accidents

A quieter morning than has been.  Just the three of us.

Evee and I hum "black sheep, black sheep...".  Iris is eating banana, then black beans and smiling as we carry out our song.

Evee sets her yogurt with granola back on the table after it sat in her lap.  As she moves to the song her hand mistakenly pushes it across the table.  It lands on the floor.

The music stops.  We look at the yogurt on the floor, the chair, the table.  I have a bowl and spoon in my own hand.  I pause, set it on the table.  I see the uncertainty in Evee's eyes. 

And I laugh.  There is yogurt all over.  We were singing.  Really?  What else is there to do?  The situation would have been quite interesting to someone looking in...the moments of silliness that not everyone sees.  Evee laughs with me.

I go get something to wipe it up with.  Evee states that no one made it spill, making sure I know that no one was at fault.  I acknowledge that, yes, it wasn't anyone's fault.

As I'm on my hands and knees moping up the mess, "accidents just happen sometimes" I say. 

"And it's okay," she responds. 

And I love that she knows that at 4 years old.

this week

...in (no more than) 48 words.  A rhythm for the weekend.  Taking time to look back on the week past.  A simple way to remember the weeks, the moments and to stay present.

I would so love to read your words!  If you take time to ponder the week and write, please share them.
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Graduation, family, friends, day-trip camping, smores, fire pit, biking, heat, windows open and shut, thunderstorms, bug bites, ice cream, watermelon, longer nights, flip flops...

summer has begun.

be "alone"

Another reminder in love.

The premise is stated wonderfully by Thomas Merton...

"It is in deep solitude that I find the gentleness with which I can truly love my brothers.  The more solitary I am the more affection I have for them...Solitude and silence teach me to love my brothers for what they are, not for what they say."

Since love is a response to love within us and since love must be sincere, I think that finding a place in which love can dwell and come from is a good place to start.

This week I will find quiet moments, even if I am not even alone.  I will dwell on quieting my heart and having gentle responses.

graduation

I sit with Clint's dad and our friends.  I look up at the grandeur, the stain glass windows, the arches, the hugeness of this church.  There is beauty and significance everywhere - in the pictures, the tradition and in the ceremony of these moments.

The organ plays and the procession starts.  Cameras click.  Graduates and those in pews scan the other, looking to glimpse their significant people.

I spot Clint.  We hold eyes.  A slight smile in the midst of all that's happening...we know all that the last three years have held.  In the hard, in the beautiful and with a mass of things learned, both in and out of classrooms, we have come through. 

A ceremony.  Prayers, scriptures, acknowledgement, the honoring of all the work that has taken place.  And I feel its significance, closure starts to sink in.

Both in moments of frustrated tears and the wonder of community, I have not doubted.  This is where we were meant to come those three years ago.  I am thankful that we discerned and followed.

I am oh-so-thankful...where to begin?  All I long to remember...

Those we began with, finished with and all in between.  The wine nights, bbqs, weeks straight of hanging out every night (with more of those to come :)).  Monitor sitting, porch sitting, sitting by a fire.  India night, Australia night, Swiss night.  All the Matthew's Christmas extravaganzas.  Those who came to see our world...many from afar, all so very dear.  Going to New York City, being a train ride from my wonderful friend.  Sweet friends who we've just come close with and are hard to leave.  Babies that came, babies lost and babies still waited for...and how it has brought us together.  Book studies and groups, walks and talks of walking.  Birthday parties, grad parties, comp parties and dissertation parties.  Playground playing, rain and preschool.  People, so many beautiful people that we call friends.

And the work!  The hours of work Clint has put in.  He dedicated himself to persevere and he has done it well.  His knowledge has deepened, yes.  And I have seen those roots become growth in passion, humility and love for others and the church.  He came to continue the work of loving God with his mind...  Now to bring together the loving of God with all his (our) heart, soul and mind.

Yes, ultimately this place, this time has made us more in love with God and more in love with people.  I am thankful. 

toys and things

I go through their closet, their room, her toys and books.  What will the few things be that I keep, that we bring with us?  In a suitcase for clothes, what special books might find their place? 

Few are kept easily…books made by grandparents and a friend, a special gift here and there…  Yet, other items are hard.  What do I do with a book we really loved, but could get again somewhere down the road?  Stuffed animals that make their rounds into bed now and again?  They aren’t essentials, per se, but bring comfort none the less.  What about dress up items and toys, too small for Evee but a year away from Iris potentially playing with them? 

In the end, there will only be so much room and so much reason to bring random things. 

In all reality, I love to simplify and I’ve wanted to get rid of some extra things for at least a year now.  Certainly not everything, but still... 

It’s simply what it symbolizes.  Leaving all.  

I remembered a conversation my brother and I had 11 years ago.  We were talking about marriage and what we’d bring to it, one positive and a negative.  He said that I was willing, meaning willing to do whatever and go wherever. 

As I laid in bed last night this came to mind.  I am willing.  I consider almost any decision…even this move across the globe.  It’s the surrender to the unknown that’s difficult.  I am willing, sure, but I don’t make decisions lightly.  I ponder, question, come back around to the answer. 

Last week was difficult in some ways as we've continued the process, in more tangible ways, of moving ahead.  It's been a gracious reminder that we have discerned, we are certain, and we are set on following God’s lead.  I will not look back.  I will not doubt.  I am willing and I am surrendered. 

I remind myself that in all things, Christ.  He is my reward, my guide and my peace.  And I will keep packing. 

tears

We served together with tears in our eyes.  As children played around us, we spoke truth to each other. 

There are 3 of us, talking together.  One who lost her husband 3 years ago.  The other has just gone 2 years without steady work.  And me. 

So much hardship when I look at their lives, all the sadness that has happened to them.  I think about what I think are hardships in my own life, but know that I cannot relate to their specific stories. 

We talk about how life is hard.  One tells how she cries frequently.  I think of others who are dear to me and are suffering.  We talk about death and losing and pain.  We don’t understand.  We only see part of a whole.  Our eyes well up and we look at each other. 

But these women speak of God's faithfulness and challenge me to my core.  If them, why not I?  One says, “This is the time to be thankful.”  I look at her in amazement while the other nods her head.  This, this is the time to be thankful?

But I know it’s true.  I know what it is to live in the hands of grace and peace.  I know that hope comes from Christ love, truly nothing else.  And, if He is my reward, I will not be disappointed.

the store again (and a love reminder)

I went to the store again.  Much more unrushed this time.  

I did pass an older man again.  To give myself some credit, I thought he was stopping to pick something up on a side aisle.  He wasn’t.  I stopped, pulled back so that he could get through and told him to please go ahead and that I thought he was picking something up. 

He smiled and said it was fine.  I waited till he went ahead. 

A minute later, as I reached to grab for a gallon of milk, he made his way over to me.  He told me a joke.  It was sweet.  I laughed and we moved on.  It made me happy.  Same store, similar situation, but different approach.  I felt different in the simple process of grocery shopping.  And it was nice. 

This week’s love reminder: Love in the form of my speech (or lack there of).  

 

The reminder is to speak well of others.  Believing the best, out loud.  I recently read this post from Ann Voskamp and this one from Holley Gerth.  They both state beautifully what this week’s reminder in love is all about.  

In Holley's words, written to her friend...

“I promise I will never speak an unkind word to or about you. I will never be jealous of you. I will never compete with you. I will never abandon or betray you. I will love you. I will pray for you. I will do all I can to help you go far and wide in the Kingdom.

I will accept you as you are, always. I will be loyal to you. Before our loving God of grace, you have my words and my heart in friendship for this life and forever with Him.”

and from her post 

"Because life is hard and we all fall and we need sisters who stand in the gap for us. Because words have the capacity to hold back evil, to bring forth life, to sustain, encourage, and unite us."

Oh, to have that knowledge, that trust, within a relationship...

May I remember the power of my words.  May they be used for beauty and not harm.  May we love like this.

this week

...in (no more than) 48 words.  A rhythm for the weekend.  Taking time to look back on the week past.  A simple way to remember the weeks, the moments and to stay present.

I would so love to read your words!  If you take time to ponder the week and write, please share them.
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Coming home.  Catching up...work, home, friends.

The beginning of getting ready for "next".  Going through things, selling a bit, plans for the "in-between".

Sad moments of realizing the "leaving behind that is soon and already here.  Choosing hope and faith...even when the feelings don't match. 

love is patient

A boy calls for his mother.  She has just finished her sentence, part of a whole conversation.

He comes up close and calls her name, "mom?"

"Yes?"  She looks at him intently.  Her hands are cupped, one in the other.  She makes eye contact.  And waits.

It takes him 30 seconds, maybe more, to remember what he came in for.  30 seconds (more!) seems to be quite a commodity...a time span not usually kept in the quiet.  There are others in the room, waiting for conversation to resume.  He doesn't even quite know what he is asking.  And yet, she waits.

Something about a kite maybe.  A Popsicle.  She answers and the moments move on. 

For those moments, though, seconds really, love was exchanged.  In the eyes, in the waiting, in the listening...significance is found.  So much more than a patient mother is seen.  The eyes, the posture, they welcome...things like "you are worth waiting to be heard" and "you are not a bother to me".

And don't we all just want to be heard?  To find someone that will just be patient with us as we figure it out?  To not be pushed or rushed, but simply waited for.

Love is patient and grace is found in patient waiting. 

car rides

We drove all day.  12 hours, maybe more, in a car with two little ones.

I read, we talked.  The sun went down.  All that can take place after that are thoughts and quiet murmurs while sleeping girls ride in the back seat.

I remember car rides growing up.  One year we went from Michigan to Texas, then west...maybe Colorado and Montana and back east again.  So. much. travel.  I can only imagine how it was with 4 kids plus my brother's friend who traveled with to Texas.

I remember being in the passenger seat as my dad drove in the early hours of the morning, heading back east.  I think sometimes I prided myself for taking on that "role"...the one who quietly rode in the front, keeping my dad awake in the night hours.  Now, thinking about it, I probably slept and he was awake alone.

On shorter trips I remember falling asleep in the back of our van to my parents' quiet murmurs.  I always found something comforting about those moments, their conversations, even if I couldn't hear what was said or didn't understand them.  Now those murmurs are ours...filled with figuring out life.  And, I still find comfort.  

The dark hours can sometimes be the best.  The quiet and peace that come.  The time when its too loud to talk and you're left with your thoughts, for there is nothing else to be done. 

this week

...in (no more than) 48 words.  A rhythm for the weekend.  Taking time to look back on the week past.  A simple way to remember the weeks, the moments and to stay present.

I would so love to read your words!  If you take time to ponder the week and write, please share them.
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A trip.  Friends.  Future thinking.  

Walked a 5k with a  friend.  Iris was strapped in a carrier.  Clint and my sister ran a half marathon together (again) and I love that they are both runners.

Sweet people all over.  Taking in moments of being post grad school...delight.

going slow

I went to the store.  There was a 35 minute pocket of time to get everything done.

As I quickly looked through the aisles to find the few things on my list I ran into a woman who I slightly know.  She asked if I'd seen the royal wedding.  I hadn't.  We both commented about trying to be quick in an out of the store.  I moved on.

I walked past a man in a wheel chair.  He commented on how I seemed to be in a hurry as I moved past him to grab eggs.  I smiled and kept going.

As I headed to get my last item I saw an old neighbor.  She hadn't seen me, though, and I kept moving...to the express lane. 

And, even though, on this particular trip, I truly did need to be quick, I didn't like to be in such a hurry.  I didn't like not stopping to talk, or say hello or generally care about the people around me...at the very least to be respectful of them. 

It would have been nice to catch up with my neighbor...maybe stand in line behind her and asked how they were doing.  In the end, I didn't even stop for a simple hello.

Love is patient.  When I am rushed and in a hurry, I have no time for love. 

I am not great at waiting.  I notice this most as we try to get ready for our days, get ready for bed, or when anyone is on a different time table then me. 

So this, the first "lesson in love", is a reminder to go slow and be patient.  As I plan my days and strive to not be rushed, I think the opportunities to love will become more evident.  Actually, the simple act of being patient is love.

This week, as I go about it, I will slow down myself.  I will strive to not rush myself or others.  I will see what these moments hold for love.  I will be patient with others...whether that be on the road, at work or in my own home. 

I sit at Clint's desk.  He's out for a run. 
I think music might help get the dishes done. 
There is a dull crying.  Overly tired Iris tries to sleep. 
I pick a happy song. 
Instead of feeling motivation I slump in his chair. 
There is the crying, the dishes, the chores for this day. 
And I am tired. 

We turn a corner. 
I put on the whole soothing album. 
I put on the hot water. 
The crying has subsided. 
Evee is quietly coloring and I will do the dishes.
The tasks will most likely be accomplished.
Thankful for the quiet peace of this moment...if only for a moment. 

I sit to type up this post. 
I read the latest post from my sweet brother. 
My brother and his wife who lost their baby just over a month ago. 
Words fail me to leave a comment. 
The pain, grief, sorry, anger is not known to me. 

I remember that life is a gift.  That gift has been stolen too soon, too early for them. 
And life hurts. 
I'm sorry...the only words that always come to mind. 
And somehow I see perspective in the hurting of others, with others. 

Peace.  It does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble or hard work.  It means to be in the midst of those things and still be calm in your heart.       (unknown author)