HomeLife
How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. - Annie Dillard
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just enough
Spring. The Good. Sunshine just warm enough to make the shade feel sweet. Breezes just strong enough to float blossoms and blooms across the yard. The white floating petals just enough like the opening sequence of a romantic movie to make you sigh audibly. The temperature just moderate enough to make all clothing choices acceptable. The hope just tangible enough to gather in a large gulp and swallow slowly down. Spring. The Good Enough. She needs another name. Fall has Autumn. Spring deserves more.
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wait
I have never waited well. I am terrible at transitions. I abhor in-between. I want to be Here or There but I cannot abide Nowhere. And yet this season this season I wait. I sit still and I try not to pace but I feel my feet shuffling. I try not to fret but I feel my heart pounding. People ask me, “Are you praying? Are you talking to God?” And I say, “Yes. As I breathe in and out. As I drive and as I sit. I mean – I talk, except I’m not certain what words I’m saying.” “And what does He answer?” they ask. I shake my…
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just reminding myself
What My Life Is Not: a burden something I must endure days to get through rejected about me as the central figure a picture perfect plan in my control What My Life Is: a gift an opportunity a work of art poetry accepted rescued in God’s hands What My Children Are Not: my salvation a liability in my complete control victims hopeless What My Children Are: hopeful worth the sacrifice beautiful gifts incredible potential Jesus followers loved protected rescued
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sing about it
Sometimes I think of my life in terms of song titles. And, of course, the titles change in my mind as quickly as they change on the radio. Give me four minutes and my thoughts will probably shift. Right now I’m drifting back in rock history to Pink Floyd’s “Comfortably Numb”. Tell me your title for the last four minutes of your life.
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coming home.
So we were supposed to travel to Texas. But you know – the kids got sick and fourteen hours in the car seemed risky business – so Virginia was the consolation prize. (Never a bad place to be – that home state.) You might think while I was gone our house would rest in its silence and emptiness. But you’d be wrong. There was no resting at our house. I think our car hadn’t even crossed into the North Carolina border before a bevy of people descended upon it with brooms and dust rags and intentions and lists. It was probably in shock at the deep cleaning happening between its…
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Some Silly List
This week the kids and Oma and I have been playing the game Outburst Junior. And by “playing” I actually mean we never really keep score and we just ask one another the questions while we eat lunch or breakfast. This morning we decided to make up our own category. World’s Worst Lifesaver Flavors (We kept it simple – the flavors had to be real foods, not inedible gross things – like stinky feet.) Here’s what we came up with —– Mac and Cheese Beans Peas Pimento Cheese Carrot Spinach Chicken Tomato Hot Dog Cucumber Coney Pork ————– You know, as I type this, I recognize that this post may…
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last night. written with pen on paper.
It’s so many minutes after midnight. We are in Virginia but we were trying to be in Texas. Three children are finally asleep after a myriad of on-the-stairs comments. “I’m still hungry.” “My throat hurts.” “Can you put deodorant on my feet?” (This question did get a response and a laugh. Turns out “deodorant” meant some essential oils on his cute size 13 soles.) Two children – blonde and long – are sharing the sofa with me. One because she read a Weird Virginia travel guide earlier today that has her brain spinning with tales of “sightings” and she can’t sleep or bear to be alone. One because we are…
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a reprint. that I need.
It’s hard to write currently. Hard to make time. Hard to think straight. Hard to focus. And I find that sometimes what I’ve already written a long time ago is actually what I am still thinking now. Or what I should be thinking. I wrote this post six years ago. That’s kind of crazy. Six years ago. Otto a newborn, spitting up all over the world. Riley in high school, spitting up all over the world in her own fashion. Me doing the same as well. Four other tiny kids trying to figure out their little ways in the world, dressing up in costumes and wading in streams and letting…
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Parenting Is Difficult: A List To Prove That
These words, shouted from upstairs, “Otto just threw up in the hall. On a pirate ship.” The endless laundry Breakfast happens so early every morning Math homework Settling matters such as, “But can you force London to let me be her pretend kitty?” Tiny Lego pieces in the kitchen, floating in the sink, under the bed, wherever my foot finds to step “Is this enough food to get dessert?” “I’m hungry.” “What’s for dinner/breakfast/lunch/snack?” —————– And these are the easy problems. So, no matter what type of parent you are, maybe a guardian, step parent, or even someone that’s questioning “what is foster care?”, because you want to be a…
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Yeah guys.
I feel sick to my stomach for a large portion of every day. Hello 2015. I had plans for you. They did not look like this. Now even my children ask, “Remember the good old days?” Yeah guys. I kind of do.
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a list that was easier to write than I thought it would be…
This week I give thanks for ….. caring texts a bouquet of flowers delivered to my door heat lamps for our cold chickens and rabbit, provided for by kind friends helpful friends to install heat lamps cheesy rice and broccoli for dinner prepared by more great friends sleepovers extra heaters for these wicked cold nights a friend who answers my call and lets me rant until I’m spent nerf footballs arriving in our mailbox (who knew you could mail a football?) generosity a purely pleasurable shopping trip where I felt spoiled and loved and even kind of cute transportation providers for my children caring and thoughtful friends to watch my…
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the language
When she calls to me, I will answer her; I will be her help in trouble; I will rescue her and honor her. Psalm 91:15 This is the language I need to hear. The truth I need to tattoo on my heart. The words I need on repeat in my tired and tortured brain. I can never hear it enough. Lord, help my unbelief.
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“regular”
I feel like I might have forgotten how to write about regular life. I certainly have forgotten how to live regular life. But the funny thing about life is … normal wants to take over. You know what I mean? And while there is no normal that I prefer right now, I know my children deeply need a type of normal and I guess maybe I do too. So we’ve done some of our normal activities. Because we have to. And tonight I am going to try to write about that. Because I need to. We visit the library frequently. I mean – I have to in order to try…
