A Visual 2012

turning 3

a new table

beautiful choral music

daily bread

siblings and friends

lenten art

celebrating 50 years

beauty

reminders

a sabbath place

elementary ballet 1

a favorite smell in a favorite place

great memories

smiles on hot day

conquering fears

sharing the joy of reading

a whole hand old

riding Fancy

because life's too short...to have all serious pictures

back to school

first-time potatoes in a second-time garden

joy in a pool

prayers for a city

learning a new sport

turning 8

an orchard without any apples

love 'em

the first time to write her name

mecca for a colts fan

learning to use the computer

the dentist

playing their part in the living nativity

snow!

homemade christmas gifts

Marriage in the Ordinary

I've had every intention of writing Advent related posts this month. I have some great ideas in my head and they want to get out, but they will have to wait. 

This topic instead is forefront in my mind...

A friend from college is getting divorced. 

He stated that he and his wife are "choosing to end their marriage."

Choosing to end their marriage.

I couldn't figure it out for a few days. 
What was gnawing at me about his words. 
They are, after all, commonplace enough in our culture.

But still...choosing to end their marriage?

That sounds like a one and done kind of decision when we speak like that, doesn't it? And that - well - that just seemed highly improbable to me.

Then the ton of bricks hit.

Every day with every decision, seemingly small or large, I choose to nourish my marriage or help it wither.

When I choose to be selfless, I bring life to my marriage.

When I notice the mundane gestures, I feed my marriage.

When I say thank you, and hold my tongue. 
When I remember to kiss him goodbye or goodnight. 
When I stop to look him in the eye 
or watch a Nova documentary, I am choosing to keep my marriage alive.
When I take time to fix my hair and make-up for the date I've planned for us, I nurture my marriage.

I don't wake up one day and decide to end my marriage. 
That decision is made little choice by little choice over days, weeks, months, years. 

Choosing to end a marriage is a cumulative destination from our behavior in the everyday, messy, ordinary, unglamorous, gotta-get-done days. 

I need to be reminded that everything I do matters. 
That every little action has the potential to build momentum in my marriage toward a particular direction.

What am I doing today to nourish my marriage?

One Year

One year.

The time that has passed since beginning this blog.

I did it for me.

And told about 4 people...literally.

I have linked a few comments on other blogs to this site but that's it.

It's a place that is secret yet open to anyone who might find it.

A place where I can write and process and remember.

A place I still feel unprepared to acknowledge publicly.

A place I hold close to my chest.

Is that weird?

I am unsure, but I think I like it this way.

At least for now as much as it is in my control.


One year. 

Of keeping an on-line journal (albeit sporadic at best).

Of having an outlet to express, create, speak.

To have a voice but to know it's quiet.

One year.

Coughs in Hotel Rooms

I cradled her close. 
She was exhausted, half-asleep but compromised by a persistent cough. 
Our family of 5 was sharing a single hotel room. We all needed our rest. 
So, I did what any parent would do that loves their sick child (and wants the others to stay asleep). 
I cradled her close,
lay down on her mattress, 
rubbed some menthol on her chest, 
and cuddled her close.
As she coughed and moved restlessly, I just held her closer. 
And I prayed. 
There has to be some special faith in an exhausted parent's prayer. 

And as I remember that act, I think of God. 
How He must love to cuddle us close when we are sick; 
the soul kind, the heart kind, the body kind. 
Giving what He has to offer, which is out of HIs abundance, 
as opposed to my limited "whatever-kid-medicine-I-packed" supply. 
And God, well, He never tires. 
He holds us fully aware, not half-asleep and desperate for rest.

I gave that early morning out of the best I could, which wasn't much.
God does too...He gives out of His best too. 
But it's always more than enough.

So, I'm thankful for coughs at 1am in small hotel rooms.
You just never know what might let you glimpse straight into the heart of our Father.

Where's My Rock?

I need a rock.

A rather large one.

Because I want to crawl under it.

I am just plain tired.

Tired of everybody and anybody who decides they have a right to an opinion about anything and everything all the time and it's adequate to post it, status-update it, tweet it.

Enough!



I need a rock.

Even a small one will do.

Because I just want to make my home there for a while.

A space that's mine. And quiet. 

Where noise and chatter has ceased.

Where rhetoric is just a oddly spelled word, not the buzz word.

Where respect is given because mutual respect is a given.

Where people are free to think critically without being critical.




Enough!

Stop the presses! Slow the media train! Silence the internet!

I need a rock.

Right quick.

Right now.

Because I want to crawl under it.

Sometimes

Sometimes life stinks.

And sometimes life is reveling in the fact that there is underwear to actually wash instead of diapers to change.


Sometimes life is dull.

And sometimes life is squealing kids in fairy wings and Daddy on a toy broom toting remote controls while shouting, "I am gonna change your channel".



Sometimes life is hard.

And sometimes life makes it hard not to just throw you head back and laugh from sheer joy.



Sometimes life is complicated.

And sometimes life is as clear cut as all 3 kids wanting Mommy's lap at story time.



Sometimes life can wear you thin.

And sometimes life's pleasures are as thick as peanut butter faces that kiss you goodnight.



Sometimes life is loud.

And sometimes life gets just quiet enough to really see and hear and savor the wonder-filled moments.



Sometimes life is difficult.

And sometimes life is just what it is supposed to be...stinky and dull, hard and complicated, tiring and loud and difficult...and...sweet squeals and loving husbands, unabashed joy and laps too-small, sticky kisses and reflective minutes...and easy to embrace the all of the everyday.

Written a Couple of Years Ago...

All my hurry ups and let’s get goings

All my raised voices and hasty shushes

All my blindness and deafness 

and just all-around lack of sensory processing

because

There are important things to do

Tasks to accomplish

Boxes to be checked

Sinks to be cleaned

Value to be earned?

______________________________________________________

Father, I need You!!  
I need your eyes - to see beyond myself, to see where real value lives and breathes and shows up.  
I need your heart - one that beats my pulse in rhythm to the meandering pace of Divine andante.  
I need your ears - to hear the harmonies in the chaotic melody of preschoolers.  
I need Your hands - to extend healing (both reactive in the binding of wounds and the preventive in the gentleness of loving instruction).  
I need Your words - spoken from a place of depth authority and peace, not frantic phrases clawing to maintain control.

I fear failure and yet feel that is my one abiding accomplishment.  
Missing the mark.  
Struggling on my own.  
No surrender.  No stopping.  No peace.  

How do I become something I thought I was but have discovered I am not?  How do I become?  And why adolescent questions of identity?  That time of self-seeking should be done or so it seems.

I feel like I live my life invisible - not impacting anyone of any magnitude.  I feel forgotten. 

And yet, 
my children are the ones to whom my life is most visible.
The ones who see all of me.  
The ones I fail each day.  
The ones I impact the most.  
The ones I hurry and rush, dismiss and shush.  
They deserve better.  
I deserve to be better.  
You deserve all of me flawed that I might give all of me filled.

Help me, Father!  I need You.