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.