The (Used to Be) Annual Crocus Post

For five years, from 2010-2014, I wrote a tiny crocus-sized poem every year when I first spotted crocuses. One of the surest signs that spring is starting to at least inch its way forward, I've always found those first crocuses a beautiful bit of brightness and hope.

When the sweet girl was little, she and I would take walks and be "spring detectives" on the lookout for all sorts of clues that spring was on its way. In our urban setting, we sometimes had to hunt pretty hard (like cracks in the sidewalks!) but we always knew that sometime in February, we could head over to a house not far from us and find a patch of crocuses in their side yard. It got to be a kind of game. I would count how many I could see, and that number would make its way into the poem.

I don't know I missed counting crocuses in 2015. Last year, in 2016, I can understand completely how I missed it -- I was in intensive chemo, sleeping nearly round the clock when I wasn't in pain or feeling sick, and not getting out for walks.

This year, still battling cancer in various and different ways, and still tired, I am thankfully walking better and have at least moments of better energy. And when we had that warm spell last week, I determined to get out for a walk on one of our rare sunny days. I wasn't even thinking about the crocuses, but I did ask my husband to drive us over to the seminary (closer to our old stomping grounds) so I could walk around the area I walked for twenty years. I mostly needed to see the trees that had become such good friends during all that time.

The sweet girl decided to come, so it turned into a family stroll (that's a nice way of describing my turtle pace these days) and we were heading down a certain sidewalk enjoying the beauty of the day when suddenly it hit me.

Late February. Warm. And we were only a block or so from the crocus house.

"Crocuses!" I called out, almost involuntarily.

"Yes!" My fourteen year old said excitedly. "We've got to!"

I love that kid. And her dad. So much.

So we crossed the street and headed for the crocus bed, which we could see even from a block away was just a riot of purple. There were tons and tons of crocuses in bloom -- a bit late to play spring detectives, but I didn't care that we were late to the party. This year I really, truly needed that riotous bunch of mostly purple (a few white) flowers, with their lovely yellow eyes looking as happy as little suns.

So much life! No way I could count them! So here's this year's little poetic offering.

So many crocuses, too many to count!
An awesome, amazing, abundant amount!
Thank you, dear God, for warm winter weather
and life that blooms bright in bounteous measure.

(EMP, 3-2-17)

If you want to see the other five crocus poems from earlier years, just click the "crocus" tag at the bottom of the post, and it will direct you to the older postings.

Blessings as the Lenten season gets underway! 

Lead, Kindly Light (Birthday of John Henry Newman)

It's the anniversary of the birthday of John Henry Newman, and I found myself thinking again of the first stanza of his poem/hymn:

"LEAD, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom
Lead Thou me on!
The night is dark, and I am far from home—
Lead Thou me on!
Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see
The distant scene—one step enough for me."

And then I read the next couple of lines, and got zinged with their truthfulness:

"I was not ever thus, nor pray'd that Thou
Shouldst lead me on.
I loved to choose and see my path, but now
Lead Thou me on!"

Wow. "I loved to choose and see my path." Yes, I think most of us do. But sometimes the path isn't entirely clear, is it? And yet we're still called to follow, trusting God with each single step -- "I do not ask to see/The distant scene -- one step enough for me."

This all feels especially pertinent on the heels of yesterday's appointment, where one of the best things dear Dr. P said to me, as he squeezed my hand, was "hang in there...and take it one step at a time." I love my medical team. They were with me yesterday during laughter, tears, and questions. And oh, there were so many questions.

For now, I am off the chemo trial, disqualified because of the new lesions in my brain. But Dr. P is making a persuasive case to try to get me back on, once I get through the radiation and Lord willing, the tumors will be gone. And if not, he has a back up plan -- is already applying for another med. It amazes me how many steps he stays ahead of me, even when my mind is whirring and whirling with thoughts and questions and I am thinking through things with my dear husband and sisters and others as I try to edge my way tentatively forward.

Lead, Kindly Light....lead Dr. P and J and D and Dr. A and Dr B (no kidding!) and my entire medical team. Lead, Kindly Light...lead pastors, mentors, teachers, intercessors, friends, as they pray and help me so much. Lead, Kindly Light...lead me, as I step into the unknown and feel unsure of what direction to go or how. One step enough for me. "Step by step you'll lead me...and I will follow you all of my days." 

Just Keep Swimmin'....

I found this painting on Facebook yesterday (unfortunately forgot which page, and forgot to note the artist...I will have to go hunting). I think it's a beautiful image, which is part of why I'm sharing it. The other reason is that I'm using it this week as a prayer focus, to pray for my sister Martha, who is also keeping this image in mind as she prays for me.

I found the image not long after she told me she kept having an image in her mind of the two of us swimming toward our goals this week...which is funny, because neither of us really can swim!

M has a few very busy days: her annual board meeting, and a national convening for her organization. She has put a ton of work into prepping for both.

Me? We are completing our move on Saturday -- for real, we've hired movers -- and I start my clinical trial on Monday. And I don't really feel ready for either. And I'm exhausted. And struggling with some sadness and discouragement.

So "just keep swimmin'" feels appropriate somehow. I keep thinking of the buoyancy of water and feeling thankful for the ways in which God's love upholds us every day.

One gift today? It rained. Besides our wonderful sky light, one of the things I will miss most about the apartment we are leaving (the one we have been in for fifteen years) is the wide open view I have from my bedroom window. It's a view of a parking lot, where I love to watch the rain gather in puddles and shine in street lights, and a view of a tree lined street...with a number of trees that I have long called my sycamores. Although I am thankful that we are moving to a place with a tiny backyard, I will still miss this wide open view. The new "view" from my bedroom window is of a restaurant that sells chicken and has several neon beer signs in their windows. No trees from any windows but the sweet girl's room.

So I kept my blinds open all day, while I packed and sorted and spent a lot of time on the phone setting up things taking place next week (beginning of my clinical trial, internet wiring for the new house) and I kept an eye on my trees. I thanked God for the sanctuary that this room and that view have been for me, especially this year when I've had to spend a lot of time in bed.

It was a hard day in other ways I don't feel like going into. It's probably enough to say that I feel old and tired and broken tonight, but I just keep remembering I'm loved. And I just keep swimmin'.

What Will You Create in 2016?

Happy 2016!

We all slept in (my dear husband too) and it felt so good to start the year with rest.

After having my morning quiet time, chatting with my dear D, and checking in on Facebook, I went over to my emails and discovered a new year greeting from a local craft store. "What will you create in 2016?" was the catchy subject line, and I've found myself pondering the question from a much wider point of view than the craft store folks might have intended!

What will I create in 2016? For starters, I'd like to create a more peaceful, more loving, more creative home. Our family struggled with lots of stresses this past year, some of them small but nonetheless trying and some of them quite large, and while we handled some of them with real grace, there were so many days I know I felt like I just gave in to frustration, worry, weariness. This year I want to stay more centered on Jesus. I want to worry less and laugh more. I want to keep my voice gentler and my touch kinder.

I want to create space inside myself to be more attentive, more loving, more focused on what matters. I want to let the little stuff stay little and the big stuff help me grow. I want to be more grateful.

I want to remember the shortness and sweetness of life. I want to honor my mom's legacy by trying to engage more people in real conversation (where I listen to their stories). The listening part comes naturally to me, but the engaging part doesn't. (Deep down, I am still the shy girl that my mother worried about when I was in elementary school and all the other kids rushed forward to get candy and I hung back and waited and hoped someone would bring candy to me.) I will always be introverted...that's just who I am...but I want to make more of an effort to be fully present to whomever God brings across my path.

I want to read and read and think and think and write and write and write and write and write some more. I want to keep pushing to know more, understand more, love more as I create stories and poems as well as write the things I need to write in my writing projects and jobs.

I want to create a learning environment where S can thrive again and re-find some of her learning joy. We've been limping along for too long in this past hard year. 

I want to draw and paint and color and collage. I know I am not the best visual artist, but I find all those things so relaxing and life-giving. I never seem to have time to do those kinds of things while we're busy trying to stay afloat, but I want to try to make more room.

Speaking of making more room, I want to keep de-cluttering.

And I plan to keep blogging. I am pretty sure that hardly anyone is reading this blog anymore (it never had a huge following, and I've written so sporadically in recent years that the few folks who read it regularly probably seldom remember to check it) but in some ways, that's freeing. I want to journal more of my thoughts about what I'm reading, writing, listening to, and learning from.

2015 held much in it that I didn't expect, including some things I wasn't sure I would weather. But here I stand with a grateful heart. So thankful for the turning of a page and the start of a new year!

Sing All Ye Citizens of Heaven Above!

My last post was written a week ago, but it feels so much longer. In that time, we've finished the Advent season and moved into Christmas. And my mother has entered into glory.

At 83, my precious, wonderful mother was feeling better than she had in a long, long time. We loved our visit with her on Thanksgiving. She was telling stories....lots of them. In fact, I wrote in my journal at the time that she seemed to be putting together the pieces of her life like a jigsaw puzzle. She lingered long over stories about her childhood, youth, and adulthood, especially about her journey of faith. She and I cooked Thanksgiving dinner together. She loved watching Sarah do her Irish dancing on the backyard patio. I remember her hearing the neighbors on the other side of the fence and hurrying over to chat with them (chatting with neighbors being something she loved doing more than almost anything!). She'd only recovered from hip surgery a few months before, but she was scrambling up on tiptoes and pulling herself up so she could call over the fence.

I had no idea that less than a month later, she would be gone from this earth and in the presence of Jesus.

The sudden and unexpected heart attack she had on Sunday was all the more unexpected because of how well she'd been feeling. She had no history of heart disease. She took incredibly good care of herself (and my dad took wonderful care of her during her hip recovery and her bout of cellulitis). She always believed a merry heart was the best medicine. Her doctors often told her how strong she was constitutionally. Her own mother lived to be 92; her maternal grandfather lived to be 100. I truly thought she had lots of time left.

But the Lord called her home this Christmas, and when the Lord calls, you answer. My mother answered with peace. She was one of the most active people I know, and yet when the time came, God gave her the serenity to simply surrender into his arms with assurance and peace. She taught me so much in her life, and even in her death, she continues to teach me.

I have so many stories I could tell about the grace filled moments of the past few days. Maybe I will soon. But on this day, Christmas day, I am simply rejoicing that Mama is home with Jesus....and simply missing her so much I ache all over.

The Middle Years

Lately I've been realizing that some of the challenges (joys, tensions, giggles) at our house consist in the fact that we're all in our "middle years."

The sweet girl (aka Jedi Teen) is in the "middle years" between childhood and adulthood -- never an easy road to travel.

Her dad and I are in our middle years, period. Which turns out aren't the easiest road to travel either, bringing with them new aches and pains, different kinds of questions about our lives and what we've done/still want to do with them, and other issues we hadn't thought about very much before they got here, like the challenges of watching and accompanying our parents as they age.

Now don't get me wrong: both sets of middle years have their blessings and compensations. The sweet girl would likely tell you she enjoys newfound freedoms and enthusiasms, and in some ways, that's true for us in our middle years too.

But sometimes the different kinds of middle years collide head on, and then the fireworks can fly! Sometimes it makes me laugh.

I know that part of the challenge for me is that I am slow to keep up with changes of any sort these days, and my daughter is just full of them -- she is a walking, talking, laughing, long-legged dancing, eye-rolling, hollering, crying, giggling ball of change most days. This slow middle-years mama (who feels like it was just yesterday she was teaching this adolescent dynamo-who-is-taller-than-she-is how to tie her shoes) sometimes just stands there in awe while she watches that dynamo practice her slip jig for Irish dance class.

I suspect, though I don't know, that parents of more than one child get to ease into all this change a little more gradually. Because there is some space between children, they get to keep experiencing one stage of life with one child while another leaps ahead into the next. I've seen this with friends who have kids at multi-ages and stages, and sometimes I am a little wistful about it. Maybe I would deal better with the swift progressions of adolescence if I was still cutting crusts off sandwiches and reading Eric Carle to an up-and-coming sibling. But that's not our experience nor our particular blessing (though I am grateful I still get the chance to spend time and work with younger kids in other venues, even if not here at home).

Still, I think I need to remind myself from time to time to relax and laugh a little more about the middle years. These too shall pass. And probably far too swiftly.

Holy Week and Easter

"He became naked so that we might be clothed; he who was truly fit to rule took all our dishonesty and unfitness to rule upon himself; he rose from the utter dependence of death with an imperishable body, "more fully clothed," so that we, too,clothed in his merciful robe, might be fully knowing and fully known in love's full embrace.  Like God.  As we were meant to be."
                                       ~Andy Crouch, Playing God: Redeeming the Gift of Power

A blessed end of Holy Week, and a joyous Easter!

The World is Almost Too Beautiful

The world is almost too beautiful. The variegated petals of a tulip, the wisps of straw fluttering from the open door of the white birdhouse where sparrows are once again busy setting up housekeeping, the way the light looks on a late March afternoon when you’re not yet used to the lingering softness of the light. It is almost too beautiful, almost, until you remember, your throat aching with mingled joy and sorrow, the echoing beauties of redemption, forgiveness, release, and deep, deep peace. And you recall the beauty of the Author of it all, beauty past recounting, rhyme or reason, beauty that can only make you stutter in worship and fall down in praise. 

(Just a little prose poem on this Palm Sunday.) 

Responding to God in the New Year

I pray that anyone reading this is having a blessed new year's day, a refreshing time to look back with gratitude on the past year (even if it was a difficult one) and to reflect on hopes and goals for the new year. Here we are at 2013!

 When I began this blog in 2006, almost exactly seven years ago, I had no idea that I would still be posting my thoughts here this far down the road. Although I do not always post as often as I used to, it's still a place where I enjoy coming to share creativity, struggles, prayers, inspiration, and of course lots and lots of good book recommendations.

One thing I hope to do this year is both a writing/creativity goal and a spiritual one (so often those two come bundled together). I have been thinking about the many things that often "come my way" in the course of each day, be it a lovely photograph on Facebook, something I've read online, in a book, or in the Scriptures, or just the ordinary thoughtful moments of family life and friendship. I'm hoping to maintain the discipline of writing something small each day, usually a poem or prayer, in response to whatever God opens my eyes to that particular day...whatever it may be. I hope to share bits of that "day book" here in the coming year.

I also plan to compile my list of favorite books from 2012 sometime this month, once I get past the sinus infection I'm recovering from -- and get back into some semblance of school and work routine following the holidays.

Whatever your goals and hopes are for the coming year, I pray that your eyes will be opened more and more to the riches of God's grace, goodness and mercy. The year is still like a day of new fallen snow...hardly any tracks yet, and so many beautiful miles to go.

What I Am Doing With All The Time I'm Not Blogging

I realized this evening that I am on track to complete my leanest blogging year ever in the (almost) seven years I've been blogging. Which made me wonder...what precisely am I doing these days with all the time I'm not blogging? Just in case you were curious, here are a few things on that list.

1) Grading papers. Tidal wave two hit Friday. As a mere teaching assistant this year, rather than a full-fledged adjunct, I somehow had the mistaken impression that grading would take up less of my time. But when paper deadlines hit for two seminary classes at roughly the same time, the avalanche is still an avalanche, even if I am only grading for mechanics and reading accountability rather than deeper content. Reading a paper and assessing it thoughtfully still takes time...maybe not as much time as it used to, but still plenty of it. So does answering student questions and managing record keeping. All of this, of course, on the everlastingly wonky computer (that I am nonetheless grateful for).

2) Moon watching. The sweet girl has always loved the moon, and lately her love for it seems to have grown. We're doing a lot of moon watching -- and star watching -- in the evenings. And reading/thinking about/talking about moon phases and constellations.

3) Battling a falling apart clothes dryer, whom I have now named Barky. Which, as my husband points out, is better than Sparky.

4) Cooking, cleaning, lesson planning. The usual suspects.

5) Teaching preschoolers about Isaiah the prophet.

6) Planning an out of town trip without credit.

7) Ghost-writing articles (mostly travel ones). Lots and lots and lots of ghostwriting this month.

8) Refining my ghostwriting travel voice by watching Rick Steves travel videos from the library.

9) Reading a lot of Madeleine L'Engle out loud. Because the sweet girl has fallen -- and fallen hard -- for this favorite author of my heart.

10) Watching Mary Tyler Moore season 1 episodes with my dear husband. Not that we have any time, but we're sneaking them in really, really late at night when we're both giggly with exhaustion. And I am discovering that MTM is great television comfort food. I can't tell you how nostalgic and warm it makes me feel. And oh, yeah...a little bit old too (the first season aired when I was 2).

11) Feeling utterly grateful for Christian community. We have been literally held up and sustained in this incredibly lean season by provision we could not possibly have imagined. God's people responding to our needs and to God's promptings and putting feet and hands and hearts to work to help us. My exhaustion level may still be there, but you know, my heart is so much lighter than it was a few weeks ago. Knowing this level of care from so many people makes all sorts of things feel possible in an impossible season.

12) Working on writing chapter 5 of The Four Princesses. Yes!! So excited to get back to this beloved project.

13) Mentally writing book (and movie and music) reviews, and missing Epinions like crazy.

14) Finishing up our afterschool arts program for the fall.

15) Listening to lots of Elgar. And Handel. And Bach.

16) Sneaking in the writing of an occasional poem. (See previous post.)

17) Praying my way through helping the sweet girl with some new levels of intensity and anxiety.

18) Praying WITH the sweet girl, a lot. And reading Isaiah with her. It's been an Isaiah kind of month.

19) Drawing. A little. Mostly in the tired cracks and crevices when I am most worn out but needing a creative boost that involves physically holding a pen/pencil and not sitting at the keyboard.

20) Contemplating where this year has gone. Do you realize Advent starts December 2?

A Bad Night and a Very Good Day (or Learning to Dance in the Rain)

Late Saturday night...so late that it was actually the wee small hours of Sunday (around 1:00 a.m.)...I was experiencing what I call a bad night. These happen to me occasionally. I'm tired but too wound up to sleep and can't seem to turn off my thoughts. My thoughts lead me in anxious directions, and before you know it, I'm on the border of a full-blown anxiety attack.

This doesn't happen to me often, for which I'm very thankful, but when it does, it almost always seems to happen in those dark, wee smalls when no one else in the house is awake. It's often our family's difficult financial situation that triggers the anxiety, though strangely enough there's not usually an obvious "trigger" that trips me into the anxious zone. I have been through a lot of the biggies in recent months -- things I once thought I'd never survive well, like negotiating our debt and losing my health insurance. They were big things with ongoing challenging repercussions, and yet I seemed to weather them with at least little bits of grace.

No, weirdly, it's the little things that often trip me up. A few years ago, when we first began to realize we were in the crunch for the long haul, we started tightening our belts in all sorts of ways. I remember thinking through everything we could possibly give up that would help, and one of the conclusions I reached is that I should not buy body wash anymore. Now that probably seems silly, but body wash (the scented, silky kind you use in the shower) used to be something I really enjoyed using. But it had gotten expensive, often costing several dollars a bottle, and I knew we couldn't spend that kind of money for something so non-essential, so I stopped buying it and never looked back. I remember having a mild fit of panic, not so much over the loss, but over the realization that there were only so many "small things" left like that we could cut out -- and it still wasn't going to make a huge difference.

This time around, it was another silly little thing. On Friday night we had run some errands in a nearby town, buying some groceries and back to school supplies. Cash flow was tight and I found myself trying hard to make wise decisions about what to buy without processing anything out loud (which doesn't make for a fun family outing...and the sweet girl was already having a bit of an intense evening...W-Mart brings it out in her). We had agreed to stop by a local theater to find out if they were playing the theatrical re-issue of Singin' in the Rain this coming Wednesday. It's to celebrate the film's 60th anniversary and comes on the eve of Gene Kelly's 100th birthday. Singin' in the Rain is my favorite film of all time; I have always longed to see it on the big screen. D. and S. both love it too. I knew we had next to nothing to cover tickets, but I had also heard there might be a matinee, so I was hopeful. (We saw the classic Wizard of Oz on the big screen last year for $1 each!)

So I asked the woman at the ticket counter if they were bringing the movie. She told me yes and confirmed they had a matinee, which made my heart beat faster. Then she informed me that because it was a special event, there were no special matinee prices. And then added somewhat apologetically, perhaps seeing the look on my face, that the price was also higher than their normal ticket because it was a special showing. She then proceeded to quote a price that I knew we couldn't pay. We just didn't have it.

Walking out of that theater without tickets I actually had tears in my eyes. In the grand scheme of things, it was not, is not, a huge deal. It's a movie, for goodness' sake. We have given up lots of nights out over the years for the sake of living simpler lives and being able to have the freedom to keep doing things we love -- like have me working from home so I can homeschool the sweet girl, and having D. work multiple part-time jobs so we can all continue to minister to kids in our little town. And in the midst of all the stuff we've given up have also been all the times we've been utterly surprised and blessed by gifts that we didn't absolutely need but were so blessed by -- a case in point being two recent nights in a hotel near Lake Erie.

So this was not me crying poor us (well, okay, maybe it was a little at first). It's just that -- well, this is Singin' in the Rain. (I know I sound crazy, but stick with me.) I have loved it as long as I can remember because it has that wonderful way of affirming the joyousness of life in the midst of everything. The scene of dear Gene dancin' and singin' in the rain has, in a strange but delightful way, become an icon for me, especially during some of our leanest and most challenging years. Somehow I thought it seemed a little bit like serendipity that we'd have a chance to see it in the theater during the week we were celebrating the 15th anniversary of our move here. And instead, it ended up being just one more thing to let go of.

So there I was, in the wee small hours, feeling anxious because I couldn't buy movie tickets (it felt like the body wash all over again) and then feeling stupid and guilty to be sad about something so trivial in a world filled with so much real deprivation and pain. From there, I moved into full-blown anxiety over the fact that movie tickets are the least of our worries in the coming month -- we've got bills I don't know how we're going to pay. Once the enemy got hold of that stick, I was really getting beaten up. I ended up having to get up for a while, going to the bathroom to have a good cry (and reading time and prayer time). A very bad night before I surrendered it all to the Lord and headed back to bed for a few hours of sleep.

And then...oh joy...yesterday was a good day, and today was even better. Outwardly nothing has changed. My appliances are struggling (and at least one threatening to quit); we're having car problems; D broke another tooth; we still have bills we can't pay including one in a few weeks we truly can't default on. But you know what? Surrendering everything to the Lord, from tears over small hurts and losses to big anxiety over very real lack of resources, makes a difference. Because when things look ridiculously hard and lean, asking God to help you choose to dance in the rain is a good way to go.

So today instead of struggling, I let go again. I chose to remember the wondrous deeds of the Lord. Instead of stressing over lack of work, I ghostwrote a web article even though it didn't pay much. I enjoyed lesson planning for fall and a beautiful walk in the sunshine with my daughter. I overjoyed to her joy and enthusiasm over writing a letter to the new child we are sponsoring through Compassion, a girl in Haiti just her age (thank you, Compassion, for helping us make this connection)! I loved the beautiful picture she drew and painted to enclose in the letter. I slowed down and took the time to cook with the sweet girl -- we roasted fresh beets picked from our own little community garden plot and made homemade scalloped potatoes. And after dinner, all three of us sat on a blanket on the floor and celebrated our 15 years in this town with a miniature tea party complete with peppermint tea, tiny bread and butter slices, and tootsie rolls that rained down yesterday from a birthday pinata of a friend. Drinking tea made us feel veddy, veddy British (and veddy, veddy silly) so we popped in a travel video we'd gotten from the library and spent half an hour oohing and ahhing over the south of England. ("I have to live there," my ten year old said passionately, precisely echoing the way I've often felt. It must be genetic.)

So very thankful for this very good day.

A Different Kind of Week

I'm feeling wonderfully thankful today in the midst of a very tired week. Not at all the sort of week I was expecting...but sometimes God stops us in our tracks, gently moves aside our well-laid plans, and says, "here, have THIS kind of week instead."

I thought I would be at VBS every evening this week, but thus far I've not made it once. (And they have made it just fine without me. It's going well.) That's because over the weekend I came down with terrible congestion and a croupy cough, a couple of weeks behind the sweet girl (who is finally getting over it). My summer cold immediately seemed to take a dive into sinus infection territory. Awful pain and pressure behind my eyes and in my right ear. My whole face has been aching, especially on the right side, and it's seemed to move into all sorts of muscles so that my neck and shoulder hurt too. And I just keep coughing...

But wait! you cry. This was supposed to be a thankful post! Why yes, it is.

I'm thankful that I've actually had to slow down in the midst of a summer that's had so little time to slow down. The sweet girl and I spent Monday cutting out dozens of small pieces of craft foam for a VBS project (while I coughed and coughed and coughed...) and we've watched tons of the Olympics on our t.v. without cable that hardly *ever* gets decent reception but for some reason this time around is. Most of the time. Except when we have to stand in one spot to the left of the set when it decides to get the hiccups. And sometimes stand on one leg like storks or wiggle our bodies in a strange kind of olympic dance. But even that's been sort of fun.

It's been fun letting my ten year old girl stay up extra late a couple of nights so we can watch gymnastics. We've turned off all the lights except for the television and cuddled on the couch in our pajamas (while coughing, coughing, coughing...) and she has been enthralled by the women's gymnastics team. An unabashed Gabby Douglas fan (a picture of Gabby went up in her room today, and she spent part of the afternoon practicing tumbling on makeshift mats) and yet I've been happy to see that her love of the sport is not limited by her love of country. She has been highly impressed with the Russian gymnasts (that's my post-Cold War era kid!) and she worries about the morale of anyone who falls off beam or takes a big hop on a landing. I've loved hearing her chatter knowledgeably about routines and apparatuses, using the jargon she's picked up from commentators.

Then there's been the fact that, try as I might to get writing, cleaning, and lesson-planning work done this week, all the stuff I'm a month behind on, sometimes when you're feeling this miserable, you've just gotta read. Not that I need an excuse to read, but it's nice to be able to cushion your aching head and give in. I've been winging my way through Deborah Crombie's Kincaid/James series since spring, and I do mean winging. I finished the 9th book in the series this past week (Now May You Weep, another great one) and can't wait to pick up the 10th. Gemma is my favorite character, but I'm a little in love with Duncan (which makes sense, since Gemma is too). I've also been enjoying more P.D. James, both by book and video. I just finished the third Adam Dalgliesh book Unnatural Causes, and D. and I have been very slowly wending our way, mostly on weekends, through the mid 1980s mini-series adaptation of Cover Her Face based on the first Dalgliesh book.

And finally, are you ready for this? We're getting a vacation this month! Two nights/three days!  Courtesy of several members of my extended family who know we are tired (and broke) and who want to bless us. I  am so utterly grateful. Time to breathe, to enjoy some fresh air and green, to see some dear friends. I am very much looking forward to it.

There are other things that have blessed this week...Ted Kooser poetry, Simone Dinnerstein playing Bach on piano (on my CD player), a note from a dear friend who sent two lovely little keepsakes to the sweet girl from a recent trip to Italy. A sister visiting Martha's Vineyard, the island where D. and I honeymooned 20+ years ago in what feels like a fairy-tale from another age (and the chance to look at the pictures from that magical week...were we really ever that young?)! An early reader's copy of an Eerdman's picture book for me to review. Not having to cook much all week because everyone else is eating at VBS and I don't much care what I eat when I'm sick. Even some of the harder things -- a challenging and unexpected email conversation with a friend, a time or two when I've been tired enough to lose my patience with the sweet girl's worry struggles -- well, even in the harder things, I am feeling blessed to know I am growing and learning and God is still shaping me.

So...not the kind of week I was expecting at all. But the kind of week God wanted to give me. The kind I've been glad to receive.

Random (But Mostly Sweet Girl) Musings in the Early Evening

D. and the sweet girl are at our church's weekly children's outreach. I'm usually there too, but this evening I stayed home to finish recording my grades and comments for the seminary courses I assisted in this semester (due tomorrow) and to nurse a bad headache.

I've still got a little bit of work to go, but the bulk of it is DONE. I can't tell you how good that feels. This teaching semester has been oddly difficult for me, especially given the fact that I wasn't actually fully teaching a course (for the first time in several years) just assisting in three. It's been a good experience, but it's also felt like a bit of a slog, and I'm too tired right now to figure out why. (And maybe that's part of the answer right there: my sem work, like everything else, has to be put into the context of overall tiredness and stress.)

Before I dive into the last bits that need doing, I thought I'd take a deep breath and enjoy a few minutes to just journal in the quiet of the early evening. It's rare that I have this kind of quiet time and space to myself before late night.

So here goes, a few random musings from a tired but grateful heart.

* I think I'm raising a writer. The sweet girl began keeping a story notebook earlier this year, and lately she's gotten it back out so she can write more stories. That might be a good clue in and of itself, but the real clue that she's got a writer's heart came for me yesterday when she suddenly announced that there was *one certain pen* she had to find so she could write in her story notebook. I mean, the pen she had was all right, she explained quite earnestly, but it was not the pen she really likes to use when she writes stories. "I need my flowy pen," she told me. "The one that writes all smooth and flowy." Speaking as someone who finds all story-writing easier with a fine tipped pen, I can fully empathize. And hallelujah, we found the flowy pen.

* There's a sign taped to our front window. It's addressed to the birds. It's the sweet girl's promise to feed them "breakfast, lunch, and dinner" -- weather permitting. She's stuck to her promise too, and the sparrows, wrens, and starlings have begun to get quite excited when they see her coming. She keeps putting bird seed in her pockets. I foresee plenty of bird seed in our washer/dryer, though I have asked her to remember to check her pockets before she puts her clothes in the hamper.

* We still love picture books. It's been a hard few months for the sweet girl, who has moved into what I guess you'd call "tween territory" with great vigor. Her intensities, her brightness, her energy...blessings...her intensities, her anxieties, her struggles to control her temper...some challenges. All of it comes together in a big package that, some days, feels like more than any of us can unwrap. (So thankful God holds her heart. Mine too.) In the midst of all this, there are moments when she so longs to be "big" and "independent" and moments when she just wants to curl up on my lap again, like she's four. It reminds me of my golden retriever, years ago, when he was just moving out of his puppy stage but would still try to curl up on my lap. Given the sweet girl's huge growth spurt this year, that last is getting more difficult ~ she has really long legs! But one thing we've both realized is how much we miss reading picture books together, so lately we've been making time to do that again. It's been wonderful. I need to get some reviews out, especially of the delightful Emma Dilemma.

* We're loving drawing. One of the best parts of loving picture books is that we no longer just read them together, we pore over them together. And then on Fridays, we draw from them together. This has yielded some surprising creative results for us both in the past few months, which I hope to post about again.

Hmmm...this has turned into very much a parenting/family/homeschooling sort of post, though I had thought I would range further afield on all sorts of topics. I guess my brain just spiraled in one direction. And now I really do need to get back to work. More musings soon!

"And Then God Showed Up..."

There are certain catch-phrases bandied about by Christians that drive my theological sensibilities a bit batty. "And then God showed up..." has always been near the top of the list.

I think it drives me crazy because it assumes that there are times when God is not around. I'm not trying to deny, of course, that we all go through seasons of time when we can feel as though God is absent. Sometimes this may be due to our own sin or apathy ("prone to wander, Lord, I feel it...") Sometimes we may be going through a time when the Lord may choose, in his gentle wisdom, to not speak too loudly -- (unlike the "megaphone" times in our lives) -- perhaps because he wants us to seek him more deeply.

Whatever the reasons may be, there are plenty of wilderness times in our lives when we may feel as though the Lord is not very active or present in our lives. Small wonder then that we marvel when we do suddenly sense his presence, when we find ourselves saying "and then God showed up!" like it's a shock.

As I said, what's bothered me most about the phrase is that, lurking in the background, there's this element of surprise. As though God took a walk somewhere, wandered off, got lost, then happened to make it back. A little late, but hey, at least he bothered to show up. Maybe I'm being over-sensitive, but there's something that smacks a little bit here of the vision of the deist watchmaker God, who sets things in motion and then leaves us all to muddle on as best as we can. But he pops in from time to time, just to check on how things are going.

But lately I've been gaining more empathy for the statement, or at least seeing it in a new light. Maybe because I've been floundering a bit in the wilderness lately, and the times when...oh, okay, I'll say it...the times when God has showed up, clearly and obviously, have provided such deep and meaningful refreshment for my weary heart and soul.

Still, I don't want to forget the pervasiveness of God's presence. He is there, in the hard times as well as the beautiful, in the dry times as well as the garden blooming wild with fruit times. He is there. We may forget it. We may not always sense it. We may forget to walk in the truth of it. But he is there. He is the one who sustains us, every breath, every moment, every mercifully new morning. He is there.

So here's what I think: when we say "And then God showed up..." this is what we just might mean:

We mean to say, like Jacob, "God was here, in this place (this very ordinary, hard-ground, rock-littered place!) and I DID NOT KNOW IT!"

We mean to say, like the Israelites celebrating on the other side of the Red Sea, "there was no hope, there was no way out, there was no way through, and then the most amazing thing happened...God showed up! He rescued us from death!"

We mean to say, from the depths of our heart, "I was once far off, but now I have been brought near, and amazing grace, God is here!"

We mean to say, like Jack Lewis, "God walks everywhere incognito. And the real challenge for us is to come awake."

So maybe we mean to say...today, this moment, this now, I have come awake. The Prince of Peace has bestowed the kiss of life. I have come alive to the presence of God (always here, always sustaining) in ways that have surprised and stunned me. That have made me realize anew that hallelujah, HE IS HERE.

Multitude of Thanks on This Monday

It's been a while since I've done a "multitude Monday" posting. But I am feeling so deeply thankful for so many blessings today!

51) The sweet girl turned 8 yesterday. 8! Where did the time go? She's been wanting us to revisit stories of her babyhood -- she particularly loves to hear about the day before her birth and the story of her actual birth. For her, it all seems like ancient history, but to me it still feels about as fresh as last week. I am so thankful for our precious daughter: her creativity, her humor, her love, and all the ways God is growing good things in her heart.

52) A fun celebration of her birthday. We had a good time yesterday with a number of S' friends at the seminary family center. This year's theme (the sweet girl loves themes!) was "under the sea" and the kids had fun playing "pin the tail on the whale." S. and her Dad created the game together, and the whale was colorful and creative! Hugs, well-wishes, cards, and gifts from other friends and family members also blessed her day and our's.

53) The amazingly good and encouraging news about my dad's health. Those of you who have been following my posts in recent weeks know how sick he has been, and how this turn in his health was quite sudden. Because of the weakness of his heart (congestive heart failure) he's been unable to have some procedures done to clear up a heart blockage. But thanks be to God, he is definitely improving. The doctors are encouraged: his ejection fraction has improved to 37 (from a low of between 10-20 at the hospital just several weeks ago). That means they will be able to go ahead, Lord willing, and do some of the procedures -- like a new kind of pacemaker and maybe even stents -- that just a few weeks ago they were saying were impossible. Our whole family is feeling profoundly grateful for this news!

54) The return of our computer, with most of our data intact. After our big computer crash a couple of weeks ago, we thought we'd lost everything for good. But a friend who is also a computer expert was able to recover a lot of things for us. I'm still finding out what made the transition and what didn't (some files corrupted) but there's more here than I dared hope, and we're just so thankful for our friend's willingness to spend so much time and wisdom helping us out. Not only is the computer a blessing to our lives because it helps us to stay in touch with friends and family, it's a huge part of our livelihood.

55) Summertime. It's just so good to have moved into a slower rhythm. I'm grateful to be getting some time to read, write and think, as well as organize and clean. Projects that have been simmering on the back burner are finally getting moved toward the front of life's stove. Although it's really too hot to do much cooking these days -- so perhaps I should change the metaphor. But I'm feeling too almost-July-lazy to do it.

My Thankful Post

I promised my own thankful post would be forthcoming. So before we get too far into the advent season, I thought I'd reflect (as I did last year) on our thanksgiving trip and all the blessings we encountered during it.

First was simply the blessing of being able to go. Given how little we have been able to travel in recent years, that was no small thing. Being able to afford the trip and to get the time off from various jobs (D's heavy workload in two places makes this especially tricky) was a blessing all by itself. Because we work part-time and via self-employment, we've had no "paid vacation" in years. Any days off, we really feel like we have to earn, usually by finessing schedules and working more hours before and after to be able to do it. Everything coming together the way it did was a gift.

We left later than we intended on the day we headed down to Virginia. I'm thankful we were able to simply relax about that and not "stress" that we couldn't get there faster. In fact, we relaxed a bit more than usual, stopping several times...once at our favorite rest stop (where there are lots of trees and hills and a place for the sweet girl to run around). It was heading toward twilight by the time we got there, and I got a lovely shot of the moon right on the cusp of evening, looking so beautiful with the darkening sky and the bare almost-winter branches next to it.



Our time in Virginia was precious. I missed all of my siblings something fierce this year, but it was also wonderful for the sweet girl to get so much grandparent time. At my parents' (where we spent thanksgiving day - Saturday morning) she had a lot of fun making pumpkin bread with Grandma Eva. Watching them measure the spices and stir up the batter was a delight and brought back some wonderful kitchen memories with my Mom. And speaking of the kitchen, my parents have been re-doing their kitchen, completely on their own. I wanted to post a photo, but for some reason blogger is not allowing me a second one in this post. Hmm.

Anyway, the leaves in Richmond were beautiful, colorful and around their peak. My Dad apologized because a strong wind the day before had brought down scads of yellow maple leaves all over the yard, but we loved it. I especially loved it because those are "my maples" -- the trees I spent hours of my childhood climbing.

Thanksgiving dinner was delicious, with Mom out-doing herself as usual. She was scandalized by my Dad's suggestion that since there were so few of us this year (just the five of us) that she not make sweet potatoes, since mashed potatoes would suffice. I'm relieved she didn't give into the one-potato pressure. :-) I love Mom's sweet potato casserole made with pineapple!

The sweet girl ate fairly well at thanksgiving dinner. When it was all over, we asked her what her favorite food had been. "The pickles," she said promptly. A girl after my own heart.

Time at Grandma Ona's from Saturday-Monday morning was also good. We had planned to spend as much as Sunday as we could, following church, in Washington D.C., so that necessitated our finding a slightly earlier church service. We visited the Falls Church for the first time ever and were blessed to hear Bishop Martyn Minns preach and celebrate. It's a huge building (and we were in only one of their sancutaries, the "main" one, not the "historic" one) and we arrived about four minutes late. The friendly ushers put us on the second row which had me in a slight tizzy for the first half hour, as I waited for the sweet girl to squirm, fuss or otherwise disobey in front of this large and strange congregation. I knew she wasn't feeling entirely comfortable (nor was I) given how much larger and "grander" looking the place was than our tiny basement sanctuary. But I think the beauty of the place and the majesty of the organ overwhelmed her into almost-silence. It was also her first time using a kneeler to pray during a church service, and I was amazed at how quickly she caught on (with no coaching from either of us). When we got back from the communion rail, she actually dropped to her knees again without any prompting (and most people in the congregation weren't even doing that). I felt very tender watching that little curved back and bowed head.

We had perfect fall weather, crisp, clear and colorful, for our day-long trek into D.C. It was S' first trip on the Metro and she loved it, holding her doll Jane up to the window so she could look out. D's Aunt Cindy came with us and was a trooper to traipse all over creation and back (well okay, just to the Lincoln Monument and back, but it was a LOT of walking). Besides the Lincoln, we spent time at the WWII Memorial (a first for us, and very meaningful since Cindy's Dad/Dana's Granddad fought with Patton). We also got time at the Museum of Natural History and the National Gallery.

We love the National Gallery. Once upon a time, when we lived closer to D.C. and visited it more often, we knew it well. We were slightly disoriented this time both because it had been so long since we'd been there, and because they are undergoing some major renovations and had moved part of the collection. Thankfully, we found D's favorite Thomas Cole paintings! I loved watching him hold S. right up to each one and talk to her about the pictures as they progressed through all four. And I loved the way his face lit up when her own little face, piqued with interest, lit up too, and she asked "Can we go back and look at the first one?"

S. loved spending time with Grandma Ona, of course. The two of them did a little dancing and a lot of chatting and hugging. I think S. is already counting the days till Christmas when we hope, Lord willing, to be going back.

This feels like a whirlwind version, but at least it gives you a glimpse of all we had to be thankful for. Safe travels, beautiful weather, loving times with parents/grandparents. Another thanksgiving I will treasure long in my memory!

Leaves For This Year's Thankful Tree

My extended family has a several year tradition of creating a "thankful tree" each thanksgiving. Colored paper leaves are distributed during the day and everyone writes on at least one leaf (sometimes several) to share what they're thankful for. Then we tape the leaves to a tree picture, usually drawn or painted by one of the many artistic people in the family.

We did it again this year, although our gathering was small...just my parents and the three of us. We still managed to cover the tree with bright paper leaves full of thankfulness.

Last year I instituted the tradition here at home as well, and gave the sweet girl a chance to do her own little tree before we left on our trip. It's not only a good exercise in helping her learn to "count her blessings" but gets her primed to share at the wider family gathering.

This year we didn't actually do a tree here at home, but we did do the leaves. They've been littering the table in a lovely, bright pile, and were still scattered there when we got home from our nearly-week long travels last night.

In no particular order, just as I did last year, here's my dear daughter's list of what she's thankful for:

-Family
-Good Food
-Mommy and Daddy
-Our Home
-Fall Leaves
-Kindergarten
-Jesus Loves Me
-Our Church
-Candles
-My Grandparents
-Good Books Like The Bunnies Are Not in Their Beds; Llama Llama Red Pajama; Thanksgiving at the Tappletons and Thanksgiving Is Here
-Music
-Butterflies
-Big and Small Things
-My Dolls
-My Drums
-Warm Colorful Socks

A pretty good list, I thought! Yes, I had to do a bit of prompting to help her along, but she got the hang of it pretty quick. And she insisted on listing her current favorite books (note the thanksgiving theme) after saying "good books."

"My Drums" made me smile...her current "drum set" is actually a handful of small, plastic bowls she has confiscated from the kitchen. She has chosen them carefully so that each drum has a slightly different tone, just like the real drum set at church. She uses various things as drumsticks -- the old plastic drumstick from her xylophone, a plastic knife from her toy kitchen set, a small metal pipe from a broken set of musical pipes. In addition to the drum set, she's also created a rather extensive percussion section for herself by making egg shakers out of different things. We had a couple of egg shakers we bought from Kindermusik when she was a baby, and then this summer at VBS she got a couple of plastic easter eggs with rice inside them. She has since made several more from old plastic easter eggs filled with all kinds of things: lentils, unpopped popcorn kernels; small bits of hard uncooked pasta. She loves the different sounds they make.

"Big and Small Things" is a nod to our morning prayers. For years now, literally, one of the morning prayers we have often prayed (almost if not quite every day) is this: "Dear Father, hear and bless thy beasts and singing birds. And guard with tenderness small things that have no words." That became an especially dear prayer to us back in the day when the sweet girl was struggling with her speech delay and quite literally had "no words" coming from her lips for many months on end. It's still a special prayer, but in the past year or so it's morphed into a regular litany she's created of "small things" and "big things" that God has made and which she's thankful for.

My own thankful list to come!

Hooray! I'm back!

I tried to think of a snazzy name for this post, but couldn't really think of anything beyond a yelp of glee. Our computer is functioning solidly again -- in fact, functioning better than it has in a while. Various people kept telling us we should simply change our browser over to Mozilla Firefox, and lo and behold, after Dana did that evening, everything that hadn't been working suddenly started working again...almost like magic. Hooray!

I will try to do some serious posting soon -- I've really missed writing here for the past few days. For now, two wonderfully fun moments with the sweet girl this afternoon/evening.

One came when we were headed to the living room, after her nap (actually slept) and snack (fresh honeydew...yum) to work on a reading lesson. We've been averaging probably three lessons a week, but with one thing and another hadn't gotten to one for a few days. S. practically danced her way over to the couch and announced with enthusiasm, "Mommy, my TOES are ready for a reading lesson!"

Then at dinner this evening she wanted seconds on bread and butter and as usual, we were working on the polite way to ask. Suddenly she said with great thoughtfulness, "How do you spell May-I-Have-A-Piece-Of-Bread-Please? It's a REALLY long word!"

Thanks to all who prayed for a solution to our computer problems (and for our patience in dealing with them). So glad to be back!