sprinkles and dreams

"It's sort of impulsive, don't you think?"

He asks me as if I need to be reminded.

And I own it.

I tell my groom that it's true. Yet, it isn't quite.

For a long while I've wanted something. Dreamed of it, in fact.

I've waited for the right time. And an okay time suddenly arrived.

Anyone who knows this side of me, knows it fits me well.

We talked. He suggested it was my gig. I could decide.

Biggish purchases shouldn't be exclusively on one set of shoulders in a two-person partnership.

I feared the weight. I feared the wrong.

As we talked and deliberated and I searched for right, I soon discovered that there isn't one.

I realized that we really are doing this deciding together. He's right next to me and we're talking, sharing, deliberating.

I ended up suggesting that we Just. Do. It.

"It's the sprinkles in our lives. The fun in our days!"

We smile a lot in our house. Laughter happens.

A purchase of any size isn't needed to bring joy or happiness. But sometimes it's okay.

What we did isn't of any incredible magnitude. And some might say we were "silly" or "irresponsible".

(For that reason I probably won't share what it was exactly that we took the plunge and bought.)

What I will say is this:

     Sometimes it's okay to seize the dream. 

And when we do, chances are it isn't impulsive.

I've a friend who has been writing a lot about this. Our hearts are linked as we consider this and what it means for us.

Sprinkles on my ice cream remind me to be like a child and choose Joy.
   
The kind where our fears don't limit us.
The kind where responsibility and rationalization and realistic don't exist.

Children don't live in the realm of practical thinking. Their thoughts are big and s t r e t c h  w  i  d  e.

This morning I was thinking about the size of God. The One who created me.

He's big. As in, He created Abraham and Sarah...and me. That same, really Big. God.

I get chills as I consider this. I can't fathom it all and it scares me a little to think about the scope of this truth.

Specific dreams are a part of my heart. 
   
Ones that don't make a bit of sense. And yet, they do.  
Ones that seem so impossible. And yet, they aren't.

*Today* might never have happened in my dreams. And yet, it did.

He's just this Big. To have me a bride. In a loving and intimate relationship with my groom.

I am in awe every day over what He's allowed in our marriage. What He's become of us.

We're not done and what we have isn't perfect.
We're incredibly fragile in our togetherness.

The miracle is how we were first a dream,
     and today we are this.

Telling him a story, my groom leans in closer to listen. I can feel his curiosity.

I *wonder*...

     if my dream-telling is weaving courage in his own heart...
     ...what it means...
          ...what will become of us and this dream that is so much bigger than this purchase...

I *wonder* if maybe we really can pursue that Big Dream together.
     If maybe the right time is Now.

We never know what our dreams mean. Or when the right time will be to seize them.

He leads us to courage every single day.

Courage that says it's okay to venture in the water and See. 

There aren't impulses here. Just readiness. 

_______________________________________________

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appreciating the long road

I've often craved instant.

Get it over with. Fix it now. Make it happen. Don't delay.

The pain seems so heavy and thick when I imagine the road of living that might be required. 

Yet, I've come to realize it's really the fear of pain that is worse than the actual pain.

What I imagine might be is hardly ever the way I imagine it to be.

Pride tells me that I know how I will feel or what will happen.

Truth tells me I am not that good in my imagination. 

I just don't know what is around the bend in the road. Or what will cross my path to make the journey different.

A song on the radio. A doe and her two fawns. An elderly couple in the car next to me. A child waving.

Our thoughts are instantly shifted the moment our sight line is changed.

A diagnosis. A different job. A change in salary letter. A note home from the teacher. The call.

Our plans are instantly sidelined the moment our path is changed. 

The unexpected in our journey often feels like a D E L A Y or a detour.

We know what we want and when we want it. Yet life doesn't always work out that way.

I've only begun to really live by faith. Trusting more than I ever have before.

I've only recently chose willingness--to See what I've always been afraid to see. 

Time. Trust. Cooperation.

That's what God asks of me. It's what makes the difference in living free versus living in fear.

Like my child who always wants to know where we're going or what we're doing next, I constantly mull over what might be coming down the pike for us in our life.

I am learning...slowly...that God wants me here and to enjoy the journey. 

Life is a long road of sometimes hairpin turns and other times long straight desert-like lengthy moments. The valleys can be deep and the mountains can be high.

Every single view was crafted by Him. Every single moment made for purpose.

_______________________________________________

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our love story

We aren't big on Valentine's Day.

Our days are an attempt to deliberately focus in on each other.

We do this by lingering longer.

I approach his bedside, veering off from my path toward getting dressed. Making a choice to spend a few extra minutes close to him, this choosing speaks to me as much as to him.

I tuck my arms around his mid-section and he envelopes me with his strongness, and I fit in that space reserved for me.

I give him signals of my hope for intimate moments later in the day. I pray I can fulfill the moment's whisper after the day has ransacked my energy.

We carve out a day a month for each other and talk about our plans for the coming season. We exchange creative ideas on projects for our house.

The Boy talks all silly-like and we exchange glances and smile.
How this connects us warms me on the inside like a cup of hot tea.

Keeping it simple is our philosophy. 

It's actually his. I'm finally learning--trusting this is best for us.

Sometimes I sprawl a journal out on the desk with a note for him.

But, mostly it isn't my writing he is interested in--it's the truth of my heart lived out. He looks for evidence of what I say and write to be among our *whirl and twirl* of days.

I've learned so much from this man--my groom. 

He isn't perfect or even expected to be...
As much as I may frustrate him, there's acceptance for me...
He isn't my every thing, and never can be...
He's not any better than me. I'm not any worse than him. Or better...
Our uniqueness is for purpose. We're flavors to our Boy's palate...

Doing this together thing is challenging. 
     It requires a daily choosing to remember the other. 
          It requires a commitment to connect. Regularly. 

The times when it's hardest are when I haven't wanted to bend low to see his perspective. When I've been reticent to step away from my own perch.

When I remember him and his view, Every. Thing. Changes.

I begin to understand that there's always a different way.
And I begin to loosen the grip I hold on what I think is expected.

Instead of living for how our story should read, I start to just *live*.

Sometimes our living looks sloppy when pride threatens to lessen our perceived value of each other.

Rushing about here and there often leads us to putting each other in the back seat, tucked away and out of sight.

Choosing each other and working on our story, versus rapidly filling a house with babes is a choice we both believe in. Though it took me time to understand this and make it my choice, too, I now crave this togetherness like never before.

It's time in this marriage that has helped me to step back from him and step toward Him at the same time, learning the artful dance of togetherness. 

I've expected and needed less of him.
And I've trusted and enveloped more of Him.

Most of all, it's Time in living our story that has showed me Grace like nothing else.

Pure. Grace.

_______________________________________________

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Why I can't seem to commit to anything

It wakes me in the way-too-early break of day--the thought of whether it's because of Fear that I can't seem to commit to anything.

Friends ask me if I'm going to certain places in the new year.
Marketing tries to convince me that I should register for this and that.

Wonderment over whether those are for me--and for now--keep my schedule open.

There's reason He keeps me non-committal to them.

Getting out of bed and facing the questions, I find Peace.

There's reasons I haven't committed. And it's for purpose.

My life is different. Managing a professional career, one in which I often travel overnight and leave my family, I make very few choices to be apart from them on a weekend. In fact, I don't recall that I ever have.

My writing isn't related to my work. And so, sacrifice would be required more than I feel should right now, at least.

And though advice comes my way that I deserve the time for me, I can't help but feel a painful rubbing with each well meaning word.

Personal convictions keep me home.

Sometimes guilt, but mostly convictions in my commitment to two very important people, and myself.

So, for now I'm busy with this career and this family. Conferences are reserved for mandatory work purposes. Yes's are given to others sparingly.

Time continues to be delicately and deliberately divided. 

_______________________________________________

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Why I might not read your blog

There was a time when I read more blogs than I do now.

Sometimes I spend a whole day reading ones I miss or just discovered.

And that is why I might have unsubscribed or just don't read your blog with the same frequency that I once did.

It isn't because you are boring or unfocused. I cringe to ever think that.
Your place is refreshing and the words you share are meaningful.

Time is precious and I had to make a choice to cut-back,
     so I can *hear*.

I might be back some day. I might comment about how your words really touched me. For now, what I read is limited and who I engage with is an even smaller group.

I want to hear His voice. I want the words I read to be ones that stich me closer to Him and not closer to a quilt patch of chaos.

Sure, I can sort out viewpoints, opinions and stories. But...

There's a point where it becomes *noise* 
     and where it's more of you I am seeing,
     and less of Him. 

The new year has brought with it a readiness for change in my heart, and in this place.

There won't be a place to *comment* here. 
Quiet and still will be honored, not voice and compliment. 

If taking your time to share is a good investment of your living, then please write to me directly.

We can more deliberately correspond that way, and more privately share. And if it takes me a bit to respond, please know your words aren't unheard.

In this new year I will trust that the words I write will be for *purpose.*
And, writing for One needs to be enough for me, anyway.

_______________________________________________

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how I plan to spend my time at home

Expectations tell me to enjoy.

Craving Rest, I long for nothingness.

Video games playing. Movie watching. Family visiting. Workout forgo-ing.

Plans are imagined, developed, frosted and decorated.

So delicious-looking that I can't even bring myself to touch them.
These plans are just as fake as the adornments.

There may be rushing about and boredom,
and probably some shouting and crying.

We might wish we could run to school or work.

Reality will run her course.

Some things are for certain.

Peace will follow me. 
Love will lead me. 
Grace will free me.

Expectations will dissolve and perfection-seeking will crumble.

Those idols never last long--
     always the first to break, the ones I adorn the most.

He'll find me when I forget.
He'll comfort me when I cry.

And, I'll adore--Always. Adore.

In simple ways His beauty will be found.
And I will See *purpose*, even in my mess.

During my time home this week, I'll be living in a very real way. 
Simply and truly living.

_______________________________________________

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living gratefully :: white spaces

Turning the page at the start of a new month, I see *white spaces.*

Wide open, these spaces catch my attention.

And I Hope for focus--deliberate focus on spending our days with a grateful heart.

My heart aches for these wide open white spaces to be filled in a way that is beautiful worship.

More free time.

Time to live free. 

These are our days.
And this month, it's our pause button on busy and an ottoman for rest.

Thank you, Father, for this special month of thanks. 
May each day build an altar of grateful worship to you.

_______________________________________________

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when stepping back is the gift

Sometimes Grace shows up by giving space for hurt; permission, almost--Freedom. 

I am Seeing that for some people, hearing my voice, reading my words, and even seeing images of me, might feel a bit like a bandaid ripped off, leaving the wound exposed--raw. Feelings naked.

Some people just aren't ready for that kind of revealing.

Grace understands and she lets time heal.

Grace steps back and says she can wait.

I've spent my life trying to make a relationship.
I've thought if I live everything right then one would bloom.
I've focused on fixing my failings--owning my part in the fence between us.

I forgave {for freedom sake}, and I admit that I thought it would solve everything; that I'd be healed from all pain.

But it didn't work like that.
I feel like a failure for not making it happen--the reconciliation.

Knowing the weakness and inabilities of humans, I don't trust the capability of others to forgive. He can't {possibly} forgive completely and perfectly.

I've looked inward and tried even harder to forgive because maybe I just didn't forgive enough.

I feel shameful when I fail. And so when pain remains it makes me wonder what I did, or what else I need to do. I feel not good enough.

Truth is, sometimes I need to do *less.*

It's not about Me. 

This perspective is the *thin place* where faith believes He has purpose for the time.

I am learning to step back and choose Grace--for him and for me to live in the pain.

What I think of what our relationship {maybe} should be, I am sad for what it isn't, and yet maybe what it Is, is mercy in disguise--and Grace.

Truth tells me what it is *today* is for purpose, and invites me to lean into Grace to Let. It. Be.


Thank you, Father, that I can trust you with even *this.* 
I lift my hands off and trust in Your Hands. 
_________________________________

Gratitude for {Grace}...

...readiness for a new season...

...perspective of choosing *different*...

...lunchtimes with {just} my groom and me...

...protection from flooding...

...Seeing *purpose* in {even} animals...

...tickets for the Boy to attend his first D-I football game...

...a {real} community...

...a job. {period}...

...purpose in prayers...

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living toward healing

Nearly three weeks ago I wrote about the *freedom to forgive* and the premise was about my father. Courageously, I chose to See that forgiveness sets people free--the one being forgiven, and the one extending the forgiveness.

Since then, pain in my heart has been awakened. Band-aids have been removed and scabs have been exposed. The wounds remain as hardened, blistered sores.

I've looked with envy at the relationships of others and longed for what I don't have with my own father. I've felt left out, lonely. Lies have surfaced telling me that all I do is make a mess of things, when really all I try to do is right things.

I've seen how my fears of making a mistake and of people being mad at me, they both are directly tied to my hurt--of always feeling like I make matters worse with my family, and how what I do makes them turn their backs on me and shut me out.

The way I've had a compulsion for order and control, it's because of what I've lived. And I know to not make excuses--to *own* my part--and I know I should live differently; live with more flexibility and get over those hurts.

But I can't.

The hurt remains.

I can't make myself heal.
I can't just decide to make myself change and expect it to happen.
I can't make myself trust in a different way of living, and never fall back into the tendency to fear and question.

Seeing this, I recognized something I never had the courage to admit.
I am not just plain jealous of others.

I. Am. Mad. At God--my Father. 

I want to be like her. I want to live like he says I should. I want to be changed--forever. And I don't understand why I am not healed of all of this, yet.

For so many years I have known there is a better way of living, I've known what it is, and I've *decided* that I am going to make changes.

Folks say "just put your mind to it," and I've believed it. I've even surrendered to Him, leaned into trusting even this is *for purpose,* yet--the hurt remains.

Truth is, we can't sustain lie-living. It's a lie to masquerade as someone who I am not, and far too often I've lied mostly to myself. I can't just convince myself that I am healed. I can't just get over the pain in my heart.

I can't just say I forgive and expect change. It's a process--it's life lived.

People say I am too hard on myself. I hear that as I need to forgive my weaknesses.

So, I do. And yet, the pain is so deep; I don't have the tools to plunge it all out.

I've told my Father that I want to be healed...I long for reconciliation...I don't need apologies...and I've chosen to forgive.

So much goodness has come into my heart as a result of these choices.

Beauty has bloomed.
Walls in my heart have shattered--I've literally heard them crash.
Chains have unlocked and I've {begun} to live in Freedom.

I believe in surrender. I believe He is worthy of our trust.

But I also believe that He allows pain for purpose, we can't just decide to rid ourselves of it--He has to do the rest; He has to finish the story as He designed it.

I've tried to make the healing happen by my own, and I can't.

Beauty is seen more magnificently on the darkest of canvas. My understanding of this is in the most personal ways of my heart.

He stands-in where my imperfection lives. 
He fills the gap--heals and makes whole. 

And in the mean time, I trust that He uses all for purpose, including my pain and strangled relationships.

I am not sure I want to give my Father another day with my heart. And yet, He's the keeper of it.

When I am honest with Him that I am mad He hasn't done what I think He should have done in me by now, He looks at me with Grace. He lets me feel that way.

Thank you, Father, for all of this. I lean into Truth: All. Is. For. Purpose...even. this. 
___________________________________________

Gratitude for {Grace}...

...the Boy-Man's tears over his Poppy being called into work...

...and the understanding that washes over him when *truth* is told: people are being helped by this sacrifice of time...

...neighbors sharing practically a *boat-load* of blueberries they spent time picking...

...strength for a long run...

...football season and something *fun* to talk about with my groom...

...a *free-ish* family vacation from points-saved during work travel...

...imagining loving a four-legged creature...

...a connection with grace-lovers...


___________________________________________

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Five Minute Friday :: Older

It's Friday--*Freedom Day* from my perspective; a day in the week to remind me that perfect is not the goal. And nor is even getting close to it. So I live and breathe and soak in the freedom-to-be-me, just as I am now.

I'm joining several others in heart-sharing. Carve out a space {even if it's a paper napkin}, and play along, for Just. Five. 

Today's prompt:

*Older*

GO

Though I'm older doesn't make as much of a difference.

Time doesn't do the healing on its own. 

Seeing the truth in this is painful. I think I made time out to be an idol of sorts.

Hearts are wounded raw, struck and beaten with words.

We turn to time--flying away into it and taking cover from the storm.

When we think enough time has passed, and when we think we're older now and we have grown, we step out with brave feet. We walk the path toward each other and exchange a few words, only to find that time has been a band-aid and the wounds have been scabbed over.

Quickly, we retreat back into the caves of time.

The reality that just because I am older now and still the pain remains, makes me realize that healing only comes from Him. 

I trust there is purpose in it all, and I remember that only God knows what is best. Just because we think we should be ready, doesn't mean we are.

Wounds are deeper than the surface and as they become older they sometimes grow even deeper, though sometimes they heal completely.

I can only hope that there is purpose in growing older and the pain still remaining, at least for now. 

Though it appears as though there will never be true healing--relationships restored as though never broken--I know His promises are true.

Someday when I'm even older, this side of Heaven or not, there will be wounds no more.

STOP.

__________________________________________

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when vacation is work

An hour in and the tug to pull-back began.

Grumbling and angst overwhelmed me. The noise of having a place among them was giving me a headache.

A new friend asked me if I'd had a good morning {with my groom} while the Boy-Man was at basketball camp. And without thinking, the truth came out--No! It was hard. We couldn't even get through a round of golf together without stomping off in bitter anger.

I felt the warmth in my cheeks rise up my face. Truth-telling can be embarrasing.  

Re-entry into our home after traveling for business used to be difficult. It would take a good few days for our family to settle back into the three of us, and for me to find my rhythm in being heard and respected by my little boy.

We've had a lot of practice with that re-entry since those early days when my son would run to the door in excitment over his mama returning home, and then almost seem to make me pay for leaving him by distancing himself from me the next day.

Nowadays, the Boy-Man expects the frequent trips and still just hugs me in delight when I return, though sometimes the tears well up for both of us.

Being home all day is different, though.
It takes patience to see that hard work {really does} pay-off.

Vacation days can be work.

The rhythm of every day life changes. Expectations are high that relaxing will come easily. And the thought of what full-time {re-}entry into our home will look like, doesn't cross my mind--until being home is suddenly harder than full-time work out of the home.

I wasn't prepared for the challenge--for the work vacation would require.

And maybe that's some of the point of vacation. Sometimes we need to let things settle, and sometimes it really takes work for a new rythm to develop.

As the days have been lived, our vacation-pace has found its way to the surface. The intense and busy waters have become more calm and relaxed.

The Boy-Man has let himself reach for me more often and at least once his favorite part of the day was going on a walk--With. Me. And that walk in particular, it was all about touching--holding hands, wrapping an arm around a little body, and saying I love you with the squeeze of our hands.

The Man-Boy and I have breathed easier together. We've done our share of touching and holding, and said I love you with tenderness of time-giving. We've partnered more in parenting and felt less like machines.

We've continued to practice real living during these days--I've exercised my body and mind, the Boy-Man has exercised his mind with piano and math practicing, and the Man-Boy has researched and considered improvements to our house.

Yet, we've also accepted the challenge to continue practicing relaxed living during these days--we've listened to the birds, watched fireworks while lying on our backs, kayaked and swam in refreshing water, eaten sweet foods and stayed up much too late. 

Our eyes burn from too much sun.
Our hair is blonder.
Our skin is darker.
Our hearts feel bigger.

Including today, four more days remain of our first week of vacation together. It's taken time for us to adjust to time-together, and it'll take a bit for us to adjust back to the *whirl and twirl* of living a bit more distanced. But it's all important--a necessary part of the process in building and sustaining relationships.

I'm Seeing the importance in this time off.

It hasn't been easy, and the next batch of weeks off might be work to vacation. Still, though, I See how the slowed down, deliberate carving-out-of-time for togetherness really does bring us closer to each other.

The typical every day schedules keep us distant, and the natural inclination is to be firm and rigid. But vacation has this way of exposing the soul and making ourselves available--for play, hugs, touching, loving--in a way like no other. Firm becomes soft again.

Thank you, Father, for the space in our Now for vacation-days, and for what these days do to our relationships. I See that the *work* in time together is So. Very. Necessary.

The time has arrived ...

for *deliberate* {heart-carving} ...

*family* {connecting}

*parade* {going}

*fun* {discovering}

*corn* {picking}

*water* {soaking}

*feet* {relaxing}

*porch* {chatting}

*boat* {watching}

   ... kind o' days.

Where ever your journey takes you, may it be savory-sweet, belly aching-great-Big-Joy!

 

And, may {Grace} be your Daily Bread ...

live in Today

Dreams.  We've all got them.  And sometimes they can be so big that it seems impossible to stay focused on T o d a y.

*Today* seems so small-ish.  So purpose-less.

But it isn't.

We're changed by Today.  We're better prepared for Tomorrow by Today's circumstances.

*Today* births Tomorrow.

And so, I challenge [us] to seize Today.

Breathe Today in deep.
Drink in Today's blessings as your cup is filled.
Let Today envelop you.
Unwrap Today's gifts of {Grace}.

And those dreams of Tomorrow?  If they're God's will, they'll still happen.  So why rush them?

Like a babe in the womb, these gifts need growing and preparing for the living.

And just think, maybe there is someone who will be touched by your Story and who needs to face many Today's before she is prepared to collide with you Tomorrow.

Today. Matters.
Be. Fully. Here. Now.

letting time tick on

I've been commenting to some friends about a transforming truth for me.  And now my own encouragement for others has spoken to me:

*Now* is important.  

I have already written a bit about this truth in this small space here where I cozy up and find freedom to live my story, made-for-purpose.

And yet, I'm still unwrapping the meaning of all of this.

You see, there's a few things I've got on my heart - things I need to do, places I'll see, people I'll meet - and I need to wait.

I can't rush the process of getting *there*.  Right *now* is necessary.  

The *now* in my life brings me to my Father.  

I'm not exactly good at exercising patience, though.

Just like the One Hundred Push-Up goal I have, *now* gets me to *there* -

             one patient-wait-right-here at a time,
             and one hefty push-me-up at a time.

There are reasons I need to wait on a few things in my life, and mostly I think it's to learn more about trusting my Father.  

He's a trust-worthy Papa, and I want to snuggle up and rest in His plans for me.  I want Him to be my Papa, not a fairy-tale-Big-Guy-in-the-sky.

My Father doesn't rush about.  He rests.  He invites me to saddle up next to Him, and to listen as He reads His story for my life.

He wants to use My story for His Story - for others' stories who He wants to weave with my life.

The *now* really needs to be my focus.

It's hard to wait, and I'm still not sure why it's so hard for me.

I keep telling Him I trust Him, and remembering He'll lead me wherever He wants me to go.

I'm learning to take off my shoes, put up my feet, lay my head in His lap, feel His breath, and just rest in His *now* for my life.

He tells me this and I find rest:

There's no need to rush in the getting there, my Beloved...be here with me, in the space of *now*.  There's purpose in *this* and I don't want you to miss this.

sometimes...

...maybe we need a change in pace.

I wake up before the men in my life and just sit in the early morning light of the day.  Soaking in the stillness and wondering what God will have of me on this day.

It's Sunday morning and I realize that I haven't even heard the birds.  And I think maybe this is a day of rest for them, too.  Maybe they've gone on a weekend holiday from my backyard.

The Man-Boy is out early for a round of golf and he leaves tired {and so am I}, and I know his leaving early is for me.  He wants to give me time for myself later today - before the little guy has his own scheduled activity.  We all get our own piece of today.

I hold the Boy-Man and we talk about what we might do in this day.  He wants to play with a friend.  It's still so early -- I tell him that hardly anyone is awake and ready to play at seven o'clock on a weekend morning!

And so the Boy-Man lies on the couch and tries to just relax.

I need to clean the house.  But, not right now.  There's not much I feel like doing right now.

I watch the child and I soak this in.

Maybe, just maybe - this moment is just what I need.  This moment of not knowing what is coming next and just being here.

When teenagers are sleeping in from a night at the prom, and parents are breathing sighs of relief that she's home safely and he wasn't reckless...

And other parents are celebrating that the last tuition payment has been paid and now the rest is up to their {soon-to-be-in-a-few-hours} college graduate...

I think of how I'm not there {yet} and I just have this day.

This day when the small Boy-Man tells me he will go to college in Florida so he can go to the castle {at Disney} any time he wants...

This day when the Boy-Man still says Mama as a question each time he wants to tell me - any. thing...

This day when the Boy-Man still asks if I would {please} cut his pancakes...

This day when the Boy-Man and I skip our way through a walk and play Simon Says...

This day when the Boy-Man is brought to gutteral sobbing when he sees someone who his heart realizes he's missed so much, and I weep along with him as my heart understands his pain.

This day - this moment - sometimes just needs to be as it is.  No plans.  No activity.  Just comfort in the stillness and smiles at the simplicity.

Sometimes we just need to be here.

{Grace} for an *active life*

A slowed-down-season in my life is coming to an end.

After many adventures - including moving out of state with my family and all that came with that decision, and moving back *home* to where my groom and I were raised, then learning how to live as a family of 11 for one whole academic year - we wrapped it all up with nestling into our own abode (again), and entered into a season of a slower pace.

During our slowed down time, we were deliberate with our choices and we tried to not invite chaos into our lives.  And yet, we made (many) *new* friends and life continued to whirl and twirl around us, and we danced along joyfully.

There were a lot of just-play-times.  Early-to-bed-times.  Family-game-times.  Lots of chatting, baking, cooking, writing, laughing, wrestling, and cuddling.

*Huge discoveries* were made in the quiet and more slowed down.  

For me, this happened a lot through a job transition that took nearly two years.  In the first of the two, I was just trying to keep my naturally-over-achieving-self from going over the edge with guilt at the change in pace this job required (much more thinking).  And, in the second year I actually allowed myself the *freedom to live the job*.

The change in pace taught me {more} about *freedom to live*.

It felt good to push away the demands of the world and the expectations of society.  Our family was rejuvenated and found the simple joys all over again.

Fear and anxiety were a big part of our life for three years, and we spent much of those years knowing what would happen a good six months ahead of it happening.  It was exhausting to temper our enthusiasm and live in the moment. 

This past year has felt lovely - absolutely lovely.  I've lived {more} in the moment and not {so far} ahead.  I reached a point where I really am grateful for today, and I really cannot muster the strength to think about tomorrow.  And truly, it breaks my heart to get distracted and steal from today's joy's.

The other day I wrote about some anxiety I was having over all the *choices* life has to offer, and how the {little-ish} big-choices our family is facing - what sports and how many activities, and whether the cost is worth it - reminded me of all I learned in that slowed-down-season in our lives.

I learned a lot.

Being deliberate and thoughtful with every decision {with our time} brings greater rewards, and less regrets.

At the same time I wrote about our anxieties, I also talked about *moving forward* - even when we don't have all the answers, or when we might not feel ready {yet}.

Sometimes we just have to step out of the boat.  

Our slowed-down-season of life is coming to an end and our lives will see more activity.  I've come to appreciate the anticipation of the change that is coming in our lives.  I welcome the busy schedules we'll encounter.  I feel good about our choices.  I know the busyness is all good.

The man-boy will learn new things.  He will discover more about music and himself.  *Someone new* will have an influence on this child, through teaching piano, and also with the start of a new sport and the continuation of another.

He's six and longs to be in activities where his friends are, and I understand that desire.  And yet, as his parent I know he'll connect with a different part of our community, and he'll experience different things by giving them a try.

I'll connect with more people, too.  And it'll be an adventure for me.  I'm naturally inclined to be *introverted* - tending to shy away from reaching out - and I know that the new-ness in our Spring will enhance my life.

I'm thinking about taking a *risk* in a personal way and exploring my creativity a little more, and that's exciting.  And scary.  Just one more thing to add to the list, and perhaps the one-more-thing that could make *all the difference*.

Perspective makes all the difference.

Right now, busy-ness will be a very good thing for my family and me.  We'll apply what we've learned in the time our life has been slowed down.  Our energy is renewed and our minds refreshed.  We're ready for {more} activity.

Busy will {hopefully} be done gracefully.  But I know it could end up sloppy.  Either way, it'll be good for us.

We'll have another slowed-down-season again, but for now it's exciting to step out of the boat and say yes to the *new* - and to receive Grace for an *active life*!

{Grace} of *this age*

The days are longer and I hold onto the light, each sliver.

A quick glance out the window after we've finished the dishes and had our full of the last meal of the day, and I suggest a walk?  They agree.

We open the door to the brisk air.

Our neighbor across the way opens his door at the same time we do, and he asks if he can join us.  We're all hesitant, wanting to keep this time to ourselves.  Saying "of course" was the right thing to do, the better thing.  We could share this time.

The light is nearly gone now.  Still, we walk.  And we talk.

Together, we chat about smart boards...and first grade...and dogs...and losing teeth...and fish...and our grandmothers...and cars...and accidents...and life.

Our neighbor-man's children have grown up and moved out.  He smiles and says he misses *this age*.  He's enamored with the chatter of our boy-man, and we have no idea just how fast time will seem to go.  We cannot imagine missing *these days* and think we'll have them forever.

He thanks us for allowing him to go with us.  For the conversation and for the *time* with the child.

We are blessed, we know this.  And it feels so good to know that we blessed him, too.  We extended Grace and his heart was blessed.

Later on my groom tells the boy how he's one third of the way to college.  The boy smiles all delighted at the thought of being a man and moving away, and he just knows it'll bother his mama so he pokes and prods me a little to see if I'll bite.  And I do.  Of course I do.  I tell him that I don't know what I'll do when he's gone - that maybe I'll ride horses, that I'll still write and read, and still spend time with his Daddy, and that I'll miss him, of course.

Growing up and out is necessary.  It's an important part of life and I've known it from the beginning.  Give him wings has been a constant thought, and yet I hold on - thinking that the someday will be here later.  Yet, I know it's here now.

What we do today will affect tomorrow, and the boy's mind will remember more of these days for years to come.  What we do today could be a part of the stories he tells his own children as he tucks them into bed.  These are the days to remember.

So we cherish and hold tight, and remember to loosen our grip and give him wings.

Picking our battles, we remind ourselves that he's learning to make good choices, for him.  And so we step back and watch, and guide, and correct, and encourage, and love.

This boy-man isn't just for us, I am reminded after the walk with our neighbor-man.  He's for the world.  He's for God to use in the most unimaginable ways.  Just as He's using us in the most unimaginable ways.

Time ticks on - the boy grows and we grow, too.  We remember that love does not come from this boy alone, and to not hold too tight because one day he will grow up and move out, and our marriage will remain, and even if death parts us we will still have Love.

Our entire being isn't made up of the roles we have now as Mama and Daddy, and the Love that envelopes us isn't just this boy-man's pure heart or the vows we exchanged a decade ago.

Time ticks on and I am reminded that God's Love is so much bigger and His Grace extends farther than we can ever reach.

It is Grace to have another day, and it is Grace to receive His Love through this child and this man.  And it is Grace to know that they are only a small piece - just a fragment - of just how amazing is His Love.

letting it marinate

Everything takes time to become something.  And everything needs a specific length of time to become something it's on its way to becoming - it's purposeful something.

If pulled back too early, a band-aid can inhibit healing.  If awoken too early, a restful time can become more harmful.   Time is required of all things and sometimes its immeasurable time.

Writing to me is like water - it's necessary to my being.  I'm one of those people who needs to be watered regularly and often.  (If you're paying attention, those really are two different and distinct things - regularly and often.)  I can't just drink one time and call it a day.  Oh, I do sometimes, though!  But I become withered and my brain becomes mush; my attitude lioness-like.  I have to drink often.  Writing is like that.  It's a have to.  It's a must.  And kind of like water, I have to write often and regularly.  But my kind of writing is the random kind on note cards with scribbled little phrases, thoughts and ideas.  I've got several little pieces of paper that follow me around until I've got something more to capture.  Then it goes in a notebook for more brain-dumping.  Marinating.

Ideas become seasoned and just like food, the flavors of the ideas come together.  My regular and often writing isn't seen by most folks as regular and often.  It's marinated until its ready to be tasted.  Like my cooking, it isn't perfect by any means, but hopefully it has flavor - sweet flavor that awakens the senses when savored.

It is my desire to make a difference.  Is that ideological to believe I can?  In this world of a billion-whatever-only-God-knows-how-many people, do I really think that little insigificant-feeling-me can make a difference?  That's like saying a single drop of rain in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean is felt by my friend dipping her toes in the beaches along the Sarasota shore-line.  It's like believing that when I pray for someone, she can feel it.  Well, I kinda do believe that.  I'm one of those people who truly believes that anything is possible.  Anything.

And so, in my desire to make a difference I truly want to help someone come out of a feeling of hopeless dispair and into a light of joy and gratitude for the situation that is that angst.  I so much desire to help someone see the beauty that can be made from ashes, and the purpose in every single part of their story.  I want to help bring someone closer to Hope and Love and Peace and Grace, and it is Joy that is the decision to help see those virtues.  Joy decides to accept the story for what it was, what it is, and it's joy that looks to the future with a natural belief in hope.

In my longing to help others, I admit that selfishness and pride creep in.  I want to be noticed.  I want to be someone's savior, in a way.  I want to know that what I did helped them.  And yet, I may never.

I may never know if the hours I spent listening and talking with a few of the boys who I chose to love and invite into my heart - the boys who are given A Better Chance academically - if they will remember the things I said and be moved and helped by having been given a different perspective that will help them forever.  I don't know.

I don't know if the words I say today to my son will stick with him and help him later on, or if what I said two years ago will creep up into his mind if he ever parents his own child years from now.  I don't know.

I don't know if what I pray will give someone peace...or if what I said hurt someone when it was intended for encouragement...or if what I write will be noticed and helpful to someone today.  I don't even know for complete sure whether that God I worship is really there.

Faith is the evidence of things that are unseen.  This I read in the Bible.  And it makes so much sense.  I believe in God wholeheartedly (most of the time) and yet I'm still amazed when a friend calls me after I've just been thinking of her.  Faith never leaves me and I understand how I didn't choose it.  Try as I might, sometimes I try to shake it, but it remains a part of me and I believe in the Hope.

And so, although I often think I'm not noticed and I'm not valued, I know that's wrong.  As much as I tend to navigate toward living in the darkness, kinda like how I run - early when it's still dark and I can't be noticed by many -  I know that's not living wholly-me.  To keep to myself, even my writing, is wasting this life I've been given.  It's my choice.  I won't be loved any less if I don't live out loud.  But I'll miss out on so much, and potentially will so many others.  So, I'll keep on - letting my ideas marinate and then serving them up to be tasted - believing there is purpose in this life I live.

Letting ideas marinate and having Peace in the Faith that those ideas will have flavor, is progressive.  Ideas go somewhere when we let them have their way and become something in time.  And so, I believe that as I continue to marinate and become who I am intended to be over time, there will be an effect that may not be seen to me, and yet it doesn't matter because my choice to Trust and live wholly-me is my worship.