Filling the inbox

You are sitting next to me right now and are 4 years old.  Your thumb is in your mouth as you wait patiently for me to be done.  It has been rainy and cold the last few days, but my heart is warm.  Leif you bring me so much joy.  I don't know what God has in store for you, but it is something wonderful.  There is so much vitality and love in you.  You are a lover of people, your gaze draws people in.  You have no fear and though at times it may make my heart skip a beat I hope you never loose it.  A life lived in fear is not a real life, only a shadow of the possibilities.  It is true that we have had a rough week.  Your campaign against all things green continues and I have Increased my expectations for you.  But know this.  Even as I take you and lead you out of potluck by the hand screaming, I love you.  Even as you refuse to put  on your boots, I love you.  As you stand crying at the bottom of the stairs not wanting to go to bed, I love you.  As you refuse to use the bathroom, I love you.  As you refuse your pajamas, I love you.  And as we snuggle in bed, asking forgiveness of each other, I love you.  You have my heart little one in a fierce hold and I will never be free of it.  I thank God that I will never be free of it.  Because in case you didn't know..........  I love you.

Higher Ground

Somewhere in the middle and there is no place for me.  Left or right, front or back, watch the pendulum swing.  No mans land, neutral ground no longer existing.  Pick a side, grab a weapon, fight with words.  Oh how I loathe war mentality.  Brothers and sisters torn asunder.  I will not fight, I will talk.  I will not pick up the blade but rather extend my hand.  Shall we search together.  There is a promise that if we seek him we will find him, but first let us leave to battlefield and move to higher ground.

Lauging at the days to come.....

There is no balance in life.  This myth of  balance has overtaken conversation.  If only we can strike the right combination, the perfect recipe, the zen moment in our lives, then we will reach parenting nirvana, womanly bliss, marital perfection, all while keeping a clean house and a toned tummy.  Well I will call it what it is, a fairytale.  A damaging, guilt inducing, confectionery disaster.  Sometimes you can't have balance, life throws an avalanche at you, and you are just scrambling to get out of the way.  Not thinking "How can I pare down on the snow in this spot, or reroute my resources?", just moving instinctively to preserve life.  Life is full and good, hard and overwhelming, stretching and testing.  Daily pushing at the boundaries, testing the limits, increasing the tension.  I would have my life no other way, even though there are moments that make me question why I bother.  I know that it is good, there is a purpose, and out of the hard places comes new life and growth.  Turning up the dross in my heart, testing my motivations, checking my attitudes and my pride at the door.  This is no trite, self glorification where I am my own salvation, and the world must hold its breath as I find myself, and the balance within.  The elusive myth of perfection.  It is daily picking up, laying down, shutting up, putting up with, humbling oneself and asking nothing for what you give.  Doing the work because it needs to be done, not because I feel like it.  Entering into the relationship not for what it gives me, but rather for what I can give.  Giving, serving, sacrificing, there is no balance in these things.  I choose to be a giver and not a taker, this is the price that I am willing to pay.  I don't want to be centered on myself, self centered.  I want to be fully in the tension, acknowledging the moment, and entering into the fray of life.  Finding life in the middle of the storm, flourishing in the chaos, buffeted and strengthened by the blowing winds.  Coming out on the other side and laughing at the days to come.

Never ending..........

Sometimes it is daunting looking at a blank screen, so many thoughts and nothing to say.  Tired eyes that will soon be closing and taking their long awaited rest.  The weekend has been long and good.  Up at 6 am the last few days to cook for the masses, the teenage masses.  Handsome husband is up north with the kids, I have this evening to myself.  Could be doing anything right now, could be dancing, could be at a show, out to a meal, running around with the ladies.  So many possibilities, freedom, and yet I freely choose to gaze on photos of my children.  What is this thing called love that burns inside of me?  I am consumed with unashamed emotion at the thought of my family, the sweetness of their smiles, the light of their eyes.  Anything is possible tonight and here I sit.  Anything.  I want nothing more then what I have been allotted.  Just the freedom of possibility is enough to brighten the soul.  I feel no need to escape, to get away.  Why would I leave the people who give me the most joy behind when I adventure?  I want to share my joy with them.  There is something dangerous in the mindset of escapism.  Never content, always longing.  Teach me contentment and satisfaction in the meaningless, the mundane, the draining.  To glimpse the beauty instead of seeking out the ashes.  Fill my mind with good things, meaningful things.  So tired of distraction, the binge and purge of media, of news feeds, of articles about this and that.  Junk food to the soul.  The more I take in, the greater the hunger, the greater the discontentment.  Article after article of rubbish, stuffing our souls with free bread, and so turning down the meat.  Ingestion.  Indigestion of the soul.  Gluttons and starving, obese and malnourished.  The over-informed generation with nothing new to say.  And so the discontentment grows.  It is the nothing of our land.  Is there yet a grain of sand remaining on which we may wish upon?  I wish upon my children, my husband, my faith, my loved ones.  These are my grains of sand on which my wishes and my dreams rest.  And though to some it may seem as futility to hope in such small things, they have been given a new name, they are the beloved.  What is this thing called love that burns so deeply inside of me?  Grasping it is beyond me, but enjoying it is not.

Transparency

Lord save me from myself, my good intentions and misplaced emotions.  The coffee is growing cold and my feet are warm under the covers.  Handsome husband is gone for the night.  Guy time, good times, essential.  Looking forward to not making dinner, the nights I don't cook seem to bring the most excitement for the children.  Hot and ready, cheap and packaged.  Not made with love, but rather trying to make a buck using the least quality ingredients allowable and my children love them.  It is okay, just like the pile of laundry on the couch is okay, and bordering on becoming installation art.  Title "If its not in the main space then it doesn't bother me!".  I have a prime view of this masterpiece from my bed as I type, color, shape, texture, and form.  At least it is clean.  New life came into the world today.  Joy and unexpected sorrow.  Life is funny that way, celebrating the new, remembering the lost.  Lost lives, lost friendships, lost faith.  Tomorrow we celebrate the undeniable fact that I am indeed inching closer to 40, and many friends will be there.  Some are budding relationships full of possibility, and wonder.  Still smitten, still wooing.  Others the romance is dieing and I feel the need to fight for it.  Relationship is a bitch.  One day you are infatuated and the next deflated.  So many people whose lives have intersected with mine, some very dear and long lasting.  Others were a fling, emotional, and lacking depth.  The one thing that we crave, were created for seems to be one of the hardest things to maintain.  Mind you I am not a prize catch myself.  Love you, woo you, completely available in the moment, but poor at the homework, the daily maintenance.  I was the student who would ace the tests and not turn in the homework.  I don't set out to mislead, I just don't function that way.  Yesterdays birthday lunch out with with lovely ladies I received 3 meaningful cards and a gift.  Yet I forgot to bring anything, I am good in the moment, bad in the maintaining.  Lent is almost over and I look forward to the end of what has been an epic fail on the holiness meter.  And yet it has been fruitful, in the failing day after day to control my flesh I see the need for someone greater then me.  I am not being dismissive or fishing for compliments, but rather in somber reflection there has been this realization:  I am not great.  I do not want to be one of those people who thinks of themselves more highly then they ought.  I can be a crappy friend, a stern mother, a quarrelsome wife, an opinionated daughter, and a forgetful member of society.  There will be many wonderful women there tomorrow night, some look forward to it, others completely forgot it.  Both are okay.  And even though I am not that great, I will still fight for you, I will still love you and speak life to the dry bones of relationship.  New life entered the world today, beauty, a new heart beat and soul.  And I realize that life is good and worth fighting for.  As is faith, and as are you.  Because in the end the only legacy that we leave is the trail of lives that we have touched, birthed, and loved.