Pointless Rambling

One of my favorite things about Ann Voskamp's writing is that she makes me think. She puts thoughts out there that refuse to leave you comfortable and content. She challenges. In turn we take the challenge and then turn and challenge others, and it spreads out like ripples and the world is changed. I guess we really can change the world, if only one ripple at a time.

God provided a rather timely opportunity this morning at Element. The question was posed and the floor opened up to any who wanted to share what God had been doing in our lives over the past six weeks or so. It was last call, and before I could stop it, my hand went up and Bobby nodded. I stood up and did my best to condense the joy and impact and change that One Thousand Gifts has brought. It was hard to keep it brief, and I honestly can't even remember all of what I said (only that there was so much more I wanted to say but there wasn't time). I had to smile when I sat back down and Bobby grinned and said I had led perfectly into his message as though we had planned it that way. We didn't, but Someone did.

His wife shared with me a little later that she hadn't had an opportunity to pick up a copy of the book since I had told her about it a few weeks back, and when she opened her birthday present from her mom-in-law this past week, she gasped to find the book in the wrapping. Stumbling over her words, she tried to express how she had wanted this book badly, and how excited she was to receive it. I can't wait for her to get into it.

This feels like a rather aimless blog entry, but who knows? maybe God will do something with it.

Steve and I are alone tonight, sipping hot chocolate and sitting back-to-back at our computers here in the office. Matt is working five days this week, so he was off to Jeff's again after church. It's the end of Spring Break week, but there's another day off from school for Rosie's dance friends tomorrow, so that means one last beach trip. She redesigned one of her swimsuits this afternoon and I helped her sew it and then she was off, silky hair bouncing against her back on her way to the door. She is beautiful.

There are moments lately when I feel really overwhelmed. Not that being overwhelmed is anything new to me, really. Andrea's passing has had me pensive. She was really young to now be gone. What a legacy she left, praising God every moment without faltering. There's a lot to be learned, both from the way she lived and the way she died. I've asked myself internally over and over in the past four days if I could be so gracious in those shoes. I want to believe I could. I don't want to find out, but I know one day I will.

Tomorrow's blogging should have more purpose, more direction. I actually have some notes I made today for tomorrow's entry. Thankfully they aren't all as pointless as this one.

Five Minute Friday: On Waiting

Topic: On Waiting

Funny how I sit here waiting for words to come and nothing immediately pops into my head, so I start typing and hoping something will, kind of a literary fake-it-till-you-make-it. I've never cared much for waiting, but God has really done some rearranging in my heart in that area and I have found it's a little easier knowing that good things generally do come to those who wait. I did read once that the follow-up to that saying, though, is "...but only what's left behind by those who hustle", which I admit also has merit. Waiting to exhale...lady-in-waiting...waiting room...what are we waiting for? I've been asked that with regard to the book I'm supposed to be working on. I'm waiting on God. That sounds totally nose-in-the-clouds, but I assure you it is anything but. I keep hoping He will give me some kind of undeniable sign of exactly the pathway, a picture of the road sign, maybe, of the approach for this thing. And still I wait. And pray. And wait.

Time's up. (Shew!)

Adventures in Randomonium

I'm learning that it's okay to let life be infused with randomness. Fun, even.

For example, in my email this evening I received a daily writing prompt that said, "You are in the back seat of a taxi..." To which I immediately responded, "Oh, no I am not! I saw 'The Bone Collector', and this girl will so not be catching a cab!" Then I laughed out loud at myself. It's good to laugh at oneself from time to time, and out loud is even better.

So it didn't offend me at all when someone commented to me, "You are unusually random this evening!" It actually made me smile.

Not all of my thoughts are random, however. Indeed, I am currently in talks with God about literary direction. In normal language, that means I'm trying to get His precise direction on writing the book that is swimming around in my head and has been for some time but in so many diverse directions at once I've been more nauseous than creatively productive. Wait, where was I? Oh, yes, direction. So I'm praying and listening and fleshing some things out.

Steve asked me if I was journaling all the jumbled-up-ness. I love that man.

I've always fought structure and form, particularly in writing. I know I will have to face that squarely as I come closer to laying out this book since I will probably need an--shudder--outline. Oh, dear. Just the thought.

Why is it that I love writing poetry in provided forms but hate the thought of outlining an article or essay or (especially) book? I've always loved just seeing where the writing took me. Which is lovely for journals and blog entries but not so great for books that hope to see anyone's shelf but my own.

Outlines me no likey.

Alas, I may have to shake some of the randomness and get down to business with this outlining thing. I'm not quite there yet, though. There are still some things God and I have to work out first. It will come. It has to.

Doesn't it?

The Open Hands of Giving Hearts

There's just something about finding something amazing, something that makes an impact, something that splits your sky and throws open your eyes to beauty and propels you forward in relationship with God, and that something, that desire to share, makes it a natural response to immediately long to pass it along so others can enjoy it, too.

I feel this way about my marriage. I wish every woman in the world could know this kind of love, this level of being cherished, this feeling of knowing beyond a doubt that love is forever and can be trusted. I do know a few women who have love like this in their lives. I wish I knew more. I'd like to believe that as time goes on, I will know more.

I have this same feeling about our family. One of my favorite things in the world is to have someone come to us and say how they want family relationships like ours, want their children to love one another fiercely like ours do, want to have the fun we have and go at life with the same sense of adventure and joy. If we could bottle this, we wouldn't sell it. We would give it away, wherever we are, all the time. I'd like to think that in some way, we do.

I've shared One Thousand Gifts with so many people now I've lost count. Thus far, nearly everyone I've talked to about it has bought the book, and most have made it a point to tell me that it has made a mark in their lives. I shared it again today, and once again, she wrote down title and author with that excited gleam in her eye that I've seen several other times. Yes, she will get it soon, I can tell. And she will never be the same.

When something blesses, you want to share it, pass it on, keep the giving going on and on. I am grateful for grace that keeps my hands and heart open to receiving His good gifts and then allowing them to flutter their wings and catch a breeze to the next stop, another heart just like mine.

Our hearts long for His gifts, like breathing in the sweet scent of honeysuckles in summer. Sharing them is the exhaling of the joy of giving that was knit into us by the Giver of all good and perfect gifts.

To give is to receive joy twice.

Freely you have received; freely give.  Matthew 10:8

How Joy Comes

It's amazing what gets noticed when one starts noticing the little things.

I know what happened to me. I am slower to speak. I think about what I'm going to say, and the vast majority of the time now, if it's negative it doesn't get said. What's more, I find over time there are fewer and fewer negative thoughts to reject at the speech gate.

Which has been an interesting transition, looking back.

My heart was torn
My speech abated
My thoughts were altered
My spirit calmed

I notice how silly things sounded, things I said and wrote before.

I go back and look at old photos I've taken, but with new eyes. There is such beauty there. It was always there but I didn't see it. Not the way I see it now.

"A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones." Prov. 17:22

"The mouth speaks what the heart is full of." Matt. 12:34

So this circular thing, this cycle of internal healing, seems something God brought about for me and for many others throughout this big wide world through One Thousand Gifts and Ann's lovely words at A Holy Experience. All grace, and Ann is true to her name.

I wonder how many of us were living in spirit shells made of dried up bones before the opening of the eyes, the running for the moon, the Eucharisteo, the Paris promise, the counting of a thousand gifts and beyond, the noticing of the details of our lives and how God has written His name on each and every one, love notes that go straight to the soul and pierce it with the kind of I love you that can be counted on to be perfect and true and forever. All gifts. All grace. All gratefulness.

This is joy. To live every moment fully, completely, gratefully.

"...to celebrate with great joy, because they now understood
the words that had been made known to them."

Nehemiah 8:13

Counting Continues (156-187)

The counting of gifts continues, never stops.

I finished the reading of One Thousand Gifts today. Well, I should say I finished the first reading. I will be going back to re-read it, likely again and again. Two more of my friends and a cousin bought a copy this week. I recommended it to another two or three who will be getting it soon. Sharing grace that was so lovingly shared with me.

156.Prayers lifted with childlike hands for His precious three-letter, thousand-gifts Ann
157. Studying in PJs
158. The doctors working on Bowen's heart
159. The finding of a friend after a 25-year search
160. Bowen's precious little heart beats strong
161. Becoming a great-aunt today
162. A message, that leads to a conviction, that spurs a plan of action, for simplifying materially
163. Dance competition checklists and growing excitement
164. A day of peace, a peaceful life
165. Tonight, after nearly six years, I meet one of my best friends in person for the first time.
166. Time with the Ortas
167. Goodie bags in guest rooms
168. Goats and horses and sour oranges in mine fields
169. Sharing truth with one who really understands
170. Homemade dark chocolate cupcakes with mocha frosting, reminding me of two of my favorite bakers, Katrina and Alexandra Orta
171. Warm coffee to soothe a scratchy throat
172. Heart-shaped pizzas for beloved daughters after dance class
173. Hour-long phone conversations with beloved granddaughters sharing riddles, book recommendations, thoughts on God, musings about friendship, get-well wishes, and the victorious conquering of writing tests
174. The healing comfort of sinking into a giant pillow-top canopy bed
175. The blessing of a selfless husband
176. A daughter and a daddy and their dance
177. To so seldom be sick, and to know the joy of feeling His love and comfort when I am
178. Tissues with lotion, bestowed by a husband who cares that my nose is sore
179. Warm cocoa
180. Naps on his side of the bed because I miss him
181. Music peaceful as rain, playing on my blog in the background all day long
182. Herb Ciabatta baked in a cast iron skillet, warm from the oven
183. Good friend becoming Nana today
184. Hershey Kisses, gift of love from a friend
185. I can bless God. I can bless GOD! I can caress Him with thanks. I can make every moment love to Him.
186. Midnight reaches 'neath covers for that warm hand to hold to be sure of him

and one of my favorites in my journey of gratitude thus far

187. Ann's personal note today, a blessing that brought me to tears, and a lesson: if Ann's words mean so very much to me, how much more should His Word mean?

 

Eighteen

While we try to teach our children
all about life,
Our children teach us what life is all about.
~Angela Schwindt

Our youngest son is 18 today, and I've been filled with an odd mix of emotions all day. Memories gush forth from the halls of his childhood, tumbling over one another like water droplets from an Adventure Island tube slide. I must say, mothering this boy has been a delight. 

He was truly one of the most beautiful babies I've ever seen, 

 with a smile that could win the heart in an instant.

  

No one understood how a toddler could be such a mature comedian.

But he was.

 

  

He was a moody little critter,

but no matter how he might sometimes scowl, 

 

there was always a smile just 'round the bend.

And when he was little, he didn't mind so much

having that smile captured in photos.

That would not be the case for long.

He liked baseball, but wasn't enamored with it

like his older brothers had been.

Sometimes I wonder if he just played to humor the rest

of the family.

He's like that. 

 

Now, football, he LOVED.

 

 

And he loves the outdoors. A lot. 

 

By the time he was 10 or so, he wasn't so fond of the camera being pointed in his direction.

But he still tolerated it for my sake.

 

He has always adored his family. 

 

Even when he got cool. 

 

His love for weaponry started very early on,

which made gift-giving from brothers pretty easy. 

 

Chili's was his favorite restaurant,

so that's where we went on our Mama-Son date. 

 

And he just kept getting cooler and cooler. 

 

When he showed an interest in playing the bass,
I gave him my 1977 Music Man Stingray. 

 

He always studied hard and learned quickly.

 

And he turned out to be quite the natural at the bass.

 

He's always been comfortable alone.

He jokes that he just plain doesn't like people,

but we know that isn't true. 

He's just comfortable in his own company.

In the teen years, once in a while I could get him to smile for me even with the camera in my hand.

Sometimes his thinly veiled tolerance showed through
just a teeny bit,

which only made him more handsome (and like my brother).

He was not fond of his "big hair". I was.

 

Alas, the big hair was not to be. 

 

  His love for football continued into his teen years,

and he even got a chance to play a little high school football.

His sister loved cheering him on

(as did we all, but we didn't have cute uniforms).

 

Occasionally he just wasn't in the mood for pictures.

Kind of tough on a mom who is a photographer.

 

He has never liked being the center of attention,

although if anyone deserves it, he does.

One thing is for certain: he loves his little niece, Baby Belle.

 

As the youngest member of Despite Distance,

he is known as the Thunder. 

(Still thumpin' that Music Man.)

 

He is more amazing than words can describe, our Mattie.

I don't think I could ever do enough for him to show him

how much he means to me.

There aren't enough backrubs.

There aren't enough plates of chicken fettuccine Alfredo.

There aren't enough awesomely cool guns or knives

or Zippo lighters or pocket-watches.

There aren't enough hugs.

But I will never stop hugging

and trying to express how much I love him.

And how grateful I am to be his mama.

 

Time will keep marching on, but nothing will ever fade this love of a mama for her baby boy.

 

 

And he will always, always be my baby boy.