In my first post I mentioned having had some false starts, and a good one that knocked me on my rear. Below you will find those efforts. One, because I still believe they are words that need to be "out there." Two, because the third one is what I wrote just before things went BAD. Not everything, just things the post referred to, as in my washer and dryer- the same ones I celebrated in my post- they DIED. As in we couldn't even plug them in to try, they just completely ceased to work, and I spent the next six months being tested on how much I really cherish that chore by being required to lug EVERY. SINGLE. LOAD. next door and upstairs to the washer and dryer in our old apartment over the church. Thank GOD they were still there! That being said, I confess that this was sufficient to completely freak me out over celebrating anything else in a post, less it be attacked too. Nearly two and a half years later and I give. I GIVE. Forgive me for letting my fear over come my calling. GOD told me to write, who am I to shy away from that? So here they are, my first attempts. And if for some reason, after these post, you don't hear from me for awhile- say a little prayer for me, then grab me by the scruff of my neck and remind me- WRITE!
Write. Simple instructions with such a wave of, something, behind them. Write what? I could come up with pretty words if I tried hard enough, but is that really what needs to be shared? The implication in this feeling I have is that there is something deep inside of me that needs to be shared because only I can share it.
Which means it won’t be easy.
Which means I will have to dig deep and bare a part of myself that perhaps I don’t even realize is hidden.
So what is that? What is in me that I’ve been so afraid to let out that I don’t even acknowledge that it’s there? First word that pops into my head?
FEAR Fear of what? First reaction again?
FAILURE That cloud of WHAT IF that hangs over so many, perhaps all of us, if we are being honest. What if I can’t? What if I do it wrong? What if it doesn’t matter? What if it doesn’t work? What if I look silly? What if no one cares? The list could go on forever, but here’s a new one to consider- What if I don’t? What if I ignore the burning in my heart and just go on with things like normal, pretend I never heard a thing? Maybe the world would never notice. Maybe it really wouldn’t matter. But here’s what I know to be true- in MY world, it matters. I would know if I didn’t, I would notice. And sometimes, isn’t that enough?
So I sit here and write. I let the words pour out of me of their own accord. I do not worry about grammar or punctuation (sorry). I do not worry about what others will think. I simply write, and discover along with you what is hidden deep inside of me that needs to be shared. Because WHAT IF it does matter?
2. Good Morning
Watching my family come alive in the morning is nothing short of amazing. Who are these tiny people who have brought such immense joy into our lives? It’s hard to wrap my head around the idea that without us, they would not be. Right before us we have tangible, beautiful results of our love. Our love~ MY love! I’m still reveling in THAT answered prayer! He is so beautiful in the morning, sleepy eyes, rumpled hair, skin still warm from being wrapped tight in our covers. That first hug, our silent “Good Morning,” oh it’s the best. Realizing anew each day that I get to share my life with him- who am I to be so blessed? Has it really been an entire decade since our story began? It must be true since it is becoming more and more impossible to remember life without him. What a joy it has been to spend these years making one life out of our two. It hasn’t always been easy, I haven’t always walked in the joy that is so preciously laid out before me. I have gotten busy, distracted by the day to day process of living and become blind to the beautiful reasons that have given me cause to be so busy in the first place. Self has crept in at times and convinced me that life should be about what I want, that I MUST look after my own needs first, so I am able to care for those of others. The Truth speaks differently. The Truth whispers of Christ, who laid himself down that we might all be lifted up. The Truth reminds me softly of how empty life would be without those who have endless needs to be met. The Truth wraps its gentle arms about me and says “I thought of you first so you don’t have to. I gave you this job to bless you. Take joy in caring for those you’ve been given and remember that there are those who would give anything to be in your place. Let Me care for you as you care for them and you’ll find that all your needs are met abundantly. Serve Me in serving them and there you will find your peace.” Ah peace- yes, there it is, in the still sleepy eyes of my family, my most brilliant gifts from the Father in heaven who loves me, his Son who walked this path himself to show me the way, and his Spirit who walks with me and guides me daily. Good Morning :)
I love fresh laundry. There's something about pulling warm, clean clothes from the dryer, all fresh and new again. It's a chore I never minded too much- though I admit I should have done it more often when I was younger! It's extra special now though because it's not just my own I'm doing. It's my husbands, still carrying a hint of his smell and reminding me of how nice his shirt felt when stretched over his strong, warm back. It's my older sons- can these pants that look so big really belong to him- the tiny little man who stretched my belly so and was the first person to ever call me "Mama?" It's my daughters, all frilly and pink, hopefully no longer bearing traces of the dirt she manages to find in the cleanest of places- my tiny little tom-girl/princess. It's my baby boys, so much of it from our small-but getting bigger every moment little man. I still remember doing his first load- feeling almost silly for it because his arrival was still long months away. And then I was so glad I had done it when I spent weeks on the couch, trying to keep him safe and cocooned in my womb just a bit longer. That was a tough time. I had so many wonderful offers of help- and many were accepted, but I just couldn't bear to turn my laundry over to another. It's an act of love to my family. I think of them as I smooth the warm crinkles away and wonder what they'll being doing the next time they wear each item. I remember, moments seemingly woven into the faded fabrics. His band t-shirt from the cafe' where we first met- how thrilled I was the first time it was my responsibility to get it clean! The shirt I wore in Mexico on our baby-moon/anniversary trip when our tiny little girl was already a gentle swell of my abdomen. My favorite little sleeper, worn by my son, then my daughter, now by my second son- so quickly becoming too small. It will be bitter sweet to pack it away- who will wear it next? This chore, so all consuming, never ending- bearing witness to the places we've gone and the things we've done each day. Neat, clean piles, waiting for another adventure, or maybe just another day of beautiful ordinary.