Lessons from Tumbled Stones

The stones are still there, sloped-shouldered chunks of their former grandeur lying in Olympia. Smoothed by time, water and wind, the rough edges are made plain. The elements have a way of doing a number on us as well, with repeated exposure to sun, wind and rain. 

Do we grow smooth in response -- adapt and overcome? -- or toughen and tighten our way through life?

I had the chance to visit this landscape in the 70s and again a few years ago. In 35 years, the rocks were not perceptibly changed; the country of Greece, however, was transformed from its provincial self into a cousin of its former self: it bore the marks of family resemblance but no longer showed its distinctive local identity. Cable television, I am told, was the thief in the night.

Cable and satellite TV fed the desire to have what others are having, eating and wearing. There was no turning back. The temptation to live the good life American TV shows portrayed was everywhere. Suddenly, it seemed the old ways were not enough. The old way of life had lost its value to a new generation. 

Taking in scenes above from tumbled stones in Olympia and visiting the elegant carved marble sculptures of Achilles remind me that thousands of years ago, men and women sought wisdom, pleasure, heroes and significance from a myriad of places, as we do today. The ancients did not need TV to generate their entertainment; they lived among heroes and gods. 

Just as in the story of Achilles, each of us has a place of vulnerability. We may stand strong only to fall unexpectedly when pierced in that place. Vigilance is essential. The attack may come to us dressed as temptation or as an assault by fear, reducing us to rubble.

How to protect oneself from attack in the vulnerable places requires a heightened NORAD-like awareness of us and our surroundings. I’m speaking personally, not militarily, though the NORAD emblem of wings encircling the globe with a well-placed sword centered over North America is an interesting visual that could be a graphic designer’s take on an old hymn. The point is one that scouting still teaches: Be prepared.

Be prepared.

Gird yourself.

Anticipate needs and work to meet them.

Don’t live life on autopilot.

Be fully present.

Live with gratitude for what we have, not with an eye on our deficits.

Life is not “set it and forget it.” The gift of life still calls us to respond daily, I believe, with focus on the needs of each day.

Temptations come to us in that heel of vulnerability. That which never was a temptation in one season of life can become a strong desire when we least expect it. One whose radar is down, if you will, becomes easy prey.

When we say smugly, “I don’t have a problem with that,” we just got a problem with that. Anything. Credit card debt? Infidelity? Deceit of any kind? Dishonesty? I believe that when we set ourselves up as master over anything, when we say pridefully what we would never do, take cover: We just put ourselves in a place to be tested, perhaps to experience an encounter that helps reveal our character.

It may not be apparent for a long time, but stay alert. Temptation comes to us looking alluring, appealing, not as broken and twisted, for that would be too easy to recognize. It only becomes tempting when offering something we want. Temptation has a long fuse and a long memory. It may wait until a more opportune time to return. It is an old story made new every day, but one to be faced, not feared.

 Fear is that Achilles heel for many. Fear shows up as a debilitating dread that holds some in its clutches. Fear of failing, fear of not measuring up to others' expectations, fear of intimacy--the list continues--with a paralyzing result in not fully living this life we have been given.

We were not made for a half-hearted attempt at life. There is freedom from the bondage of fear and from the destructive arrows piercing our vulnerable selves, and it comes to us through love.

I have read that the opposite of fear is not courage; it is faith. I find that faith generates courage as well.

 “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear.” I John 4:18

"No temptation has overtaken you but such as is common to man; and God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will provide the way of escape also, that you may be able to endure it." I Corinthians 10:13

The Christian has the heavenly Father’s help in resisting temptation. God is faithful.

"...But with the temptation will provide the way of escape also, that you may be able to endure it."  If temptation is common to all, it is wise to consider the way out. But the way out may be like that Bear Hunt: sometimes we have to go through it. The way through it--the various trials in our lifetimes--is the way of endurance. 

Endurance is not merely the ability to bear a hard thing, but to turn it into glory.  William Barclay 

One Hundred Years Ago Today

Parades are nothing new in this country. We've been lining up and marching to call attention to a cause or to celebrate every occasion from "Clean Up, Paint Up, Fix Up Day" in Monticello in the 60s to Homecoming, St. Paddy's Day and Easter parades. How we loved the Christmas parades with majorettes in white fur-trimmed maroon velvet uniforms and Miss Hospitality and the Farm Bureau queens waving from a convertible!

But long before those days, there was another parade on a chilly March 3. 

On this very day in 1913, thousands of spunky women who had traveled from across the country staged a major march on Washington D.C. Timed to occur on the day before the presidential inauguration of Woodrow Wilson, all eyes were on the nation's capitol. I can't help but note that the city would have been decked out with bunting and flags and grandstands already in place as these women seized the stage appropriating some perfectly good decorations for the cause--always a plus when we are resourceful with our decor budget.

Thousands stood and watched in top coats and hats as the event was both ballyhooed and heralded depending on one's point of view or gender. The New York Times' description of the opening tableau lifted the production to great heights of artistry and pageantry. We do not have tableaus anymore, do we? The photo brings to mind Mayor Shinn's wife's contribution to the festivities in the park in The Music Man set in River City, Iowa in 1912. What is a big shindig without a patriotic tableau? We still model our Olympic opening ceremonies after such a scene complete with Grecian drapes and laurel wreaths.

Then the marchers began their walk down Pennsylvania Avenue arranged in regiments by state.  Crowds of mostly men poured into the streets. History records that the men behaved badly.

They ridiculed the women with their absurd notions of voting rights and personhood under the law. Perhaps they thought their world was turning upside down with the prospect of women continuing to demand the right to vote which everyone knew could never happen or else what would become of our society? We as humans do some despicable things when threatened, or when our perceived status is threatened. We are not at our best.

Photos show the crowds pressing in on the orderly marchers until they block the street. The jeers and taunts continue. Soon the tripping, groping and physical contact get violent. Many are injured and taken away in ambulances. Others are jailed and charged, but those who vote make the rules. The progression is predictable.

The actual accounts of those who backed this cosmic shift in the American experiment should be required reading for a generation who does not even bother to cast a ballot in a presidential election. It represents nothing to them; they have no skin in the game. We have it too easy.

There is no one left who remembers this day in history.

The same will be said of everything else in our lives at one time, and we do not live to preserve our own personal history for its own sake. We are just passing through. But if we do not learn from history, we are doomed to repeat it.  And so we do.

When we glance at the photos, we can offer a pause of appreciation, a word of gratitude from the daughters 100 years later of those courageous women who risked mockery and scorn that we might be able to walk up to that voting machine in our precinct and touch the start button.

It seems so simple now, but nothing hard-won is ever simple. Or cheap. Someone always pays the price.

What we now know as the 19th Amendment took 41 years to pass after it was introduced in 1878, and the women who introduced it were white-haired after working tirelessly on what we could be tempted to see as a mere footnote in a history book: women's suffrage. Then I think of the ones who wanted to join the throng, to put their conscience above their comfort but were intimidated into silence. Do we do it still?

Is there something you and I commit our lives to with the same passion, the same zeal and commitment? Are we called to a mission larger than ourselves and our little corner of Google earth? Let us keep asking that question and seek discernment. May God grant wisdom even as God gives dreams for each season of life and the courage to stand firm in pursuit of them for the Kingdom.

It is not just the law that governs our lives as believers, but the high call of God to love others, to practice justice and to show mercy. It takes both courage and humility to live into our faithful witness as we encounter needs of others. May God grant us both.





photos found in tribute on theatlantic.com with credits to:

Related links and information

Suffrage Centennial Celebration - Events organized by the American Association of University Women

Marching For The Vote: Remembering The Woman Suffrage Parade Of 1913 - Library of Congress

Women's suffrage in the United States - Wikipedia entry

Women's Suffrage Parade of 1913 - Wikipedia entry

Lessons from a Glass Jar

One of my earliest experiences in prayer occurred fifty years ago today and includes the governor’s mansion, Miss America, and a mason jar.

February was Heart Fund month, and the race was on all over Mississippi to see who could raise the most money for the heart association. Each of the girls—first grade through high school--had a jar to collect donations.  If you grew up in a small town, you may remember the sight: mayonnaise and mason jars adorned with valentines and photos of the girls placed alongside the cash registers in the Western Auto, drug store and grocery stores – prime real estate! I was only in the third grade, but I launched my campaign to win.

 My parents would not let me put out my jar in town much to my dismay; I was left to earn money from chores and to collect spare change at the end of the day. The teacher tallied totals on the blackboard daily, and the handwriting on the wall told me I was in trouble.

As February 14 drew near, my anxiety grew. The prize was to be Queen of
the Class. The Overall Heart Fund Queen for the town received the grand prize: a trip to the
Governor’s Mansion in Jackson where all the statewide queens would gather for lunch. The rumor spread quickly that they had a solid gold bathroom.

How significant was this dream to be queen? Princess costumes still sell wildly today, but this was back in 1963. Mary Ann Mobley and Linda Lee Mead had won back-to-back Miss America as Miss Mississippi. Even as a third grader, I was impressed. To add fuel to the queenly fire, I had just been on the front page of The Daily Mississippian seated in the lap of my aunt who had been crowned Miss University. I was star struck among those glamorous girls. Surely there was a crown in my future!

On February 13, I had assessed the class totals and knew that--barring a miracle--I would not win. The night before the big day I prayed my little seven-year-old heart out, asking God to please let my daddy put a twenty dollar bill in that jar before morning. Nobody would come close to that. I knew he could do it. I believed.

I awoke the next morning with eager anticipation, and there sat my jar: no twenty. Didn’t my parents want me to win? It was within their power to make it happen. It would have been so easy, I thought.

No, I didn’t win--not even the top of my little third grade class.

 At the end of the day, however, I do remember how pleased my father was to learn that Lucy, a high school senior had won. Lucy was one of his favorite patients, an irrepressible young woman stricken with polio who moved through the halls of the school with her aluminum crutches.

When I voiced my disappointment – okay, I was seven - my father put his arms around me and hugged me close offering both comfort and wisdom I was unable to perceive then. He had a different perspective and helped me frame the disappointing experience: “Marita, you’ll have many chances to go to Jackson in your life, and you'll see the governor’s mansion; but Lucy never dreamed she’d have a day like this.”

The town of Monticello proclaimed a day for Queen Lucy with her picture on the front page of The Lawrence County Press.

I have reflected on what I saw as unanswered prayer and learned a lesson from that little heart fund jar. Sometimes our prayers are like my childhood prayer:  “God, you can do this! It is not too hard for you.”

In some ways we still ask for the thing we think would put us over the top. It may not be “please put a twenty in the heart fund jar”, but fill in the blank for our own personal crisis. We tell God precisely how to fix a person or situation. And just like my lesson 50 years ago, we still don’t get what we ask for.

Does that mean we didn’t ask with the correct incantation to make our prayer acceptable to God? Perhaps proper verbal tweaking likely was not and is not the missing link. Sometimes what we desire just does not come to pass.   Prayer is one of life’s mysteries.

 From my limited point of view, the answer looked easy; but my parents had a different perspective--a bigger picture in mind--and the quick fix I wanted was not the best for me.

When we are in the midst of true disappointment now as adults, facing times of real anxiety, we implore God through prayer. We give thanks for what we call answered prayer when what we seek comes to pass, but the place of anguish is when we do not get what we want. We may not see a way out barring a miracle, so we ask God in the only way we know how: pouring our hearts out earnestly and sometimes begging for the solution we seek. God is big enough to take it all and sift it lovingly. Our God remains steadfast to meet our deepest needs, though help may come in times and ways we cannot anticipate. Yet, God is trustworthy.

And my father was right, as always.

Several parents who heard this story recently said indignantly, “I can’t believe your parents did not let you win! What was wrong with them?” I think that is another difference in parenting in the sixties and today, but that is another topic.

We have taught our children what might be dubbed the gospel according to the Rolling Stones:
“You can’t always get what you want….but you get what you need.”  Put another way, “And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work.” 2 Corinthians 9:8

We Can't Stop This...

The door opened, and it was as though the curtain parted.

I thought she might be the one, but there was whisper of doubt.

I had not actually met her, you understand; I had only been one of thousands who had prayed for her over a long period of time when she was hanging precariously between life and death. Life lived from a distance creates that cushion that sometimes prevents our bridging a four-year gap. But still....there was an unsettling familiarity when she walked into the store where I worked today.

Something in the way she moves...

I am drawing closer, inexplicably. I step into her space and ask gently, Are you Nicole?

This healthy brunette with deep brown eyes speaks back to me, Yes. Her strong body today stands juxtaposed to the fragile one I had imagined during Nicole Marquez's journey back to the land of the living. Flashbacks to her mother's faithful entries flooded my memory as I remembered Susan Marquez's story of her daughter's most difficult performance yet on the stage of  New York Presbyterian Hospital.

Day after day. Week after grueling week. Then month after month... We have no idea what it was like to live it; I only observed from a distance, never as her parents.

I am especially mindful of similar struggles as we enter into the waiting, suffering and praying with others who are recovering from brain surgery and fighting back cancer among our close friends. To have compassion is to enter into suffering, and nothing parts the curtains like prayer. Prayer exposes suffering. 

Once exposed and made aware, we have a choice to make: Do we have empathy enough to take on another's burdens,  or do we merely stay informed about their status? Is it all about our convenience or about the others' needs? Compassion enables us to experience a portion of the shared burden when we willingly embrace the journey with another. Compassion is a mystery in the making.

I only wrote. I commented. I prayed. I hugged Larry. But I never met Nicole. I was merely a bystander, one of the masses, and I'm not proud of that as I realize that Nicole is standing with me today.

But there she is before me, and I know: I am in the presence of a miracle! A walking, dancing, speaking miracle of determination, guts and Grace of God.

My children know that I've always wanted to be a dancer. But today the real dancer entered stage right and let me rejoice in her spectacular role in this chapter of Nicole's life. It may not be the life she thought she prepared for, but it is the life she is fully prepared to live. Nicole is still bearing witness to the truth of her original rallying cry: You can't stop this dancer!

The day ends with thanksgiving for healing mercies for Nicole and for others among us for whom we pray faithfully. Let us not be too busy to share what we have, for the Lord God will multiply whatever we offer making it sufficient. I believe it. Our limited resources--time, money, talent--invested in God's economy produce an incalculable yield. There's no stopping it!

Thanks be to God.

Dawn

In the morning, O LORD, you hear my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait in expectation. Psalm 5:3

Each day brings a dawn, a fresh start.

A new opportunity to do something differently, to appreciate someone more than the day before.

To set our feet upon solid ground.

To get up on the right side of the bed.

Don't let me miss it, I pray.

Isaiah 50:4
The Sovereign LORD has given me an instructed tongue, to know the word that sustains the weary. He wakens me morning by morning, wakens my ear to listen like one being taught.

Psalm 88:13
But I cry to you for help, O LORD; in the morning my prayer comes before you.

Twinkies and Pringles and Stuff that Lasts

There is a widely circulated tale that the shelf life of a Twinkie is infinity because of all the additives and preservatives it contains.

"This urban legend is false, although Twinkies can last a relatively long time (25 days or more) because they are made without unstabilized dairy products and thus spoil more slowly than most bakery items. In reality Twinkies are on the shelf for a short time, a company executive told the New York Times in 2000 that the "Twinkie is on the shelf no more than 7 to 10 days," Wikipedia reports.

Now the iconic Twinkie is in the news again with Hostess' business reorganization, and its future may be in jeopardy. Can it survive the present economy?

Likewise, I have it on reliable authority that Pringles chips will float on the water when tossed from a canoe and not become soggy and sink, waterlogged. Ever. Or almost forever.

What is in this stuff?

We are shaped by what goes inside us as well as what covers us.

FEED on things of substance.

NURTURE one another in that which will sustain life and offer food for the journey.
A junk food diet will play out when real life hits, and we will not have the essentials needed for coping with all that life is sure to present to us.

COVER with prayer our own frailties as we seek wisdom and the courage to change where needed.

CHOOSE TO LOVE as a way of life.

Above all, keep loving one another earnestly, since love covers a multitude of sins. ~ I Peter 4:8

A Way With Words

Our mind is a garden, our thoughts are the seeds
The harvest can be either flowers or weeds.
~ Author unknown


Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.
~ Philippians 4:8

I am beginning a new study this week for young moms in our group focusing on the words we use and harnessing the power we possess in our speech. Harnessing, not stifling. As in:

Now if we put the horses' bridles into their mouths, that they may obey us, we turn about their whole body also.
~James 3:3

Never doubt that something as simple as talking can have such lasting effects in the lives of others. As we habitually speak words that heal, teach, affirm, instruct, guide and delight, we learn to make conscious choices about our words which then become a natural outpouring of what is in our hearts. Likewise, words of condemnation, of name-calling, labeling and blaming wound the heart and linger in the mind long after they are spoken.

Our challenge is to learn something new about how we take appropriate responsibility for this dynamic and grow in faithfulness as we mature. We want to reduce the collateral damage from our speech and live life with fewer regrets. This is one small topic but large area of life that meets us daily where we live.

It's all about choices. Let us take responsibility for our choices and not be content with the childish, "That's just the way I am" excuse.



All photos copyright by Rob Kiser, used with permission.

Living Into Our Vows

I am part of the fellowship of the unashamed. I have Holy Spirit Power. The die has been cast. I have stepped over the line. The decision has been made. I am a disciple of Jesus. I will not look back, let up, slow down, back away or be still.

My past is redeemed. My present makes sense. My future is secure. I am finished and done with low living, sight-walking, small planning, smooth knees, colorless dreams, tamed visions, worldly talking, cheap giving, and dwarfed goals.

I no longer need preeminence, prosperity, position, promotion, or popularity. I do not have to be right, first, recognized, regarded, or rewarded. I now live by faith, lean on God’s presence, walk with patience, am uplifted by prayer, and labor by power.

My face is set, my gait is fast, my goal is Heaven.

My road is narrow, my way rough, my Guide reliable, my mission clear. I cannot be bought, compromised, detoured, lured away, turned back, deluded, or delayed. I will not give up or let up. I will go on until Christ comes, and work until Christ stops me.

I am a disciple of Jesus.



(Offered as the Zimbabwe Confession and attributed to an unnamed man whose faith was tested to the point of death.)

Photos: La Sagrada Familia Barcelona

Night Musings Birthday

September marks the anniversary of my entry into the blog world with Meditations in the Night Watch. Thank you for your encouraging words along the way. I am thankful for each of you!

September is a month of beginnings and endings, of the old and new. Caught somewhere between summer and not-yet-autumn, September is God's pause for reflection, a half-rest in the annual score. It is a time when being pensive is not only permissible but so healthy for our journey into the approaching days of fall and winter. Perhaps you, too, share a wistful acceptance of September, understanding that 'new beginnings often start with a small tear'.

The annual excitement over each school year, new school supplies, and Friday Night Lights in Mississippi used to make September vibrate in my memory. Now in September's wake I see hollow backpacks, forlorn bicycles, and empty beds in our home. As an eleven year old Russell said, "It's all about moving on in life."

So, with my mother's admonition and reminder, I choose to see those empty backpacks and such as but more of the stuff of life that gets left behind when we learn to move on. It doesn't diminish their value or place in our family memories, but it helps us focus on the NEW THING that is coming. Embrace the next chapter, I know to tell myself. Rejoice in the new marriages and relationships that hold a new future for us. Give thanks in all things.

And so I move on with joy and thanksgiving for the day that is today. No time for wasted thinking or whining about aging. Seize this day and pack it full with gratitude! There is yet so much for which to be thankful.

We are surrounded by new beginnings each day!

In our end is our beginning; In our time, infinity, in our doubt there is believing; in our life, eternity. In our death, a resurrection; at the last, a victory. unrevealed until its season, Something God alone can see.

~Hymn of Promise, by Natalie Sleeth

(portion reposted from September 2010)

Dancing in the Field

Gratitude is contagious.

Like a benevolent airborne pathogen, it spreads from one person to another, changing hearts and filling empty spaces. I continue to discover its capacity to change our attitudes and re-frame our circumstances.

Gratitude is a sleeper in our culture. We do not know its power.

Practicing the art of noticing--the first step in learning to give thanks in all things--can be tough for busy folks in the fast lane.

Look others in the eye.

Listen.

Be fully present in the moment.

Take a moment to give thanks.

Shared experiences of gratitude fuel one person's day and then overflow into the lives of others. Such was the case with Kelly's beautiful call to savor the moment published this week. I have heard from so many of you about the impact of her words in your lives.

Hear this snippet from a wise and busy mother who, after reading Kelly's post, shared her moment with me:

It completely changed my attitude as I lived the day. And, because of that shift, [my little boy] and I shared a very special moment - one that I NEVER want to forget. It was something that he said to me - AND I STOPPED being busy and I LISTENED!! He said - "Mommy, watch me dance!"

And, I did and then we danced together!

Isn't that what we tell our children - dance! And then when they do, we are too busy to dance with them!?!

I say wise, because she knows all too well that the days of dancing in the field are numbered.
She will never regret taking a moment to make a memory.

I had the chance to make a memory with my grown girls this summer, and we still find delight in playful antics. One is pictured above dancing in a dreamy children's garden on the stepping stones etched, "Merrily...merrily...merrily...merrily...Life...is...but...a...dream."

Offering bright moments in someone's life need not be expensive or time-consuming. Giving thanks for a simple act fits in any budget. And noticing is the first step.

I believe as we live lives of gratitude, we will live with fewer regrets. It's just a hunch, mind you, but I'm willing to bet the farm on it.

Go make a moment or find one somewhere today, and pass it on. Catch a good case of gratitude!

Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good, for his steadfast love endures forever. Psalm 136:1 ESV

I do not cease to give thanks for you, remembering you in my prayers. Ephesians 1:16 ESV

And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful. Colossians 3:15 ESV

What Make Us Happy?

Life's interruptions give us the opportunity to press the reset button. We can draw courage and inspiration from others who experience setbacks and refuse to let it destroy their spirits.

Today's night musing is a treat from a young friend who has just returned from Johns Hopkins after summer brain surgery with a very good prognosis and an inspiring outlook beautifully expressed in her words below. With her permission, I'm delighted to share her words with you. She was pursuing her doctorate in English when her plans were interrupted. I'm thinking there is some writing in her future still!

I love the way she puts it! We may say we believe that we don't find happiness in our external circumstances, but we reveal our true selves when we keep living frantic lives desperately seeking after an elusive happiness somewhere else. I hope her words lift your spirits too! Have a beautiful day!

~Marita

Another Midnight Ramble

So many people on the highway just go too fast.

And so many people also speed through life too fast. Or at least that is true of me.

Having brain surgery certainly forced me to slow down and live more in the moment.

I’m still a very active and motivated person. That has not changed. I even started a new job this past Monday! Simon and I are having so much fun caring for and playing with another little boy a little younger than Simon. They are becoming good friends already.

When I was strolling these sweet boys around the neighborhood the other day, I ignored the heat and humidity and thought about times in my life when I have spent so much time racing around, being too busy, thinking about the next item to check off my to-do list, and I have not stopped to be in the moment or really think about whether my actions were making me happy.

You see, I had a bad habit.

I would tell myself lies.

I will be happy when I buy this outfit.

I will be happy when I graduate from college.

I will be happy when I get married.

I will be happy when I have a baby.

I will be happy when I find my ideal job.

I will be happy when I make a certain amount of money.

And I found myself doing it this summer, too.

I will be happy when the brain tumor is out.

I will be happy when I am finally home.

Hmm, not cured.

There is a problem with this kind of thinking. If happiness is entirely based on the exterior circumstances of my life, then I probably won’t find lasting happiness.

Now, I should say that my life keeps getting better the older I get (Turning 30 next month suddenly doesn't seem quite so scary after my recent experiences). I am so happy as a wife and as a mother. But my lasting happiness shouldn’t depend entirely on two people. And what a hard burden to place on those two people I love so dearly!

So I started to think about some things that make me happy in the moment. Here’s what I came up with off the top of my head:

Being helpful to others

Breathing the salty air at the beach

Feeling the sea breeze on my face

Swimming laps at the pool

Sipping iced tea on a screen porch

Picking apples at an orchard

Cuddling under warm quilts with my husband and son

Walking around neighborhoods full of historic homes

Getting absorbed in a novel

Reading stories to enthusiastic children

Eating chocolate chip cookies fresh out of the oven with cold milk

Going on dates with my husband

Talking around a campfire

Waking up in a tent to the sound of birds

Listening to Simon laugh

Visiting new places and trying new things

Wearing clean pajamas

Eating lazy pancake breakfasts

Watermelon

Taking hot showers

Washing dishes after a dinner party with friends

Browsing used bookstores and libraries

Finding treasures at yard sales or consignment sales

Drinking hot tea

Holding human babies (and animal babies)

Visiting farms

Singing anything from hymns to silly songs

Being a passenger on a country drive

Pulling on warm socks in winter

Riding on trains

Contemplating Italian Renaissance paintings

Experiencing new children’s museums, zoos, and aquariums (and old favorites)

Opening a new box of crayons

Listening to Simon talk

Camping in the mountains

Putting words on paper

Making plans

Wandering farmer’s markets and natural grocery stores

Watching Simon play with wooden toys that will last for his children

Receiving letters in the mail

Being awake in the early morning before anyone else is up

Decorating real Christmas trees

Carving pumpkins

Cooking for my family

Sewing practical things made from beautiful fabric

Listening to street musicians

Capturing my family's life on film

Eating picnics by the water

Lying on a blanket, looking up at the trees

Drinking fresh orange juice

Many of these are very accessible joys, but sometimes I am moving so fast that I forget to be in the moment and truly appreciate them.

This past week has been a bit stressful. We received the extraordinary gift of movers to help us move to help minimize our stress. And yet, lots of various things have gone awry. The moving van didn’t fit all of our belongings. The moving van wouldn’t go into our driveway. The renters didn’t leave our house in pristine condition. The air conditioning needed multiple repairs. The bookshelf wouldn’t go where I wanted it to. We couldn’t find our modem. The foundation still needs repairs. We have multiple stacks of bills that need to be paid and letters that need to be answered, and I don’t know where all the stacks are anymore. There are boxes everywhere. I still owe a lot of people thank-you notes, and I am not even sure that my list is complete. I am not sure that I know where my stamps are. My old computer with lots of important files on it didn’t survive the move. The windshield on my car is cracked, and the rearview mirror fell off. There is a mouse living in the wall.

I could go on.

But I won’t.

My physical and emotional endurance are still slightly lower than my pre-surgery self, although they are greatly improving every day. I have had so many insights about my life these past months, but that doesn’t mean that I always act on them. I am a normal person. Sometimes stressful things are overwhelming to me, even when I put them in the perspective of having had brain surgery several weeks ago.

Every once in a while, I just feel tired, and I want to crawl into a hole.

Most of the time, I keep calm and carry on.

It is true that I do feel so much happier now that we are finally home and I am able to be increasingly independent and active. I am happy to be working and spending time with Simon and settling in and reconnecting with lots of people.

That’s not the point, though. The point is that I need to savor each day, regardless of what that day brings. I need to live more in each moment.

Even on the day of my brain surgery, there were joys to be savored. Laughing along with an incredibly kind and funny nurse who put all the nervous patients in the pre-op room at ease. Waking up and being able to see. Soothing my throat with a popsicle.

That is one of the great wonders of spending time with very young children, watching them experiencing joy in the present moment, without much thought for the past or the future.

For the record, I have experienced at least 19 of the joys on my list already this week, and it is only Wednesday. I must be doing something right!

In the meantime, I have stayed up way past my bedtime, and none of this makes any logical sense in my head anymore. We had a very productive evening after Simon went to bed, and now the majority of the rooms in our house are liveable, organized, and lovely. So now it is time to sleep.

(Photo a delightful sight of mine: farmland in the Amish country of Pennsylvania)