Working the Night Shift

"ғaiтнleѕѕ iѕ нe тнaт ѕayѕ ғarewell wнen тнe road darĸenѕ." J. R. R. Tolkien

Tolkien and his contemporary, C. S. Lewis, brilliantly used the ancient means of story to transport truth to children and adults alike. They infused their works with images and narratives that blend reason and the vivid imagination for which each is known, conferring on their characters the power to communicate ideas of faith. In looking at the world around them they sought flashes of insight into what they saw as the fundamental nature of things.

Fundamental. What is fundamental anymore?

Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness are among the unalienable rights mentioned in the Declaration of Independence.  We seem to have elevated achieving perpetual happiness to the gold medal position on the podium. Many strive to maintain the illusion of happiness and success, as though any alternative is tantamount to failure.

We may coast through some days in life, but sooner or later we are put on the night shift.  The night shift--that season when life presents what we never dreamed would happen or that which we feared to face.

Our days and nights are not our own anymore on the night shift. They’ve been usurped, taken captive by that new thing, that no longer mythical monster that holds us in its grip. Cancer does it for some. Any sudden interruption of our lives will do this.

Crises have a way of reordering our priorities. They reveal our character. They give us the chance to step up to the podium and present ourselves authentically as wounded but walking, as pierced but persevering. We may choose to be honest and press on, accepting this new life experience as an opportunity to grow—to grow in ways we would rather not but find we must. But we need help, companions on the journey.

"O Lord, do not be far from me," the psalmist says.

There is so much about sickness and pain we do not understand. C. S. Lewis wrote from his deep loss about suffering and its value. Some would dismiss the refining fire of suffering as pure myth, but not Lewis. The witness of many is that we experience redeeming grace during what I call the night shift.

We may never understand suffering; I can accept that as a limitation of our human condition. But there are some things we can know as bedrock:
That God is always good.
That God is always loving.

May I dare say that suffering is one of those things that is transformative when we encounter it: We are changed in it. Fundamentally. I have come to believe it, but do I have the guts to write it here, in this place where I am sitting up writing in the night watch feeling healthy while some of our friends or family members are in the fight of their lives? How dare I say such without sounding glib and utterly insensitive?

Because I have seen it done. Writers give us examples to point to a truth until we may accept it for ourselves; Real life examples shine brightly for me.

I have seen the example up close when a friend chose to allow God to move in her life in the presence of intense suffering and pain. She gave us glimpses of grace, pictures of what suffering looks like over a period of years.  She remained full of grace and faithfulness because she refused to give into bitterness. She denied a place for the bitter seed to take root every time it raised its persistent tendril. I want to face adversity like that!

For the faithful, that's what we do: 

We carry the Light when the road gets dark. 

We hold the lantern for one another.  

We learn to walk faithfully the path we have even when we would rather take another road of our own choosing.

In prayer we can freely offer the desires of our heart and then trust in God's provision. The trusting part can be hardest. It is the task of a lifetime. And it is not the American way of self-sufficiency and prideful independence. But when we understand another bedrock truth—that God is always trustworthy—we can rest in the care of the One who created us and loves us and will never let us go.  

Offer God our pain and broken dreams when the road is dark. Pain only festers when buried and denied.

Offer suffering so that it is shared, and then we can learn how to bear it. “Pain that is not transformed is pain transferred,” writes Fr. Richard Rohr. We pass it on.

Pursuing happiness for itself is ephemeral, not fundamental. The love of God is deep and wide, reaching to times and places we do not see and holding us fast in the embrace.

What We Need When Life is a Blurr

 Sometimes we move through life on autopilot seeing only what we expect to see. Then something holds our gaze long enough for our brains to tune in to the moment. Part of living fully in the present is to be more aware of our surroundings and grateful for unacknowledged gifts. I find that such an attentiveness helps me daily.

But I do not always do it well...

 

Was that you, Lord, in the lady with the purple coat?


She wore purple with a red cap shielding her from the rain. Robed in purple, topped with crimson: a royal image, I recalled.

She hobbled clutching her cane in her right hand, pushing a three-wheeled cart with her left, wobbling upright with each step, with her bag swinging as a pendulum from the elbow. She looked right at home leaving the bus station or making her way through an airport terminal but not here—not in my part of town. I waited at the light as she crossed.

We say we are mindful of your Presence among us, Lord, but are we really? We usually see what we expect to see while on our way to work on a busy morning.  Predictable routines leave little time for unexpected sightings of glory.

Then again, you show up at unexpected places. I heard myself ask aloud to no one present, “Was that you, Lord?”

She caught my eye, but did I stop to see if I could help? No. She was a stranger, and I was on my way to somewhere else.

Aren't we always on the way to somewhere else when you break through our day and beckon for our attention? We need you to make it clear, Lord, if we are to step aside and see a great sight. I have this rule, you see, a rule that I do not pick up strangers. I'm afraid of taking them into my car for some perfectly good reasons you would understand. But sometimes we need to set aside our closely-held rules, else we just go on about our business, living by our own rules--kind of like I just did today when I saw her brown skin glistening wet from the morning rain on her purple coat.

This mental conversation filled the space of a glimpse, just the time it takes for the light to glow red then green. But a glimpse is all we have sometimes, is it not?

 Just a brush with glory. 

A brief visitation. 

A few seconds should be enough when we walk closely enough with you to recognize when you have a task for us to relieve suffering, to lighten another's load. But we can be so encumbered with our own cares as I was this morning that we cannot see another's.

We may miss the message.

We may not see you when you show up at times and places we are not expecting.

And I was strongly impressed with the reminder to look for you in the faces of the hurting, the aged, the lonely, the foreigner among us. The glimpse turned me inside out. My little morning sadness about other concerns vanished in a breath--the breath that I took in as I asked aloud, “Was that you, Lord?"

You give us our next breath, and you take it away. You take it away with beauty, nature and music, and you take it away with pain. And in that split second when we inhale silently and take in the sight before us, you remind us you are present. God with us.

So, yes, perhaps that was you, Lord, not transfigured at all but mysteriously present in the realigning of my thoughts and the shuffling of my priorities so that I might see more fully those around me.

Later my friend told me of an auto accident near the highway. An ambulance’s blue lights held waiting cars at bay while an upturned cart sat spinning silently at the edge of the road. I wondered if I had seen her earlier, but I was on my way to somewhere else.

On the way to somewhere else: that’s where much of life happens.

 Lord, speak to our hearts. Interrupt our days of ordinary sights and sounds so that we do not miss an opportunity to serve.

To you O Lord, I lift my soul. Show me your paths and teach me to follow;

guide me by your truth and instruct me.

Psalm 25: 1, 4

31 Things Barbie Never Knew

Barbie's debut in 1959 is a distant galaxy away from 2013. I'm told little girls--straddling two centuries--still want Barbie cakes and pink boas and princess dresses along with their smart phones.  And when they grow up, our culture tells us they want a killer wardrobe and a red convertible with or without Ken or a suitable substitute. With all due respect to Mattel and its marketing genius, our girls will learn that life is no fairy tale to be lived in the confines of a pink vinyl Dream House. Life is too big for that. Real Life out of the Barbie box calls for a breadth skills that Barbie never needed and a depth of spiritual maturity to sustain us through the collapse of dreams and rebuilding of new ones.

This world's goods aren't enough.

Fashion falls short.

The blister pack of outfits with matching plastic pumps pales in comparison to the resources needed to face life outside the Dream House. It would take Skipper and Midge and Scooter and the whole crew to create a community of women and men to address life skills 101. We can help equip our daughters today with knowledge far better than a wish for Happily Ever After. 

  "31 things to teach your daughter" has been circulating with unnamed authors. I saw a compilation and made some changes tonight as I considered it. This is not comprehensive, but rather a starting place for a conversation for our girls...our nieces...our daughters. It is in stream-of-consciousness format: alternatively addressed to and about the girls of a coming generation.

[I've already lived through the 60's and '70s once, so please give a little grace for addressing boys and girls separately. I have learned that's it's actually ok....political correctness aside. Anyone reading this is likely inclined to be generous and not critical anyway. Thanks.]

1. Learn how to give a firm handshake. Teach girls to initiate a handshake confidently. Teach boys too.

2. Look people in the eye when you talk with them. Learn to express yourself well. 

3. Show respect for yourself and act in a way that is worthy of respect. This includes the way you dress and speak. Yes, it sounds old fashioned, like something out of the '50s. I make no apologies. Some things are just timeless.

4. Make new friends and keep the old. Plastic shoes are disposable; people are not. We need one another.
 
5. Pay attention to how guys treat their moms, and stay clear of the ones who are not respectful. Don't kid yourself: You are not likely to be the exception.

6. Don't turn red flags pink. When you see a red flag in a relationship, don't tell yourself that it's really no big deal; it is. You can't make it fade or disappear. It is there as a warning.


7. Know how to change a tire, throw a football, drive a stick shift, and use a drill.

8. Have your own tool kit and know how to use it.

9. Don’t be afraid to use your voice – sometimes it’s the most powerful tool you have.

10. Know basic self defense – be able to get out of a situation, and run fast. And use that powerful voice.

11. Teach them how to apologize well; it will be necessary often. Model it for best results. The word "Sorry" is not an apology. And practice accepting an apology. Forgiveness is not easy, and it is not optional. 

12. Images published in magazines and online are photoshopped. They are altered reality. Anyone can manipulate brush strokes to have flawless skin or look skinny. Confidence and optimism are more attractive than a size on a label. And joy that comes from within beats a fake smile any day.

13. Laugh often, but not at others' expense. Laughter can diffuse a challenging situation, especially when you can laugh at yourself.

14. Block out the toxic voices that tell you you are not worth loving. You are beloved of the Father and a precious child of God. Not every opinion is worth listening to; Listen to the ones that matter, and learn whose opinion you will allow to shape your thoughts.

15. Advertisers spend millions to get into your head and wallet, and they are exceedingly good at it. Don't buy everything they are selling. And don't buy what you do not need.

16. Life is full of mountains and valleys. Not all mountains can be moved no matter how much we try. We learn--like that childhood Bear Hunt--sometimes we have to go through it. Or around it. To get to the other side. Practice courage and perseverance. Both are needed.

17. Write a proper handwritten thank you letter. Texting is no substitute. Add to this basic table manners. Manners is shorthand for many behaviors taught in Barbie's day and encompasses a way of living in community with courtesy for others. Showing concern for the other person is in short supply today. Please. Thank you. Excuse me. Do not interrupt grownups. Boys and girls who have good manners are welcome most anywhere, I remember learning. Manners have gotten caught in the crossfire of our culture, and our lack of civility and boorish rudeness bears witness to their demise. 

18. How to manage her money.

19. Nobody has it all. Don't fall for that one either.

20. How to handle herself online – using effective privacy settings, remembering that anything shared is already out of her hands, and knowing that people online aren’t always who they say they are. This is a minefield in her future.


21. Be slow to anger. 

22. Love fiercely.

23. Dream big, and set realistic goals. You can accomplish far more than you think you can.

24. Develop your strengths and talents. Know your personal limits and weaknesses as well. Once you identify them you can use them as a platform for action in your life and a landing place to rebuild.

25. Most things worth having or worth doing require sacrifice. Count the cost. Everything has a price.

26. Try to live with few regrets.

27. Just because it’s never been done doesn’t mean it can’t be done. Push the limits. Try. Try again. That's not trite; its called perseverance, and it's hard. You can do hard things.

28. Learn basic sewing skills. Everyone needs to know how to sew on a button and mend a hem. Just another form of a toolbox--with a string.

29. Trust your instincts. If it feels wrong, it probably is. Listen to that prompting, and don’t silence it.

30. Life comes unraveled when we least expect it. Sometimes we mend and help another; sometimes we need mending. Know where to go and how to ask for help. In my faith experience, there is a Healer who mends our broken places; God sometimes cures in the mending, but always  provides a way through life's unraveling times, moving toward ultimate healing.

31. There is more to this world than meets the eye. Pursue things that last. Develop an eternal perspective.



Thanks to Sally for beautiful Barbie cake. ;-)

Doorways of Hope

Jehovah Jireh: God provides. How we long to fling open doorways of hope and see the fulfillment of our deep longings on our time frame! Life does not always unfold as we wish, and we will face indecision and stop in our tracks, in our weakness; but we have a sure companion in the person of the Spirit as we approach closed doors and open windows. 
  
There are times when we do not know what to do....or even what to pray. We may feel the answer is locked behind a door and we have no key. 

It is then that we should toss the script.

Stop our habitual, circuitous methods of trying to make it happen our way.

Throw away the tired prayers for our will be done--because if we are being honest, we usually have a plan in our back pocket and are ready to tell God just how to make it come about--and come to the place of saying I just don't know what to do. I thought I knew but I don't anymore.

When the illusion of what-we-once-thought falls away, we have the chance to get good purchase on a clean foundation and establish our footing. We get grounded in a new beginning. And the Spirit helps us in our weakness because we've come clean that we're not in charge anymore. We can be entirely honest that we don't have to have the answers.

We give thanks that the Spirit intercedes for us with more-than-words. More-than-words--those groanings that surpass the limits of our language when we suffer through anxious searching.

And we practice giving thanks.

We don't wait until the anxious hour is over to give thanks, but we thank God already in the midst of turmoil for what God is doing in our lives for our good and for his glory. And even in the writing of it, I wonder: is this really possible? But I have seen it done. It may be hard, yes. But impossible? No. 

And yet, it is precisely in the giving thanks that we remember God is Present. 

I have been living with a fresh awareness of this truth for over two years, especially after Ann Voskamp's book, One Thousand Gifts.

It is in drawing closer to God's Presence that we know the truth of the promises that God will never leave us nor forsake us. That we are known and loved...and that it is enough. More than enough.

So when we pray at the invitation of others who seek guidance and when we need direction ourselves, we can lay aside the heavy burden that we need to generate the answer from our own skills bank. Accept the gift of the Spirit who intercedes for us.

Jehovah Jireh: God provides.

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.

No reason ever to be bored...

Dream Big Dreams

Have you ever had an idea to do something that was so implausible and success was so unlikely that the seed of the dream withered before you allowed its tendril of a root to burrow into the soil of your life? We have a way of suffocating God-size dreams, of snuffing out the life they might offer us because of our fears and insecurities. I met a man yesterday who is living into a dream bigger than he ever imagined. His example inspires and encourages me, and I must share his story.

A beautiful couple and their beloved service dog, Monte, are on an amazing ride. Rich Dixon is hand-cycling all the way from the headwaters of the Mississippi River in Minnesota on a 1,500 mile journey which recently took them through the lobby of the Peabody Hotel in Memphis and on through some Mississippi small towns before they arrived in Jackson. His story is too big to contain in my little blog, but his message is too powerful not to share here. Please see Rich's Ride to discover how a man who could not roll his chair ten feet down a hall tackles a journey such as this one!

His beautiful wife, Becky, is a part of this as well, and--though we only spoke for a morning--I can tell she exudes joy from a Source deep within. I will be reading Rich's story of God's Relentless Grace and hope you'll check on this book, which is not about Rich so much as it is a witness to faith in God who will not let us go.

Anyone who has ever had a deep loss or may ever face a deep loss (that about covers most of us) will benefit from Rich's journey of discovery that HOPE is an expectation rooted in faith.

Hope like this is not anemic wishing. Real hope is grounded in God's provision for us - providing presence, perseverance, and prompting dreams that spring up when we least expect them.

Forget the former things;
do not dwell on the past.
See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness
and streams in the wasteland (Isaiah 43:18,19).

I am only an amateur when it comes to dreaming dreams as I compare myself to Rich's life, but that is but one of the dangers of comparison: we can cower before the example of someone better/bigger/bolder and let fear of failure snuff out the flame of desire to do something. Sometimes the biggest step is the first--for Rich, the first ten feet were the hardest--and so we encourage one another to step out in faith and take that step . Let us strap on our walking shoes for the day and see what this day holds, emboldened by the example of someone whose life encourages us to do the same.

Doorways to Courage

“Always remember, you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think." ~Winnie The Pooh

Encouraging words spring from many sources. Juvenile fiction holds a treasure trove of wisdom, frequently neither juvenile nor fictitious. We find more ancient parallels below as refreshment to our souls when we need to take heart--the original meaning of encouragement:


Deuteronomy 31:6
Be strong and of good courage, do not fear nor be afraid of them; for the LORD your God, He is the One who goes with you. He will not leave you nor forsake you.

Psalm 27:1
The LORD is my light and my salvation; Whom shall I fear? The LORD is the strength of my life; Of whom shall I be afraid?

Psalm 56:3-4
When I am afraid, I will trust in you.
Isaiah 41:10
So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

Isaiah 41:13
For I am the LORD, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you.

And parting words always call for our attention:

If there ever comes a day when we can't be together keep me in your heart, I'll stay there forever.
~ Winnie the Pooh

Lifelong Learners

“Education would be so much more effective if its purpose were to ensure that by the time they leave school every boy and girl should know how much they don’t know, and be imbued with a lifelong desire to know it.”

– Sir William Haley

I am thankful for the early school years my children enjoyed in a place that made learning challenging and fun. I still think of learning as colorful, creative, tactile, wonderfully messy... and fun. There was a spirit of adventure and aliveness that undergirded our home's support of reading, puzzles, painting, cooking, travel and experimenting while learning to do our best in places where we could excel as well as when a child faced a challenge and surmounted the obstacle with effort.

I must confess, the photos in Ann Voskamp's blog post make me wish for the chance to be a homeschool mom and do it all over again--in the old school fashion--as her shots bring to mind memories of my own education in many ways. But we do not get to live our lives over again, so we deliberately choose our paths carefully.

Gifted teachers who poured energy and robust enthusiasm for life into their classrooms--for me and for our children--have a place in my heart. Others, undergoing a hard season personally, illustrated a quiet grace and confidence that they may have doubted occasionally as they led their students through the year the way they were learning to press on themselves: one day at a time. I had respect for their faithfulness in standing firm when life presented tough times.

Thank a teacher sounds like a worn bumper sticker, but I have been giving thanks for some memorable ones today.

My own dear fourth grade teacher is a woman of beauty and grace who has turned ninety years old. I thought of her again this week when I met her daughter and reminisced about my delight in her classroom.

And then it hit me: each of us is a teacher to someone. May we try to be among the best of them as God gives us grace to experience the joy of learning something new for a long, long time.

And I think again...

One daughter dressed herself for kindergarten and first grade career days in a smock and carried brushes and palette. Among all the veterinarians, doctors, nurses, firefighters and pro football players, she walked her little quiet self into the classroom and said she wanted to be an artist. Twice.

Years passed.

The little girl grew up.

She got her start in a place that encouraged a love of learning new things. She wrote an international training manual for a French company while in New York. She has researched human behavior and marketing and has worked in communications and product placement with some interesting people. She published a book chapter on autism in children. She appreciates a connection between creativity and the brain and may be continuing to pursue that point in her lifelong learning.

And recently, she began to put brush strokes on canvas. Small steps...one at a time... a bit of paint on the brush applied with, I suspect, the same spark of curiosity she displayed at age five. Isn't that we way we learn to do anything new?

Much to my delight and to her great enjoyment, she has completed some water colors and works of art in oil. She is taking the next step. That is all we have to do: just take the next step on the journey. Start something. Finish something. Learn from it.

May God guide our next step in living into who we are and who we want to be and do. Thank someone who has guided your next step as we continue to learn each day.

For in him we live, and move, and have our being. As some of your own poets have said, 'For we are also his offspring.' Acts 17:28

The Lord said to Moses, “See,...I have filled him with the Spirit of God, with ability and intelligence, with knowledge and all craftsmanship, to devise artistic designs, to work in gold, silver, and bronze, in cutting stones for setting, and in carving wood, to work in every craft." Exodus 31:1-6

Basket of Pears, by Rhymes Stabler taken from Photo by Rachel Kabukula who has other beautiful farmers' market finds on her blog.

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)