Honors and Benefits--Already at the Age of . . . Oh, Nevermind

Thanks for the award, Melinda!

I wish I had something clever to say, but sadly, no. I have been sitting on this for a little while because I am relatively new to Bloggyland, and I don't know five bloggers on which to bestow this award. Be that as it may, I will pass it along where I can :)



I need to pass this on to five people, post on their blog to let them know I left this award, and then I need to answer a list of questions in ONE word. And they they will answer these same questions and pass the award on to five others.



1. Where is your cell phone?…pocket

2. Your hair?… growing

3. Your mother?…serious

4. Your father?…trying

5. Your favorite food?… savory

6. Your dream last night?… familiar

7. Your favorite drink?…cocoa

8. Your dream/goal?… author

9. What room are you in?… breakfast

10. Your hobby?… blogging

11. Your fear?… emptiness

12. Where do you want to be in 6 years?…rooted

13. Where were you last night?… table

14. Something that you aren’t?… unburdened

15. Muffins?… cranberry

16. Wish list item?… rescue

17. Where did you grow up?… everywhere

18. Last thing you did?… read

19. What are you wearing?… warmth

20. Your TV?… boring

21. Your Pets?… fish

22. Friends?… life

23. Your life?… evolving

24. Your mood?… contemplative

25. Missing Someone?… girlfriends

26. Vehicle?… shared

27. Something you're not wearing?… glasses

28. Your favorite store?… Wholefoods

29. Your favorite colour?… depends

30. When was the last time you laughed?… today

31. Last time you cried?… yesterday

32. Your best friend?… Eddie

33. One place that I go to over and over?… driving

34. Facebook?… sometimes

35. Favorite place to eat?…quiet

Life by the Fire

Today I wrote for a while on the couch-- draped in a Christmas blanket-- beside a warm fire. My astute daughter asked me if this is the reason I went to college--so I can work from home by the fire and not have to be in a building somewhere wearing a skirt (my daughter equates wearing a skirt with having bamboo shoved under her fingernails). She doesn't really get that I am home to be with her and my other three children, and I don't wear a skirt because it rides up when I bend over to clean the toilet. Nonetheless, one day she will know the joy that comes from spending each day doing what you love most. And I am hopeful that she will drape herself in the assurance of my love for her and know that, for me, each day with her and with her brothers and sister is a day by the fire.

Frustration

I never write poetry. But I am feeling a little sorrowful tonight, and rather than carry on, I wrote this:


Belonging to you is like drowning.
Tumbling
over
and
over again
in the waves--
Gasping for the air of your approval
the sunshine of your love
and tasting mostly brine.
In your own way, you try to save me
Though all of your affections are weighted
by conditions and excuses.
Struggling toward the shore,
I imagine a life without you
But I am sucked down by pity
and the hope that someday
we will have nothing between us
except tenderness.
For now, I scrape my chin
against the coarse sand
and wince from the burn in my eyes
while you watch from your perch
in your ignorance
and smile.

Quittin' Time

It is 11:00. The dishes are done. The clothes are folded. The children are bathed and have been sleeping soundly for a couple of hours. As I sit and write, all the stress of the day drips down my back and puddles on the floor.

It's odd, really, how I put on stress like a garment every morning. Mine is a bulky sweater with LOTS of pockets to make room for more. But at the end of each day, I drink hot chocolate or read or write. I watch my children sleep, and I am light again.

Lord, I have not finished the puzzle of what life looks like when I am loved by you. I am sure, though, that this moment is part of that picture, and I am grateful.

Heart in Transit

My thirteen year-old daughter broke down today. For some this may be a common occurrence, but not for her. She does get teary-eyed frequently because she is, after all, almost completely hormonal. But today my gut ached for her because she sobbed--the kind of crying when your breath comes in quick gasps. She is a heart in transit. We uprooted her from her beloved family and church and dog and friends when she was eight, and we promised her that there would be a better life in Austin for her. And just when she was really beginning to believe God smiled upon her in her Texas home, we did it again. She left everything she knew to move back to a memory--only the memory has moved on. I promised her today that she would build a new and amazing life here, and I honestly believe she will. She is funny and warm and doesn't take herself too seriously--something I didn't approach until almost forty. I know that her life will connect with others and be woven again into something beautiful.

But in the meantime

we wait . . . and cry.

Sista

If my sister-in-law were an element, she would be Earth. When I am with her, my roots dig deep and flex and curl, and then my soul soars. She is alive and ever-changing but has an undefinable stability about her.

She is my sista--she gets me, and I adore her. We talk about God and sex and books and parents and bitter disappointment and nieces who want cookies and pudding. We belly laugh and weep together. She is coffee with cream for me and the sweet smell of rain. She drinks red wine and talks REALLY LOUD and leaves me intoxicated with giddy laughter.

And I love her for that.