She is. I AM.

She is immediate. I am Perfect Timing.

She is happiness. I am Joy.

She is condemnation. I am Mercy.

She is terror. I am Peace.

She is blame. I am Forgiveness.

She is pimp. I am Shepherd.

She is cleverness. I am Wisdom.

She is murder. I am Life.

She is passing out. I am Rest.

She is dust. I am Garden.

She is smoke. I am Air.

She is accessory. I am Friend.

She is clique. I am Unity.

She is self. I am Sacrifice.

She is a while. I am ETERNITY

and I Love you.

Happy Birthday, Love!

• Happy birthday, Kevvie!
• Hope you loved your cinnamon roll.
• Hope you get a big ol' turkey with Alan.
• Hope your ankle doesn't hurt you.
• Hope the weather makes you happy.
• Hope you do whatever you want.
• Hope we accomplish things that you feel good about getting done.
• Hope you enjoy encouragement and inspiration today.
• Hope dinner turns out well.
• Hope the boys call you.
• I wish you Jesus all day long.

You are the most patient, loving example of Him to me. Thank you, Lord, for the day he was born. I am so ridiculously blessed. XO

here for you

I am a pencil to write on your heart reminders of a titanic love for you.

I am arms to wrap around you and caress your face so you can feel love against your skin.

I am a cup of warmth to hug your insides.

I am the punch line that makes you laugh after crying your heart out.

I am the soup that fills your bowl and helps you sleep.

I am backbone when your courage fails.

I am the wall that defends you from the bad.

I am the quiet that quells the cacophony.

I am the words that broadcast your need.

I am the sunrise against the sunset.

I am your friend, your helper, your shoulder and encouragement.

I am the Body.

The Ya-Yas at Priest Lake

Lunch With Jamara

I had lunch with "Mawa" the other day. I was with her for about five hours, and I marveled afterward at how I could've easily spent another five. She got me caught up on all the family fronts and her condition, Adult Stills. That she could go through all the physical and emotional struggle she faces and still be SO up, so full of hope and joy and expectation is nothing short of the miracle of His life in her. I love her perfume--it is the fragrance of Christ. My insides are all warmed and hugged up by the time I leave her company, even if I arrived a first class case of snarky. I think she got that gift from her precious mama. Isn't she beautiful?


She sits on a booster chair to make it easier to get up because her knees are swollen and painful. Isn't she adorable?

She offered me some gum, and I thought she'd pull out a stick. She pulled out a pack, then another and another and another until she'd pulled out seven! She had an eighth, but she gave that one away. "I'm trying to find my favorite gum." Isn't she interesting?

The padding on her crutches has become molded to fit each particular arm shape, so she labeled them left and right. She's going to back over the lettering with fingernail polish to make it pretty and permanent. Isn't she clever?

I love this little girl. She's been through so freakin' much, and she still stands strong and brilliant and inspiring. I wish I had half the life in me that she does. So much goodness, kindness, intelligence, laughter, joy, and love. Abba, please heal her body. Touch her and make her body healthy again. I know You can. Please want to.

next time

Next time I would like:

• the same people to not take up so much of the time talking and be glad not to. We all have stories; let's share the time more evenly.
• the quieter people to be noticed and asked questions. I'd like to hear from them too.
• more summaries and less detail in the interest of brevity.
  
• you to skip ahead if we tell you we already know the preface of this story. We don't need to hear it again unless you're adding something to it that we didn't already hear the first time.
  
• to not wash the dishes as many times as I did.
  
• to not care that I washed the dishes as many times as I did.
  
• everyone to think these are reasonable thoughts too and not be offended.
• to be brave and wise and discerning enough to know if/when to bring these things up in person because for now I'm not, which is why I saved this so long as a draft and am only publishing it plenty after the actual event. Yep, totally coward. Judge on.
  

on getting older

There are a gillion blog posts and comments out there by women in their 20s who are worried about aging. I'm almost 48, so when I think I'd like to look the ten years younger that beauty products tout, that sounds pretty good--38.  But if you're 27, that'd make you 17--how bad can you look at 27? Wish I could tell them from this side of the hill that they'll never look or feel this fine again and to just take care of themselves and enjoy.

My 30th high school reunion was this summer, but I didn't go. I didn't feel the need or desire. I keep in touch with a handful of friends from my class, and that's perfect for me. It was fun to see the pictures though. I felt a little voyeurism coming on because I was able to "see" them, but they couldn't see me. [Is that a power thing when we find ourselves privy to a sight or conversation that they thought was private? Fodder for later.] I had no idea who some of the people were so a friend who did attend identified for me the ones she recognized.

I do have a point. One of the things someone wrote in a follow-up email on the reunion was that it was a good time to get together and check in with people, that it's a time in life when you're comfortable with who you are, you've experienced some success, some humbling, some real life, and you know what's bottom line important. Seems like that's a good handle on what it means to finally be comfortable in your own human skin. That's beautiful, and it's true for me for the most part. I only hope it gets even better with age.

While I do admit that vanity is one of my faults (I do NOT leave the house without foundation AND eyeliner AND decent hair), I am grateful that it is not something I dwell on for large amounts of time. From what I understand of the raging effects of menopause, this could very well become a greater beast with time. However, for now, the raging effects of self-absorption, self-protection, and neglect are my battlefronts, things that will lead to the kind of regret people remember in their old age. And I mean, I was never beautiful anyway, so there's not that to grieve. Outer beauty always, always, always fades. But my personality and character--they have the potential to improve with age!

Better get back to work on that. Right after I fix my lipstick.

childhood

Kev & I are discovering more and more that we were so blessed growing up to have decent, loving, God-fearing parents. We are always a tiny percentage of the people in a group who didn't suffer some kind of trauma in childhood. That's pretty ghastly, considering the higher degree and prominence of morality in our parents' generation.

On a cheerier note, let's talk about me. I had a great childhood. Given the prevalence of traumatized people around me, I almost feel guilty about it. Almost. I grew up on five acres. My mom stayed home and took care of us, including working like a horse in the house and yard. My dad worked hard all day long, then he'd come home and work hard all evening, often with all of us helping. We were raised to respect our elders, have good manners, honor God, run away from cars that slowed way down to lure you into them, use your money wisely but still have some fun, wear clean underwear, eat all the food on your plate because people in China were starving, and clean up after yourself. The same stuff all my friends learned. We played in haystacks, hid in huge trees, rode bikes to the store and bought penny candy, rode horses to ponds and swam around saddle and all, and ice skated on those ponds after my dad skated around it with a broom to clear the snow. Then we'd sit around a fire to warm up and drink hot chocolate from those Thermos containers with the fragile glass innards. Yeah, the ones that actually kept things hot.

You can picture here the stuff movies are made of: cotton candy skies, butterfly fairies, enormous round moons, firefly twinkles, and the music that only the pure in heart hear and then enter into with dance. I know I'm guilty of the tendency to romanticize the past, omitting subconsciously or not, the real life stuff of fights, mistakes, regrets, and hurtful words. But the fact that I have so very many really great memories seems evidence enough to declare that I had a truly wonderful childhood. Hugs, loving words, praise, sacrifice, investments of time, money, and energy into us kids--these are things I experienced in abundance.

It is my heart's prayer that my children have more good memories than bad of their childhood and that they can be part of that blessed minority of the untraumatized. And that they are as deeply grateful as we are.

things I like about being home alone

• the quiet of no TV
• not inconveniencing someone else if I don't clean up a mess right away
• not being embarrassed if a burp (or something worse) escapes
• reading for long stretches
• naps
  
• following my own schedule--or none at all
• being able to hear myself think
• not feeling "on"
• taking my time
• exercising when I want
• anticipating them getting home and getting a snack ready for when they hit the kitchen (they're always so grateful!)
  
• all the glances out the windows of flowers and trees and hills
  

I might add to this list if I think of other things later. Or I might just leave it as a bookmark, something to look back at in a few years when Jylle's off at college, and all I have is time by myself at home.

secrets

Do you have a secret?

I saw a segment on CNN about a blog called "postsecret." People send postcards in the mail to this guy who chooses some, scans and then posts them. Some are disturbing, some make you sad or make you laugh, and others are more like warm thoughts. He’s written books containing these post secrets, and he gives presentations on them too. He engages the audience by challenging them to tell someone their secret “and become who you really are” (or something close to that). He told the audience that if the truth were known, just about everyone has a secret that would break your heart.

He has testimonials from people who say their lives were changed by putting their secret out there. It freed them in a way they never dreamed, and they’re so thankful. "We think we're keeping secrets, but the secrets are actually keeping us. With one courageous decision, you've freed a part of your life." One lady in the audience stood up and said she wanted to reveal her secret to everyone right there. They didn’t show us what she said, but it was compelling to me to think of someone doing that. I’m going to tell these 500 people the dark secret I’ve been carrying around for years. Then again, it'd be easier to tell a stranger, wouldn't it...?

I always think everyone around me is pretty much doing okay. But I suppose there’s a little bit of freak in all of us, that feeling of not fitting in or being alone or misunderstood. I would never have known that there are so many people, I’m talking a quarter-million, who have all these secrets--and those are only the ones who've sent in postcards!

I am so sheltered. Maybe that’s Your protection over me. My heart aches raw for the secrets I have been given—You know how much one lamb can handle. Just think of all those other lambs out there.......