The Wayfarer

     Our town is filled with beautiful old architecture.  The houses in the downtown are all different, and rife with old Southern charm.  As I ate lunch yesterday, I gazed out of my window at the windows next door.  My eyes lingered on the antique glass, the peeling paint on the wood frames.  I adored the bricks, the angle of the roof, and the depth of the sills.  Eventually, my eyes caught sight of the vines growing up and around the windows.  The green plants contrasted with the red bricks.  The sight was captivating, but what occurred to me was the juxtaposition of the deliberate, well-planned and measured angles against the casual, ambling curve of the vines.
     There is something in  the eye that loves an angle, especially a well-built right angle (and, unfortunately, something in my knees and elbows that is attracted to them, too).  I will not suggest that we abandon angle-making; however, I do simply suggest that we intentionally practice the art of the free-form curve here and there.  No planning, no pattern, just flow.  Perhaps even allowing yourself to (gasp!) follow the Path of Least Resistance.

     Admit it:  there is something in a creek which feels so incredibly right.  I submit to you that the rightness is due to  an utter lack of stress.  A creek doesn't plow, persist, or assert itself.  A creek meanders, bubbles, and takes its time.  If something gets in its way, the creek goes around.  A creek adopts the temperature that the sun, air, and earth around it suggest.  No worries; no regrets.  Why not occasionally allow the creek to suggest the course of your day?  Make certain you have days when you wake up, meander outside for the paper, and say hi to the neighbors.  When they ask you what you are up to that day, say, "Oh, I don't know.  We'll see what the day brings."  

Niagara Falls, Ontario

     We pride ourselves on being busy.  How foolish!   Look at some pictures of yourself last time you took a real vacation, one where you were at a resort, or at least in a hotel.  One where you had no responsibilities.  Preferably, no kids along.  Look at your face.  I always look younger, happier, and incredibly at ease in those pictures.  I mentioned that fact to a friend, and she said, "Of course:  you were relaxed."  Even more, I was wayfaring.  I was moving in wanton curves, and I was beautiful, green, alive.  Like the vine growing up those deliberately perfect bricks.
     Most days I am the brick.  Some days, I am the vine.  LORD, please help me to be the vine more often.

"There was a man all alone; he had neither son nor brother.
There was no end to his toil,    yet his eyes were not content with his wealth.“For whom am I toiling,” he asked,    “and why am I depriving myself of enjoyment?”This too is meaningless—a miserable business!"  Ecclesiastes 4:8

Child Support

Excuses to not blog:
1.  I just moved from AL to GA.
2.  We had eight house guests last weekend.
3.  Our new house is an old fixer-upper.
4.  My daughter grew up and moved to a college dorm in VA.

     Well, I could go on and on, but what is the point?  Instead, I will share one of my old writings with you.  I found it while I was unpacking.  (Yep, I'm still unpacking.  I will be for some months yet).  The article seemed appropriate, since I just dropped my oldest baby off at college this past weekend.
     Anyhow, I was unpacking, and I found some old articles I used to write for my church newsletter.  They were aimed at the youth group, and I called the column, "Youth Turn."  This particular article is about my youngest child.  I hope you enjoy the article, dated January 2004.

     Well, today is Henry's third birthday.  My baby is three.  I am all right with it!  Really!  I am!  Oh, dear...
     Henry has grown away from so many of his "baby ways."  He is potty-trained.  He drinks from a regular glass.  He speaks (and speaks, and speaks...) in paragraphs.  Most of all, Henry walks away from Mommy to play with other children.  I feel like a former smoker, standing there wondering what to do with my hands.  You kids don't realize how cruel you  are, walking away from us like that.  You are so focused on the path ahead of you.  
     Ah, but I am rambling.  This process is healthy.  It is called growth.  I remember when Henry was 6 months old; he was an incredibly fat and jolly baby.  At his check-up, the doctor pointed out to me that Henry was not yet supporting any weight on his legs.  She wanted to evaluate him in two weeks.  What fear she instilled in me!  What if Henry were developmentally delayed?  What if he wasn't...normal?  What a relief when, two weeks later, she pronounced him simply lazy!  What a relief to have a lazy but normal child!  She pointed out that supporting his substantial weight was a bigger challenge than most babies face.  We both laughed aloud--she with humor, I with relief.  
     Do I have a point?  Of course.  Check out this little tidbit from the word of God:  "...it is hard to explain because you are slow to learn.  In fact, though by this time you ought to be teachers, you need someone to teach you the elementary truths of God's word all over again.  You need milk, not solid food! ...solid food is for the mature, who by constant use have trained themselves to distinguish good from evil.  Therefore let us leave the elementary teachings about Christ and go on to maturity..." (Hebrews 5:11-6:1).  Well, that is a scathing remark.  Have you been in for an evaluation lately?  Be certain that you are supporting weight on those legs!  Get enough milk to grow strong, then move on!  Grow!  And don't worry.  Mama has plenty of other things to do.

     This article is dedicated to my daughter, Bridget, who has made me proud by needing me a little less with every year of her life.  Now she has left the nest and is doing exactly what I taught her to do:  break my heart by flying on her own.

Me vs Reality

     Ok, so I am 3 days behind on my blog this week.  Forgive me; moving in is hard work, and if I don't have quiet time, I have a hard time listening to the movement of the Spirit.  And I don't write.  Anyhow, I found this poem in my bedside table stuff while I was unpacking boxes.  I wrote it a couple of years ago, when I was feeling Bridget grow away from me, and when I was losing another young person from my life, even if he wasn't (technically) my own child.  It was hard to see him grow and go.  Now, with my daughter, Bridget, teetering on the edge of the nest, this poem feels especially apropos.  Fly, my baby B--fly!

These Ties Don't Bind

The hardest things to let go of

Are the ones I never held

The ones I grasped at

But never really caught.

The ones that I only thought

Truly belonged in my life

They were just shadows behind

The true life I lived.

And now the time has come.

I know you're free.

The hand releases, and

The heart must follow suit.

by Donna Craig

Outside the Box

Jer retires from the USAF.  Aug. 2011

downtown Prattville.  Christmas 2006

     I am surrounded by boxes and the sound of packing tape.  "One last time, Lord.  One last time."  I am very tired.  I am not tired so much in my body, but in my spirit.  I am tired of leaving friends that I love, church families with whom I have bonded, neighbors I have befriended, schools which know and accept my children.  I am tired of learning my way around and wondering where to shop.  I am tired of leaving people and places which are a part of my life.
     "It's not very far; you can always come back and visit," they say with a sad smile.  Don't get me wrong; I can't resist that hopeful thought.  On the other hand, I am a seasoned mover.  I know that the day-to-day sharing of life with these people is over.  It cannot be recovered.  A visit will not make me feel better.  I know, with a sad sinking in my heart, that I am surrendering something which I will suffer without.  I am surrendering my happy life.  I will have to find another one.
     Once, in another place where I had found happiness, Jerry and I pulled up some old holly bushes.  We learned about taproots.  You see, the bushes had a large root from their centers which went straight down into the earth.  I believe they went to China.  Try as we might, we could neither dig up these roots nor pull them out.  I have no idea how far down they went because, eventually, we were forced to give up and just break them off.  It was the only way to remove them.  It is the only way I will leave Prattville.  Break me, Lord.  I cannot let go.

Christmas 2011, Autauga Creek and its
bridge in the background

     Oh, Prattville--how amazed I am at the happiness I have found here.  Once upon a time, I thought I could not surrender my life in Athens and learn to love Prattville.  Six years later, I cannot surrender Prattville.  Six years is a long time in a military life.  Until now, neither Jerry nor I had ever even lived in one place for five years.  When I moved here, my youngest child was starting kindergarden.  As I leave, my oldest child has graduated  high school and is leaving for college.  So much water under that bridge over Autauga Creek.  So much living.  Such a thick root.  We will have to break it, Lord.

Here we grew our own food,
Bridget, 2009

     The tape guns keep firing, straight into my soul.  So far, there are no exit wounds.  The pain keeps bouncing around inside of me, and I cry easily.  Bridget's friends keep stopping by to say good-bye, and the phone rings off the hook.  I remember that taproot, and the way the earth packed in around it.  The ground held to that root just as tightly as the root held to the ground.  Prattville will not let us go quietly.  Sometimes I think it would be easier for me if no one cared, if no one held onto me.  Just release me, and I will float away.  The truth is, I need to be clung to.  I need to know that somehow, for some people, Prattville just won't be the same without us.  There will be a big cavernous hole, with loose dirt falling and settling.  For a while, that empty hole will maintain its place, stubbornly clinging to its emptiness.  Perhaps, by the time the dirt settles and the earth fills in that hole, I will have found another happy life.  One last time, Lord.  One last time.




Some happy life moments from our 6 years in Prattville.

Henry and Jer check out our new house, May 2006

Henry eats dots at the Montgomery Biscuits game, July 06

Henry starts kindergarden.  Aug 06

my brother becomes a father Sept 2007

Henry ain't nothin' but a hound dog, Oct 2007

Henry rides his bike Jan 08

Bridget becomes a young woman.
Homecoming, 2008

we become part of a community-minded church,
and a new way of following Christ begins for us, 2008.
Below, the original members of our small group:  Groupski.
We bound our lives up in these people, and then they moved
away, breaking our hearts.  A bit of a turning of the tables for
military types!

                           

Jer and I have lunch dates on Tues., since all of our kids
are in school.  2008

My mom marries Eddie 2009

We LOVE the parades in downtown Prattville!

Henry gets his bird, Sherbert 2009

We lead a youth small group in our home2009-2011

We fall in love with and "adopt" Willis, even though he has a
perfectly wonderful home!  Everyone loves the extra big
brother.  He's the 4th child we never had.

Snow after church, 2010.  Snow causes great excitement in AL!

Watching our children grow.  Here is Henry in a church Christmas
program, 2010

The Pride of Prattville Marching Band.  About 260 kids,
tons and tons of great fun.

We've been hosting and loving 4th of July celebrations here,
since Prattville really puts on a great show.

We host the Thanksgiving gathering of the clan,
which includes the annual football game

we enjoy simple family moments in our super-cool kitchen

           

                   Bridget gets accepted to Liberty University, her dream
              Sept 2011

Kevin rocks the percussion section 2012

Jer baptizes Henry.  Now all 3 of my children profess
Christ.  God is good.  2012

 

Bridget and Kevin are both in high school and ride to
school together.  2011-2012

Having two children in the band is twice the fun!
Kevin plays cymbals, 2011

Bridget and her Seekers run the Operation Christmas Child
distribution center for a whole weekend, after impressing the
lady in charge the year before.  2011

Seekers, B's Bible Study, is a screaming success (as many as 50 students
in attendance!)