I finally committed.

Dug up the soil, stripped of grass, turned and chopped and dug some more. To put this much work into a project, one must commit.

But the weeks have drawn on with questions of just that. Rumors of sure departure finally put to rest and here we will rest, at least for now.

So if this is where we are, why not put down some roots. Sink them deep in soil turned and rich with the richness of life spent.

home indeed

The ocean or the mountains;

 I always thought it would be one or the other.

But this…

this sea of trees where the humidity only hides imaginary peaks just out of reach. 

Home is where your rump rests….where your heart is…where your family is…where the soups on…where you park it…where I'm with you…

…home indeed.

No "thing" can make you happy.

Not the right school, not the weather, not a job, not a package in the mail, not the ocean, not the mountains, not even a house. 

I know, because I've been looking for that happy…

…that elusive peak just out of reach.

Up, Over and Around

"Hey, you want to do Skyline in the morning?" she whispered just as the meeting started.

I didn't even hesitate, I love that beast of a run. Hesitation did come later as my tired bones struggled to tuck in kids and sweep floors. 5:20 am comes pretty quick, especially on my day off.  I guess I wasn't the only one since her first words out of her car were, "Maybe we should just run the river."

Too late. I was already committed. It's been months since we've ran up, over and around our little mountain, last time she was six months pregnant; this time I felt like I was.

It was hard, and my body is soft, but they both came through in the end. It was a beautiful view from shaking legs.

I stopped at the store on the way home and as I passed by other early morning shoppers I couldn't help but think, "I've been up and down a mountain today, what have you done?"

....and truthfully, I don't know.

3D Views

She was southern personified. Elegant, gracious, welcoming and kind....and I didn't see it coming. I had watched her for two years and been a recipient of her kindness, and I knew she was good. Her children all grown with kids of their own, she still lived a life of service. On a car ride with 6 other women through a tunnel of trees she offered a single act of kindness with a heartfelt plea. She told her story of ache and sorrow, problems we never would have guessed; the burdens only a mother can carry when her children struggle to find their way. I suppose it wasn't such a strange story, similar things happen every day, but what it did in me, I'll never forget. To have someone like her ask for help, for a shoulder, for her sound to be heard....

from someone like me...

it spun me around, and I saw in 3D what before had been a pencil sketch. This woman of strength and beauty had also been ripped and torn, and she was real. And if it was so for her, why not every other woman I knew?

Since then, I have had the privilege to know many other women who have lived a full life and fought a good fight, and I love to hear their stories. They show me purpose in what I am doing now. Purpose in the day to day, purpose in climbing the mountains, purpose in fighting with everything I've got for what I've got, and purpose in doing it together.

I suppose they could just smile and wave from the sidelines, covering their scars with the excuses of old age, but they don't, they share the good, the bad and the ugly, and that act of kindness gives me hope that one day I'll have some stories to tell of my own...

in high depth resolution.

wordfull wednesdays @ chocolateonmycranium

Feeding the Hungry

We sang the song I'm sure I had sung several times before, and had never heard.

In fasting we approach thee here

And pray thy Spirit from above

Will cleanse our hearts, cast out our fear,

And fill our hunger with thy love.

It had been a tough week for everyone. Unexpected loss of those so young disrupts, even breaks life as we know it; leaves us scrambling to fix, offering food and calls and silent hugs.

Thru this small sacrifice, may we

Recall that strength and life each day

Are sacred blessings sent from thee-

Fill us with gratitude, we pray.

During that mending melody they came in, one less than the week before but stronger. Strength that came not from their own splintered spirits, but from the angels surrounding them; I felt them as they squeezed by and settled into crowed pews.

And may our fast fill us with care

for all thy children now in need.

may we from our abundance share

They sheep to bless, thy lambs to feed.

At that point we were all children of need and and yet there was so much abundance shared.

This fast, dear Father, sanctify-

Our faith and trust in thee increase.

As we commune and testify,

May we be filled with joy and peace.

I saw her again that night, the mother who had lost, and and for the first time in thee days she looked fuller; maybe just the edge knocked off her hunger, simple willingness to trust in her eyes. 

Text: Paul L. Anderson, b. 1946. © 1981 Paul L. Anderson and Lynn R. Carson.

Can you hear me now?

I haven't seen my sister in a long time and I miss her. I don't know if I can remember what it was like just to pick up the phone and call her. But sometimes, she comes and whispers something in my ear or even hangs out for a while. Sometimes I'm too busy to even realize she was here until I think back and hear her laughter and encouraging spunk mingled throughout my ordinary day; as real as the laundry, and I gratefully fold and tuck those memories away with the others.

I'm different now. I suppose loss changes anyone, you see things differently, appreciate things you never noticed, and cherish more what is really important.

But it's more than that.

I'm a different person without her here. Bad or good...probably a little of both, but definitely different. I see more of myself, I'm more responsible for my decisions and more accepting of my shortcomings. I feel more united with all kinds of people and more confident on my own.

She stopped by last week and stuck around a while, reminding me of funny songs to teach my kids, helped me do a spring cleaning on my list of priorities, and celebrated new found grit.

I'll always miss her...she left an un-fillable hole. She made me a better person when she was here and when she left. In some ways I like this form of communication better. Simple and uncluttered. Better than any phone plan available.

Hope

Click here to donate...or here....or even here.
Yes, money is tight; already spoken for, but really we have so much,

compared to nothing.

Our hearts are filled with sadness as we have watched the suffering in Haiti in the wake of the devastating earthquake. We turn to the example of Jesus Christ, who reached out to “lift up the hands which hang down” and “strengthen the feeble knees.”

But it still feels empty...not enough to reach.
What more can you do when hands are tied to juggling all that they should?
Yes, click....donate, and donate again.

And hope...

Money is not the only need in Haiti. People are frightened, bewildered, and wholly uncertain about their future. In addition to what people can do in helping with food, water, and shelter, there needs to be a calming influence over that troubled nation. We invite our people everywhere to supplicate God for a spirit of calm and peace among the people as urgent aid and reconstruction efforts continue.

Wasn't His message a message of hope? Our hands are never strong enough, our arms never long enough to lift and to reach all...there are so many.

But hope...

I can do that.