Yesterday I asked, when inevitable failure occurs...what happens then?
I've been married ten years. I would not claim to be an expert. The challenges of two sinful people coming together and living graciously and harmoniously are many. But, I do know what happened when my heart was not full of thankfulness. Instead, filled with ingratitude. I traveled far down the path of resentment. I lived there for a few years. It was a lonely, sad place. All the books on doing better, trying harder, showing love more unselfishly were lost on me. I did not have a road map back, because my compass was faulty. My heart was caught up in what I deserved and did not get, rather than what I had and God's purpose for me in and through it.
Mercifully, God revealed two truths to me through the study of two different books. Books I wish I had read long before. Two books dealing with the heart of the problem, "When Sinners Day I Do" and "2Becoming1." I do not remember every chapter or concept, but from each book I took away one primary and, for me, revolutionary truth.
From the former, I was reminded that I am a sinner too. That would seem obvious. But, in the midst of frustration and conflict and long, tiring days, it's often not. Consider how often Jesus spoke about dealing with our own sin, the log in our own eye, rather than judging those around us for the specks in theirs. The book reminded me that I never come with clean hands. My motivations and thoughts, actions and words are suspect. I will bring some fault to every situation, and I need to be willing to consider that and examine myself, first. Being honest about my own failings not only makes me more humble, where I once was proud, but it makes me more gracious, where I once found only fault.
From the latter, I was reminded that God is perfect. Again, didn't I know this? If God is perfect and does not make mistakes, He is able, and does, join together two imperfect, sinful people who, according to HIS purposes, are perfect for one another. This simple truth delved deep. God does not make mistakes. In Matthews 19 Jesus says, "'So they are no longer two, but one. Therefore what God has joined together, let man not separate.' 'Why then,' they asked, 'did Moses command that a man give his wife a certificate of divorce and send her away?' Jesus replied, 'Moses permitted you to divorce your wives because your hearts were hard. But it was not this way from the beginning.'" Because your hearts were hard. But that is not what God intended.
Because of the fall, marriage is not ever easy. It gets hard, still. But my dependence is not on my husband, it is on the Lord. I know that for those He joins together, He purposes good through it. Proverbs 27:17 says, "As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another." Marriage is about grace. Sacrificial love. Becoming more Christ-like. The perfection of my character. It is not about what my husband does or does not do for me. It is about what God is doing in me. Because God is sovereign, I can trust that HE brought my husband into my life, flaws and all, for a purpose beyond my understanding...but also for good beyond my imagining. I can be thankful for him, as is, the gift God knows I really need.
The ring I placed on his finger ten years ago was a dull, brushed gold. All the wear of the years, the nicks, the scratches, the hardness of life against soft metal, should have taken it's toll. I look at it now. It shines brightly. Polished. More beautiful than the day it was made and given. The only recognizable resemblance is the etched cross on it's surface. Christ, the firm foundation. Christ, grace for me a sinner. Grace to perfect that which is flawed. Grace which inspires a heart of thankfulness. The way back.
251) the sight of my son sweetly holding and rocking his little sister
252) the older son patiently reading a child's book to her
253) the fun of dressing up and pretending, today, robots and pirates
254) the opposing swirls of hair on the back of my baby's head
255) the cowlick that rises into Mohawk tuft
256) the sun breaking out from behind the rain clouds to illumine the day
257) the chirping birdsong
258) the hopping birds searching for their morning meal among the grasses
259) the swift bird-flight soaring and arcing through the trees
260) the still-wet pavement glistening under the sunshine
262) the inspiring video of a hard-run race, falling does not prevent a strong finish
263) the much-needed laugh at my son's antics with Lego buildings
264) the kisses that bring comfort to salty, tear-stained cheeks
265) the timely reading of "Prayers for a Small Child"
266) the snapping turtle cloud
267) the word of God, sharper than two-edged sword, useful for teaching, correcting, rebuking, encouraging, revealing truth
268) the sprawling, open fields
269) the grazing cows
270) the red-leaf fringed bushes about our front porch
271) the sound of my daughter singing "Amazing Grace"
272) the evening-time when the cratered, half moon and low, glowing sun share the sky
273) the many climbing trees edging our property
274) the gnarled, old tree outside our door, still standing
275) the shoes, thoughtfully cleaned by my husband
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Day 10-A Firm Foundation (part one)
I glance at the still-sleeping form of my husband. A glint of gold catches my eye. His ring shines in the lessening darkness, reflecting the light seeping into our room. It wasn't like that when I gave it to him. I selected a brushed-gold ring, knowing him to prefer something understated. It was a beautiful effect, even in it's dullness of finish.
As with ring selection, we expended much time and energy in knowing one another's likes and dislikes well. Expectations and dreams. Building a foundation. We spent months diligently attending premarital counseling, doing all the requisite studying and follow-up discussion, reading all recommended books. One of the most highly regarded books at that time was the still-popular "The Five Love Languages." We tore through the chapters, eager to see the other in its pages and be better prepared to meet all the needs that attend growing love.
I could never have anticipated that this book, and others like it, would actually cause so much frustration. There is much to be said for seeking to actively demonstrate love to your spouse, to meet their specific needs and to avoid the damage of unmet expectations. Those pursuits ARE extremely important and worthy endeavors. However, I failed to consider the damage that might occur when the broader perspective of marriage is lost and so much emphasis is placed on what is being done.
Marriage is not really about what my husband does for me. I appreciate it, most definitely! But when I start to focus on what he does and doesn't do, it's only a matter of time before I connect those actions to his feelings for me and my sense of worth and security. When he doesn't do what I want, he doesn't really love me. I don't mean to keep a record of wrongs, but I do. The longer the list of wrongs becomes, the more ingratitude fills my heart. As my heart brims with ingratitude, discontent seeps into the marriage. The more discontent I feel in the relationship, the more I resent HIM for where we are, where I am. Once resentment is the primary attitude of my heart, I no longer desire to actively show love in any form or be receptive to that which he offers.
It's not that there is so much wrong with the doing. We are called to serve one another in love. That's what Ephesians' admonition to husbands and wives is about. Different methods of service, the wife's submission to the husband and the husband's sacrificial love for his wife. A wrong attitude of the heart creates an improper view of service. The attitude of the heart in marriage must be right or the actions will always be lacking.
This is inevitable, because we do not marry perfect people who are able to perfectly meet our needs, love languages or realistic, or unrealistic, expectations all the time. We marry sinners. I am a sinner! All the doing of life is bound to reveal flaws. How I handle those flaws is significant. How I view my husband in light of God's sovereign plan is significant. I can either treat him as a gift from the Lord, a gift to be thankful and grateful for, or as a person there to meet my needs.
So when inevitable failure occurs...what happens then? If my attitude is thankfulness, then I am content in spite of wrongs or unmet expectations. If I can say to my husband: I love you and am thankful for you, because I trust God brought us together. If there is anything to change for the better, that is God's work to do, not mine to identify...THEN I am being gracious. THEN we have a foundation on which to base a marriage.
226) the early morning snuggles of my toddler daughter with her Daddy
227) the baby's sweet, full-body sneeze
228) the oldest son's initiative to serve his siblings breakfast
229) the remarkably bright, blue sky
230) the crisp, clean air
231) the once-reluctant son's new-found enthusiasm for school
232) the tinkling sound of chimes in the distance
234) the twirling dance shared with my daughter
235) the rich, milk chocolate-covered, vanilla bean ice cream bars hidden in the freezer for me by my husband
236) the willingness of my husband to sacrificially serve our family and others
237) the admirable and incomparable work ethic he brings to his job
238) the way he tells me every day I'm beautiful
239) the wisdom and discernment he demonstrates in being a good steward of our finances
240) the gift of his humor
241) the report of answered prayer
242) the advances in medical technology allowing for more accurate diagnoses and treatments
243) the old-fashioned, oval brass curtain rod that turns our tub into a shower
244) the scrubbed, soapy-clean bare surface of my baby
245) the children, all snuggle-y in their pajamas, ready for bed
246) the aroma of percolating coffee
247) the company of great friends
248) the good report of continuing mission work with college students in Ukraine
249) the precious child whose presence defies doctors and testifies to God's power
250) the quiet house, hushed with slumber
As with ring selection, we expended much time and energy in knowing one another's likes and dislikes well. Expectations and dreams. Building a foundation. We spent months diligently attending premarital counseling, doing all the requisite studying and follow-up discussion, reading all recommended books. One of the most highly regarded books at that time was the still-popular "The Five Love Languages." We tore through the chapters, eager to see the other in its pages and be better prepared to meet all the needs that attend growing love.
I could never have anticipated that this book, and others like it, would actually cause so much frustration. There is much to be said for seeking to actively demonstrate love to your spouse, to meet their specific needs and to avoid the damage of unmet expectations. Those pursuits ARE extremely important and worthy endeavors. However, I failed to consider the damage that might occur when the broader perspective of marriage is lost and so much emphasis is placed on what is being done.
Marriage is not really about what my husband does for me. I appreciate it, most definitely! But when I start to focus on what he does and doesn't do, it's only a matter of time before I connect those actions to his feelings for me and my sense of worth and security. When he doesn't do what I want, he doesn't really love me. I don't mean to keep a record of wrongs, but I do. The longer the list of wrongs becomes, the more ingratitude fills my heart. As my heart brims with ingratitude, discontent seeps into the marriage. The more discontent I feel in the relationship, the more I resent HIM for where we are, where I am. Once resentment is the primary attitude of my heart, I no longer desire to actively show love in any form or be receptive to that which he offers.
It's not that there is so much wrong with the doing. We are called to serve one another in love. That's what Ephesians' admonition to husbands and wives is about. Different methods of service, the wife's submission to the husband and the husband's sacrificial love for his wife. A wrong attitude of the heart creates an improper view of service. The attitude of the heart in marriage must be right or the actions will always be lacking.
This is inevitable, because we do not marry perfect people who are able to perfectly meet our needs, love languages or realistic, or unrealistic, expectations all the time. We marry sinners. I am a sinner! All the doing of life is bound to reveal flaws. How I handle those flaws is significant. How I view my husband in light of God's sovereign plan is significant. I can either treat him as a gift from the Lord, a gift to be thankful and grateful for, or as a person there to meet my needs.
So when inevitable failure occurs...what happens then? If my attitude is thankfulness, then I am content in spite of wrongs or unmet expectations. If I can say to my husband: I love you and am thankful for you, because I trust God brought us together. If there is anything to change for the better, that is God's work to do, not mine to identify...THEN I am being gracious. THEN we have a foundation on which to base a marriage.
226) the early morning snuggles of my toddler daughter with her Daddy
227) the baby's sweet, full-body sneeze
228) the oldest son's initiative to serve his siblings breakfast
229) the remarkably bright, blue sky
230) the crisp, clean air
231) the once-reluctant son's new-found enthusiasm for school
232) the tinkling sound of chimes in the distance
234) the twirling dance shared with my daughter
235) the rich, milk chocolate-covered, vanilla bean ice cream bars hidden in the freezer for me by my husband
236) the willingness of my husband to sacrificially serve our family and others
237) the admirable and incomparable work ethic he brings to his job
238) the way he tells me every day I'm beautiful
239) the wisdom and discernment he demonstrates in being a good steward of our finances
240) the gift of his humor
241) the report of answered prayer
242) the advances in medical technology allowing for more accurate diagnoses and treatments
243) the old-fashioned, oval brass curtain rod that turns our tub into a shower
244) the scrubbed, soapy-clean bare surface of my baby
245) the children, all snuggle-y in their pajamas, ready for bed
246) the aroma of percolating coffee
247) the company of great friends
248) the good report of continuing mission work with college students in Ukraine
249) the precious child whose presence defies doctors and testifies to God's power
250) the quiet house, hushed with slumber
Day 9-It's Not Much, But It's Home
I remember, when I was younger, going to homes now and then that I would have said had an "eclectic" taste. Mismatched furniture and decor. Well worn. Well lived in. Yet I never came away thinking they needed a make-over. In fact, I often enjoyed the homey quality. The families all seemed happy, however different their lifestyle may have been from the perfection of Southern Living or Pottery Barn.
Now I live in one of those homes. Watermarks on the buffet. Hand-me-down, used or scratch-and-dent furniture. Nothing considered a "set." Nicks in my bookshelf. Etchings in the dining table. Crayon and pencil drawings on the walls that could probably use a new coat of paint. Forget that we haven't even finished painting some halls and rooms for the first time! A hole in our bedroom window, stuffed with an old white undershirt. Scratched and worn wooden floors.
And I love our home. I've written about it before. It IS old. It IS homey. It IS beautiful to me in all of the life that it holds day in and day out and displays in the very fabric of its structure. But, I admit, sometimes I believe the lie that festers within. The lie that I deserve better, need more. The lie that breeds ingratitude and discontent.
I admiringly surveyed my newly-married sister's home recently and struggled not to envy it's pristine appearance and gorgeous decor. I am extremely happy for her and appreciative of her excellent taste. So why, even in the midst of my joy on her behalf, is it so easy to believe the lie?
Back in Philippians 4, Paul says, "I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want." He learned, through continual thanksgiving, to be content in all circumstances.
Once again, God does not qualify his statements. I either have or don't have. The quality of those provisions is never a matter of consideration. I don't get to complain because my curtains aren't as pretty as someone else's. It might be nice, but it is not a requirement for a happy home. I am not in want or in need. The reality is that I truly have plenty, plenty to be thankful for!
I have floors worn by the tread of many precious feet. I have walls marked by busy, curious, energetic little hands. I have furniture that holds our possessions and our bodies. I have a house that is loved and lived in. I'm reminded of Ron Weasley's humble comments when he brings Harry to their household for the first time, "It's not much. But it's home."
I would offer one caveat. It IS much. And I want to be mindful to give thanks for it, so I too may learn to be content!
201) the rounded belly of my baby boy, full with milk
202) the act of rolling over, another milestone
203) the spacious dining table, large enough for friends and family
204) the hugs shared between the older brothers and their younger siblings before school
205) the hammer-wielding three year old "fixing" protruding nails in our floorboards
206) the microwave that warms my beverage on chilly, winter mornings
207) the fading, dyed-red heels that graced my feet on prom night many years ago, giving my daughters such enjoyment today
208) the act of sitting unassisted, second developmental achievement in one day
209) the warmed, wooden planks under my bare-feet, absorbing sun through the windows
210) the granddaughter missing her Papa
211) the ornate, old buffet that holds all my discontinued Mikasa Richelieu china, purchased from an antique store
212) the sight of my children jumping gleefully on the couch together, before I made them stop
213) the comfort of wearing my husband's button-down shirt
214) the knowledge that God is sovereign over governments
215) the shelves that hold my many well-loved and well-worn books
216) the six frames on the playroom wall that display my children's works of art
217) the almost musical quality of a baby cooing
218) the bushes that become hiding places
219) the slide propped high on the Wheeping Cherry, made from the broken tree-house
220) the compost bin at the fallow garden's corner that will feed our seedlings and plants all spring and summer
221) the sandbox built by my husband's hands, scene of moats, castles, towers and mountains
222) the hole under the dogwood tree where the children dig and get dirty and imagine
223) the crystallized sweetness of dried pineapple
224) the picture of a woman in red with white-flowered bouquet
225) the monthly Book Club meeting tonight
Now I live in one of those homes. Watermarks on the buffet. Hand-me-down, used or scratch-and-dent furniture. Nothing considered a "set." Nicks in my bookshelf. Etchings in the dining table. Crayon and pencil drawings on the walls that could probably use a new coat of paint. Forget that we haven't even finished painting some halls and rooms for the first time! A hole in our bedroom window, stuffed with an old white undershirt. Scratched and worn wooden floors.
And I love our home. I've written about it before. It IS old. It IS homey. It IS beautiful to me in all of the life that it holds day in and day out and displays in the very fabric of its structure. But, I admit, sometimes I believe the lie that festers within. The lie that I deserve better, need more. The lie that breeds ingratitude and discontent.
I admiringly surveyed my newly-married sister's home recently and struggled not to envy it's pristine appearance and gorgeous decor. I am extremely happy for her and appreciative of her excellent taste. So why, even in the midst of my joy on her behalf, is it so easy to believe the lie?
Back in Philippians 4, Paul says, "I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want." He learned, through continual thanksgiving, to be content in all circumstances.
Once again, God does not qualify his statements. I either have or don't have. The quality of those provisions is never a matter of consideration. I don't get to complain because my curtains aren't as pretty as someone else's. It might be nice, but it is not a requirement for a happy home. I am not in want or in need. The reality is that I truly have plenty, plenty to be thankful for!
I have floors worn by the tread of many precious feet. I have walls marked by busy, curious, energetic little hands. I have furniture that holds our possessions and our bodies. I have a house that is loved and lived in. I'm reminded of Ron Weasley's humble comments when he brings Harry to their household for the first time, "It's not much. But it's home."
I would offer one caveat. It IS much. And I want to be mindful to give thanks for it, so I too may learn to be content!
201) the rounded belly of my baby boy, full with milk
202) the act of rolling over, another milestone
203) the spacious dining table, large enough for friends and family
204) the hugs shared between the older brothers and their younger siblings before school
205) the hammer-wielding three year old "fixing" protruding nails in our floorboards
206) the microwave that warms my beverage on chilly, winter mornings
207) the fading, dyed-red heels that graced my feet on prom night many years ago, giving my daughters such enjoyment today
208) the act of sitting unassisted, second developmental achievement in one day
209) the warmed, wooden planks under my bare-feet, absorbing sun through the windows
210) the granddaughter missing her Papa
211) the ornate, old buffet that holds all my discontinued Mikasa Richelieu china, purchased from an antique store
212) the sight of my children jumping gleefully on the couch together, before I made them stop
213) the comfort of wearing my husband's button-down shirt
214) the knowledge that God is sovereign over governments
215) the shelves that hold my many well-loved and well-worn books
216) the six frames on the playroom wall that display my children's works of art
217) the almost musical quality of a baby cooing
218) the bushes that become hiding places
219) the slide propped high on the Wheeping Cherry, made from the broken tree-house
220) the compost bin at the fallow garden's corner that will feed our seedlings and plants all spring and summer
221) the sandbox built by my husband's hands, scene of moats, castles, towers and mountains
222) the hole under the dogwood tree where the children dig and get dirty and imagine
223) the crystallized sweetness of dried pineapple
224) the picture of a woman in red with white-flowered bouquet
225) the monthly Book Club meeting tonight
Day 8- The Mean Girl
I'm learning that I need to fully, FULLY appreciate the people in my life and all that having them in my life brings. It's hard and convicting. I'm still thinking about Philippians 4 and how to practice grateful living, giving thanks in and for all things.
Verse 5 has continued to stick with me, "Let your gentleness be evident to all." And I am realizing something very nasty about myself. I have not been gentle or kind or loving to ALL. One of my coping mechanisms for dealing with daily stress and frustration has been to take my irritation out on our dog. To let her be my outlet, the surrogate receptor of my ingratitude, because I would never unleash the full brunt on my family.
I have not been hurtful to her, but neither have I been very loving or kind. Little things. Seeing her lazing the day away on the hot grate after my long, tiring day with little to no rest. An irritant. So, I make her move. No reason, other than I felt like it. Letting her sit on my husband's lap while we relaxed on the couch? No. He's mine! I've given and shared and poured myself out all day long. I don't want to share any more! So, I deny her, and she curled up on the floor.
I always knew it was selfish and petty, but I justified it. I characterized my actions as quirky or silly...even endearing! How could it NOT be sweet that I want my husband all to myself!? And look, I gave her a blanket to lay on! She's not cold, hungry or alone...just, not cared for.
The longer I pondered this scripture, the more the motivations of my heart were revealed. Hebrews 4: 12-13 says, "For the word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart. Nothing in all creation is hidden from God's sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give an account." And in truth, my thoughts and actions have been nothing short of mean-spirited.
I'm not one of those people who will ever feed her from the table or consider her my "fur-baby." I have six babies, who all need my love and attention. They take precedence. However, she does need more than just nourishment and shelter. She needs my fondness and care as well, a valued place in our family and, yes, sometimes a place on my lap.
God's word does not leave room for partiality. I don't get to pick and choose how or to whom I should be apply it. It simply admonishes, "Let your gentleness be evident to all." And the implications are far-reaching. If I am convicted to show more loving-kindness to my pet, how much more willing should I be to demonstrate kindness, gentleness and love to those that, for one reason or another, I find it difficult to get along with or whose opinions or background differ from my own!?
For now, I am finding that through this daily thanks offering, my heart is more full of gratitude than ingratitude and, as a result, I am more likely to pour out fruit of the Spirit, even to her. Hopefully, this fruit will continue to be evident, not only to those in my insular world, but to any and all I meet!
176) the Lord's protection over friends in a potentially dangerous and life-threatening situation
177) the privilege of lifting the needs of others up before the Father
178) the clean refrigerator, a labor of love from my husband
179) the warm, insulated laundry room
180) the fingers that can zip, button and snap
181) the exhaust tails from distant airplanes streaming across the clear sky
182) the bulbs peaking up through winter ground
183) the neighboring tree that just may be a "Whomping" Willow
184) the American flag flying full and majestic
185) the large, freely-given wardrobe
186) the quilt adorning my bed with crimson, blush and pale blue flowers on delicate vines
187) the ridges in my husband's collarbone, empty screw-holes, physical reminders of God's sovereignty in all circumstances
188) the pigtails, bouncing on my daughter's head as she runs
189) the trustworthy recommendations of friends
190) the Crock-pot, slowly and easily cooking our evening meal
191) the child's painted landscape in watercolor
192) the sweet, flavorful aroma of simmering tomato sauce
193) the elation on my son's face when we found his missing Monkey blanket
194) the way my baby reaches his little hands up to touch my face when I'm near
195) the comforting feeling of a warm mug in my hands
196) the slobbery baby-kisses all over my face
197) the sparkling concord grape juice, deep purple and bubbly in my glass
198) the smooth, clean-shaven face of my husband
199) the tall, dark red champagne flutes
200) the slow dance with my dear one, held close and swept up in the music
Verse 5 has continued to stick with me, "Let your gentleness be evident to all." And I am realizing something very nasty about myself. I have not been gentle or kind or loving to ALL. One of my coping mechanisms for dealing with daily stress and frustration has been to take my irritation out on our dog. To let her be my outlet, the surrogate receptor of my ingratitude, because I would never unleash the full brunt on my family.
I have not been hurtful to her, but neither have I been very loving or kind. Little things. Seeing her lazing the day away on the hot grate after my long, tiring day with little to no rest. An irritant. So, I make her move. No reason, other than I felt like it. Letting her sit on my husband's lap while we relaxed on the couch? No. He's mine! I've given and shared and poured myself out all day long. I don't want to share any more! So, I deny her, and she curled up on the floor.
I always knew it was selfish and petty, but I justified it. I characterized my actions as quirky or silly...even endearing! How could it NOT be sweet that I want my husband all to myself!? And look, I gave her a blanket to lay on! She's not cold, hungry or alone...just, not cared for.
The longer I pondered this scripture, the more the motivations of my heart were revealed. Hebrews 4: 12-13 says, "For the word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart. Nothing in all creation is hidden from God's sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give an account." And in truth, my thoughts and actions have been nothing short of mean-spirited.
I'm not one of those people who will ever feed her from the table or consider her my "fur-baby." I have six babies, who all need my love and attention. They take precedence. However, she does need more than just nourishment and shelter. She needs my fondness and care as well, a valued place in our family and, yes, sometimes a place on my lap.
God's word does not leave room for partiality. I don't get to pick and choose how or to whom I should be apply it. It simply admonishes, "Let your gentleness be evident to all." And the implications are far-reaching. If I am convicted to show more loving-kindness to my pet, how much more willing should I be to demonstrate kindness, gentleness and love to those that, for one reason or another, I find it difficult to get along with or whose opinions or background differ from my own!?
For now, I am finding that through this daily thanks offering, my heart is more full of gratitude than ingratitude and, as a result, I am more likely to pour out fruit of the Spirit, even to her. Hopefully, this fruit will continue to be evident, not only to those in my insular world, but to any and all I meet!
176) the Lord's protection over friends in a potentially dangerous and life-threatening situation
177) the privilege of lifting the needs of others up before the Father
178) the clean refrigerator, a labor of love from my husband
179) the warm, insulated laundry room
180) the fingers that can zip, button and snap
181) the exhaust tails from distant airplanes streaming across the clear sky
182) the bulbs peaking up through winter ground
183) the neighboring tree that just may be a "Whomping" Willow
184) the American flag flying full and majestic
185) the large, freely-given wardrobe
186) the quilt adorning my bed with crimson, blush and pale blue flowers on delicate vines
187) the ridges in my husband's collarbone, empty screw-holes, physical reminders of God's sovereignty in all circumstances
188) the pigtails, bouncing on my daughter's head as she runs
189) the trustworthy recommendations of friends
190) the Crock-pot, slowly and easily cooking our evening meal
191) the child's painted landscape in watercolor
192) the sweet, flavorful aroma of simmering tomato sauce
193) the elation on my son's face when we found his missing Monkey blanket
194) the way my baby reaches his little hands up to touch my face when I'm near
195) the comforting feeling of a warm mug in my hands
196) the slobbery baby-kisses all over my face
197) the sparkling concord grape juice, deep purple and bubbly in my glass
198) the smooth, clean-shaven face of my husband
199) the tall, dark red champagne flutes
200) the slow dance with my dear one, held close and swept up in the music
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Day 7-The Inconvenient Truth
I'm ashamed to admit that there are many days when sitting down to read books with my kids feels inconvenient. Helping them with a request is an intrusion into my daily routine. Sitting down to color or play or build keeps me from doing something...more important. As a mother, that truth about myself is an admission of the biggest kind of failure.
Delving into my thoughts on the use of time last week was just the tip of the ice burg. It was eye-opening to realize that in all my busyness to accomplish things with my allotted time, I was really wasting that most precious commodity. But the conviction didn't stop there. This was not just an issue of overlooking God's gifts to me in my daily haste. It was also an issue of my attitude toward those things and people who alter my plans. How much more awful it has been to realize how deep my selfishness goes. I pour out frustration rather than thankfulness when I feel my time, MY time, isn't being used well. But not only that...I pour out frustration on the things, and especially the ones, who get in my way. The truth about my heart is ugly.
I sat playing with daughter in the playroom Friday. It was fun! We laughed, and I was content. Then I was overwhelmed with the realization that, all too often, rather than truly enjoying these moments, I had to consciously suppress impatience. My breath caught in my throat, and I fought back tears. Even as we walked out the door together to cross the street to the preschool, these emotions of failure continued to flood over me.
And then, the dreariness of that overcast day was literally broken wide open with a burst of sunlight from behind the clouds. It poured over us, shining bright and golden and lighting the dark spaces of tree shadows on the grass, and my heavy heart was glad with thanks.
Deliberately making time for those moments was only half the equation. I could spend every waking moment with my children to the exclusion of all else, dirty dishes in the sink, laundry piled on the couch and crumbs littering the floor, but neither of us would be blessed by that interaction if I was seething inwardly with selfish ingratitude. I needed to go into every moment with a thankful heart. I not only needed a proper view of time but a fuller understanding of the way God uses people in my life...and the knowledge He might be pleased to use me in theirs. Then with all that enough time, as Ms. Voskamp calls it, I would not only fully take hold of God's gifts but also fully appreciate His means of grace to me.
How deep is the Father's love for me, an undeserving sinner, that He continues to heap blessing upon blessing into my life? Thank you, Lord, for shining light into my dark heart, for revealing the depth of my ingratitude and the hope of grace in Christ! Thank you for the sunshine and for my daughter's laughter. Make her into the woman I wish I was!
151) the additional half hour of sleep
152) the banter overheard between brothers
153) the clopping on wood of too-big shoes on little feet
154) the fingers brushing my cheek in a good-morning caress
155) the ring, once dull-finished, becoming more golden with age
156) the dimples at the back of my baby's chubby elbow
157) the tiny, inquisitive hand searching my face in exploration and familiarity
158) the ties that turn boys into handsome little men
159) the twisted tree standing alone in a field
160) the flowers dotting the barren landscape of the veteran's cemetery with color
161) the sun shimmering across the New River
162) the hay bales, round and big and orderly stacked against the pasture fence
163) the wise words of a godly woman
164) the tea bag brought from home to church by my husband for my refreshment
165) the voices in unison raising the chorus "Alleluia, grace like rain pours down on me"
166) the stained glass flower, mosaic of translucent color, on the sanctuary wall
167) the small town in which we reside, homey and familiar
168) the two sisters, playing and giggling together happily
169) the two pairs of feet hanging off the couch, one big, one small, side by side
170) the amateur wrestling match between father and son
171) the sweet smell of brown sugar permeating the kitchen
172) the old, claw-foot bathtub, reminiscent of my Grandma's house and nautical, whale-papered bathroom
173) the aroma of fresh-baked oatmeal bars
174) the weary child, heavy with approaching slumber, in my arms
175) the father and daughter gleefully whirling together in dance
Delving into my thoughts on the use of time last week was just the tip of the ice burg. It was eye-opening to realize that in all my busyness to accomplish things with my allotted time, I was really wasting that most precious commodity. But the conviction didn't stop there. This was not just an issue of overlooking God's gifts to me in my daily haste. It was also an issue of my attitude toward those things and people who alter my plans. How much more awful it has been to realize how deep my selfishness goes. I pour out frustration rather than thankfulness when I feel my time, MY time, isn't being used well. But not only that...I pour out frustration on the things, and especially the ones, who get in my way. The truth about my heart is ugly.
I sat playing with daughter in the playroom Friday. It was fun! We laughed, and I was content. Then I was overwhelmed with the realization that, all too often, rather than truly enjoying these moments, I had to consciously suppress impatience. My breath caught in my throat, and I fought back tears. Even as we walked out the door together to cross the street to the preschool, these emotions of failure continued to flood over me.
And then, the dreariness of that overcast day was literally broken wide open with a burst of sunlight from behind the clouds. It poured over us, shining bright and golden and lighting the dark spaces of tree shadows on the grass, and my heavy heart was glad with thanks.
Deliberately making time for those moments was only half the equation. I could spend every waking moment with my children to the exclusion of all else, dirty dishes in the sink, laundry piled on the couch and crumbs littering the floor, but neither of us would be blessed by that interaction if I was seething inwardly with selfish ingratitude. I needed to go into every moment with a thankful heart. I not only needed a proper view of time but a fuller understanding of the way God uses people in my life...and the knowledge He might be pleased to use me in theirs. Then with all that enough time, as Ms. Voskamp calls it, I would not only fully take hold of God's gifts but also fully appreciate His means of grace to me.
How deep is the Father's love for me, an undeserving sinner, that He continues to heap blessing upon blessing into my life? Thank you, Lord, for shining light into my dark heart, for revealing the depth of my ingratitude and the hope of grace in Christ! Thank you for the sunshine and for my daughter's laughter. Make her into the woman I wish I was!
151) the additional half hour of sleep
152) the banter overheard between brothers
153) the clopping on wood of too-big shoes on little feet
154) the fingers brushing my cheek in a good-morning caress
155) the ring, once dull-finished, becoming more golden with age
156) the dimples at the back of my baby's chubby elbow
157) the tiny, inquisitive hand searching my face in exploration and familiarity
158) the ties that turn boys into handsome little men
159) the twisted tree standing alone in a field
160) the flowers dotting the barren landscape of the veteran's cemetery with color
161) the sun shimmering across the New River
162) the hay bales, round and big and orderly stacked against the pasture fence
163) the wise words of a godly woman
164) the tea bag brought from home to church by my husband for my refreshment
165) the voices in unison raising the chorus "Alleluia, grace like rain pours down on me"
166) the stained glass flower, mosaic of translucent color, on the sanctuary wall
167) the small town in which we reside, homey and familiar
168) the two sisters, playing and giggling together happily
169) the two pairs of feet hanging off the couch, one big, one small, side by side
170) the amateur wrestling match between father and son
171) the sweet smell of brown sugar permeating the kitchen
172) the old, claw-foot bathtub, reminiscent of my Grandma's house and nautical, whale-papered bathroom
173) the aroma of fresh-baked oatmeal bars
174) the weary child, heavy with approaching slumber, in my arms
175) the father and daughter gleefully whirling together in dance
Day 6-The Time Turner
On Wednesday I took a few minutes of quiet to sit on the couch and snuggle with my baby. Normally, I would systematically and efficiently take care of business, the feeding, the diaper, putting him down to play and moving on to the first of many to-dos of the day. I don't have time to do it any other way.
Time. A big don't-have. I often joke to Mike that I need a time turner like Hermione Granger. On that day, I stopped. Made that moment deliberate. Searched for the goodness of God in it.
I slowed down and wrote about those moments. Then I spied the clock. Where had the time gone? Fifteen minutes until I walked the two to school and none were dressed! Rushing, rushing. Five minutes and two were still naked! We made it, down to the minute, but I herded them out the door still in my sleep pants, the lilac ones covered in a rainbow of butterflies. They didn't remotely pass for regular clothes. I felt the push. I gave up time on one thing for time on another, and it didn't feel like enough!
Later I took my toddler in my room and let her help me with my bed. A simple act but so against the grain. It took twice as long, not a "good" use of time. Usually, I would hurry to work around her, not work with her. But I did it, and she was delighted. We approached the pile of laundry together. She put on a pair of her brother's underwear, and we laughed. I even took a picture! One pair of pants folded, then she saw sparkling sunlight on the wall, refracted through our window in a beautiful way I'd never noticed before. She ran to it, wanting to touch it, so we did.
To my surprise, I checked the clock and discovered that the morning's time had flown by but, instead of feeling anxiety over the many things still left undone, I felt unfazed. I was baffled. I had done less than expected, but I felt as though I had accomplished more! What an amazing paradox! Seeing God's gifts to me takes time. It requires deliberate attention. Thankfulness is learned and cannot be rushed. It does not fit into a schedule. It does not fit neatly into a box. Contentment thrives where God's gifts in time are appreciated.
Then that afternoon began to slip away, back, back into the normal routine of busyness. I looked at the clock. I had just enough time between a feeding and a nap to finish the dishes. I scrubbed and rinsed. Only halfway done and I poked my head out of the kitchen to see if the baby appeared happy, entertaining himself. I was smote with guilt.
My husband always tells me, spend time with our children. THAT is your job. I love that he says this, and I believe he is genuine. But, I always think to myself, when will the things that NEED to be done, get done? After bedtime? Tomorrow?! We need clean dishes to eat on, clean clothes to wear, food to eat. It all has to be done some time! There never seems to be enough for everything, to accomplish the "urgent" and the "necessary." I separate the two because, I am realizing, the necessary and the urgent are rarely the same.
I talked myself into leaving the dishes half done. I began to leave the kitchen and spied the leaves accumulating under the cupboards, evidence of Tuesday's outdoor adventures. I grabbed the broom. This I could do quickly. I had time...I gave in and swept. I wished that I would not, even as I did it. Finally, I went out and picked up my baby and gathered two others, and we sat on the floor, reading books together.
It was a hard thing, making those choices throughout the day, and it grates on me to admit how hard. But I was, am, beginning to understand how to really "turn time." Not take it back, not make more, but turn it into that which is enough.
Thursday morning I found myself on the couch surrounded by four children reading more books. I looked around, surprised at myself. Was I not normally busy with something else at this time of the morning? But, for the life of me, I could not remember what I was supposed to be doing except exactly that. I looked down and smiled at my son's chubby little knees. Precious.
Every time I deliberately accept the time that I have as enough for what matters, I know I will have an opportunity to see another of God's blessings to me. All the minutiae of living will be attended to in due time. Indeed, as that day went on, I discovered that when I stopped rushing around chasing perfection and slowed down in performing, and enjoying, all the tasks that were really essential, there was plenty of time. Even more than I needed.
126) the whirring sound of air rushing up the central duct and passing through the grate
127) the tent of blankets completely obscuring our dining room table
128) the moment of stillness when an unwell child rests their head upon my chest for comfort
129) the way my daughter's little legs flail when she runs, free and with total abandon
130) the pieces of cereal in my daughter's hands zooming around in overlapping orbit until they collide and crumble
131) the blanket that soothes her hurts when her thumb cannot
132) the adornment of purple, my husband's favorite
133) the decadent taste of rich dark chocolate
134) the old bottle of aftershave, fragrant with memories
135) the fan that circulates the heat throughout the first floor
136) the silky drizzle of honey
137) the drooping, winter-barren limbs of our majestic Weeping Cherry sweeping over the yard
138) the strong scent of citrus as peel is pared from orange flesh
139) the unmatched enthusiasm of boys for a tale of heroics and adventure
140) the distant mountains rising up from the valley
141) the horizon haze where land meets sky
142) the clouds swiftly floating across my field of vision
143) the creamy yellow roses tipped pinky-rouge
144) the last loaf on the day-old bread cart
145) the rainbow, Covenant of Grace visible on earth
146) the beautiful lyrics, like my own heart-song
147) the triumphant child's first potty success
148) the meal appreciated by friends in need
149) the vast improvement in my son's reading ability
150) the deep blue eyes that wept on our wedding day and smiled with silent 'I love yous' every day since
Time. A big don't-have. I often joke to Mike that I need a time turner like Hermione Granger. On that day, I stopped. Made that moment deliberate. Searched for the goodness of God in it.
I slowed down and wrote about those moments. Then I spied the clock. Where had the time gone? Fifteen minutes until I walked the two to school and none were dressed! Rushing, rushing. Five minutes and two were still naked! We made it, down to the minute, but I herded them out the door still in my sleep pants, the lilac ones covered in a rainbow of butterflies. They didn't remotely pass for regular clothes. I felt the push. I gave up time on one thing for time on another, and it didn't feel like enough!
Later I took my toddler in my room and let her help me with my bed. A simple act but so against the grain. It took twice as long, not a "good" use of time. Usually, I would hurry to work around her, not work with her. But I did it, and she was delighted. We approached the pile of laundry together. She put on a pair of her brother's underwear, and we laughed. I even took a picture! One pair of pants folded, then she saw sparkling sunlight on the wall, refracted through our window in a beautiful way I'd never noticed before. She ran to it, wanting to touch it, so we did.
To my surprise, I checked the clock and discovered that the morning's time had flown by but, instead of feeling anxiety over the many things still left undone, I felt unfazed. I was baffled. I had done less than expected, but I felt as though I had accomplished more! What an amazing paradox! Seeing God's gifts to me takes time. It requires deliberate attention. Thankfulness is learned and cannot be rushed. It does not fit into a schedule. It does not fit neatly into a box. Contentment thrives where God's gifts in time are appreciated.
Then that afternoon began to slip away, back, back into the normal routine of busyness. I looked at the clock. I had just enough time between a feeding and a nap to finish the dishes. I scrubbed and rinsed. Only halfway done and I poked my head out of the kitchen to see if the baby appeared happy, entertaining himself. I was smote with guilt.
My husband always tells me, spend time with our children. THAT is your job. I love that he says this, and I believe he is genuine. But, I always think to myself, when will the things that NEED to be done, get done? After bedtime? Tomorrow?! We need clean dishes to eat on, clean clothes to wear, food to eat. It all has to be done some time! There never seems to be enough for everything, to accomplish the "urgent" and the "necessary." I separate the two because, I am realizing, the necessary and the urgent are rarely the same.
I talked myself into leaving the dishes half done. I began to leave the kitchen and spied the leaves accumulating under the cupboards, evidence of Tuesday's outdoor adventures. I grabbed the broom. This I could do quickly. I had time...I gave in and swept. I wished that I would not, even as I did it. Finally, I went out and picked up my baby and gathered two others, and we sat on the floor, reading books together.
It was a hard thing, making those choices throughout the day, and it grates on me to admit how hard. But I was, am, beginning to understand how to really "turn time." Not take it back, not make more, but turn it into that which is enough.
Thursday morning I found myself on the couch surrounded by four children reading more books. I looked around, surprised at myself. Was I not normally busy with something else at this time of the morning? But, for the life of me, I could not remember what I was supposed to be doing except exactly that. I looked down and smiled at my son's chubby little knees. Precious.
Every time I deliberately accept the time that I have as enough for what matters, I know I will have an opportunity to see another of God's blessings to me. All the minutiae of living will be attended to in due time. Indeed, as that day went on, I discovered that when I stopped rushing around chasing perfection and slowed down in performing, and enjoying, all the tasks that were really essential, there was plenty of time. Even more than I needed.
126) the whirring sound of air rushing up the central duct and passing through the grate
127) the tent of blankets completely obscuring our dining room table
128) the moment of stillness when an unwell child rests their head upon my chest for comfort
129) the way my daughter's little legs flail when she runs, free and with total abandon
130) the pieces of cereal in my daughter's hands zooming around in overlapping orbit until they collide and crumble
131) the blanket that soothes her hurts when her thumb cannot
132) the adornment of purple, my husband's favorite
133) the decadent taste of rich dark chocolate
134) the old bottle of aftershave, fragrant with memories
135) the fan that circulates the heat throughout the first floor
136) the silky drizzle of honey
137) the drooping, winter-barren limbs of our majestic Weeping Cherry sweeping over the yard
138) the strong scent of citrus as peel is pared from orange flesh
139) the unmatched enthusiasm of boys for a tale of heroics and adventure
140) the distant mountains rising up from the valley
141) the horizon haze where land meets sky
142) the clouds swiftly floating across my field of vision
143) the creamy yellow roses tipped pinky-rouge
144) the last loaf on the day-old bread cart
145) the rainbow, Covenant of Grace visible on earth
146) the beautiful lyrics, like my own heart-song
147) the triumphant child's first potty success
148) the meal appreciated by friends in need
149) the vast improvement in my son's reading ability
150) the deep blue eyes that wept on our wedding day and smiled with silent 'I love yous' every day since
Day 5-Evident to All
I stand in the kitchen and stare at the counter. No boys' lunchboxes deposited where they should be, waiting to receive food for the day. I sigh and think instead of the happiness of reaching for my husband in the early hours and finding him ready to hold me close, my first gift of the day.
For the most part, the mornings have been manageable this week. Sure, there are moments. The spills. The tantrums. The lamp knocked over again. The screaming, fighting siblings. The whining and pouting. The poop or spit up everywhere. Stop, you're into something you shouldn't be! I clean up one thing and turn around, MORE mess! I put out one fire and another springs up...but it takes one look at my baby to bring me back. I cannot help but offer thanks for the miracle of his presence. Then I look around, and I cannot help but see God's gifts there too. Then I see the beautiful smile on my toddler's face. I usually miss it as I cringe in frustration, extricating her from yet another curiosity gone wrong. I see my son's enthusiastic face as he happily entertains himself. I hear my daughter's happy voice as she hums along to another melody she's heard recently. I look out the window and see His creation. I see God's gifts everywhere, and they bring me back.
The afternoons, they're harder. The afternoon brings my older sons and husband home. All people whom I love SO MUCH...bringing compounded noise and energy. They collide with the fragile equilibrium over which I pretend to preside. I am tired, and there are more people for the same eyes and hands to contend with, which yields MORE mess, noise and conflict! In the midst of this and the aftermath of this, Philippians 4:5 comes back to me. "Let your gentleness be evident to all."
I haven't told my husband or my children about my list of thanksgiving. Because, I wonder if this thankfulness I am learning to cultivate in my heart through the continual prompting of the Spirit will not only draw me closer to the Lord but also bring about the bearing of all those other fruits which would be evident in my speech and actions without my ever having to explain myself. Evident to all.
Will my speech be more gentle, slow to anger, less defensive? Will my discipline be characterized by more patience and self-control? Will my husband notice that as I am filled with more gratitude, I complain less, that I see opportunities to be thankful where I would not have before? Will my every act as mother and wife and friend be filled with more genuine kindness and love? Will I have a deeper faith that grows both inwardly and outwardly?
I wonder if they will see it, if others will see it, the peace that I'm coming to feel when I am tempted, yet again, to lash out in another act of sinfulness. When my world, my world that I love, all comes clashing together, will they see that the Lord is my calm in the storm? I am thankful for all of the gifts He gives me in the morning AND in the evening, in the sunshine and in the rain. He is the one who calms the seas! He is sovereign over all this and more, every moment of my day. I am thankful for it, I search for it, and I desire that that thanks would be evident.
101) the middle-of-the-night hug, reached for and found in the darkness
102) the comforting softness of my memory foam mattress against me
103) the uninterrupted night's sleep
104) the too-long sleeves hanging down over my son's hands
105) the "Ta-Da!" issued triumphantly from my son's mouth as he buttons his own coat
106) the dark, gray clouds heavy with rain
107) the mist on my face, water condensed in air
108) the reading of a child's favorite book, with sound effects!
109) the abundance of food in my cupboards on the day when there usually isn't
110) the curtains glowing through with the light behind them
111) the sweet good-bye kiss from my daughter before she enters her classroom
112) the feet that dance
113) the conviction of the Holy Spirit
114) the sunshine pouring bright and golden over the grass as the clouds roll away
115) the greenish design on my Starry Midnight stoneware that hints of Celtic origins
116) the water running diagonally down the grooves in my griddle like so many rushing streams
117) the small hand of my daughter holding mine as she sits next to me while I feed her baby brother
118) the black and tan puppy head cocked inquisitively to the side
119) the couch pillows supporting my back while I nurse
120) the way my son remembered to remove his dirty shoes before running through the house
121) the smokey smell of the blazing fire pit seeping into the house
122) the flickering of orange flame fast engulfing a kindling tripod
123) the red-hot embers dancing away on the wind
124) the white-black crackle of charring bark
125) the old hard-cover, carry-on luggage that my toddler daughter moves back and forth across the kitchen as a stool, following my every move, so as to get the closest view of each stage in dinner's preparation
For the most part, the mornings have been manageable this week. Sure, there are moments. The spills. The tantrums. The lamp knocked over again. The screaming, fighting siblings. The whining and pouting. The poop or spit up everywhere. Stop, you're into something you shouldn't be! I clean up one thing and turn around, MORE mess! I put out one fire and another springs up...but it takes one look at my baby to bring me back. I cannot help but offer thanks for the miracle of his presence. Then I look around, and I cannot help but see God's gifts there too. Then I see the beautiful smile on my toddler's face. I usually miss it as I cringe in frustration, extricating her from yet another curiosity gone wrong. I see my son's enthusiastic face as he happily entertains himself. I hear my daughter's happy voice as she hums along to another melody she's heard recently. I look out the window and see His creation. I see God's gifts everywhere, and they bring me back.
The afternoons, they're harder. The afternoon brings my older sons and husband home. All people whom I love SO MUCH...bringing compounded noise and energy. They collide with the fragile equilibrium over which I pretend to preside. I am tired, and there are more people for the same eyes and hands to contend with, which yields MORE mess, noise and conflict! In the midst of this and the aftermath of this, Philippians 4:5 comes back to me. "Let your gentleness be evident to all."
I haven't told my husband or my children about my list of thanksgiving. Because, I wonder if this thankfulness I am learning to cultivate in my heart through the continual prompting of the Spirit will not only draw me closer to the Lord but also bring about the bearing of all those other fruits which would be evident in my speech and actions without my ever having to explain myself. Evident to all.
Will my speech be more gentle, slow to anger, less defensive? Will my discipline be characterized by more patience and self-control? Will my husband notice that as I am filled with more gratitude, I complain less, that I see opportunities to be thankful where I would not have before? Will my every act as mother and wife and friend be filled with more genuine kindness and love? Will I have a deeper faith that grows both inwardly and outwardly?
I wonder if they will see it, if others will see it, the peace that I'm coming to feel when I am tempted, yet again, to lash out in another act of sinfulness. When my world, my world that I love, all comes clashing together, will they see that the Lord is my calm in the storm? I am thankful for all of the gifts He gives me in the morning AND in the evening, in the sunshine and in the rain. He is the one who calms the seas! He is sovereign over all this and more, every moment of my day. I am thankful for it, I search for it, and I desire that that thanks would be evident.
101) the middle-of-the-night hug, reached for and found in the darkness
102) the comforting softness of my memory foam mattress against me
103) the uninterrupted night's sleep
104) the too-long sleeves hanging down over my son's hands
105) the "Ta-Da!" issued triumphantly from my son's mouth as he buttons his own coat
106) the dark, gray clouds heavy with rain
107) the mist on my face, water condensed in air
108) the reading of a child's favorite book, with sound effects!
109) the abundance of food in my cupboards on the day when there usually isn't
110) the curtains glowing through with the light behind them
111) the sweet good-bye kiss from my daughter before she enters her classroom
112) the feet that dance
113) the conviction of the Holy Spirit
114) the sunshine pouring bright and golden over the grass as the clouds roll away
115) the greenish design on my Starry Midnight stoneware that hints of Celtic origins
116) the water running diagonally down the grooves in my griddle like so many rushing streams
117) the small hand of my daughter holding mine as she sits next to me while I feed her baby brother
118) the black and tan puppy head cocked inquisitively to the side
119) the couch pillows supporting my back while I nurse
120) the way my son remembered to remove his dirty shoes before running through the house
121) the smokey smell of the blazing fire pit seeping into the house
122) the flickering of orange flame fast engulfing a kindling tripod
123) the red-hot embers dancing away on the wind
124) the white-black crackle of charring bark
125) the old hard-cover, carry-on luggage that my toddler daughter moves back and forth across the kitchen as a stool, following my every move, so as to get the closest view of each stage in dinner's preparation
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