kids.

Storms.

I first heard the thunder while separating whites from darks in the quiet depths of the house.  Stopping for a moment to assess the severity of the storm approaching, I shake it off and quickly resume the task at hand.  Screams cut through my musing, twist knob, thick liquid glugs, lid closes, my feet hit the stairs.  I had heard it sounds like a freight train coming before it engulfs all life within it's path, no conscience, the least is destroyed along with the most esteemed.  Reaching the landing I take in the full scope of damage.  Will our insurance be enough?  What can realistically be replaced?   Most importantly, how Lord?!   How, can three kids who were moments ago watching Sponge Bob happily on the floor, HOW can they completely destroy not only the house but themselves in such a seemingly short expanse of time?!  One load, that's all I needed to put in.  Walk away and the gates of Hades open up, demons jump off furniture, one arming the nearest presumed foe.  Heads collide, rug burns sting, tears streak through freckles.  I sigh.   Scooping up the wounded sprites we sit in silence, calm, sssshhhhhhhhh.  I'm counting.  They smell like sausage and play-doh. Small hands pick up.  Cartoons no longer a privilege of the day.  I hear the dryer stop, a plea-prayer lifts up as I'm once again drawn under. Morning.

Blessings.

It's pretty easy to look around at my life and count the ways God continually blesses me when all is well. In a week wracked with sickness upon sickness my vision admittedly becomes a bit clouded. "One Thousand Gifts" was delivered the same day my doctor gave me a mega-dose of antibiotics to kick the sinus/strep infection invading my head. I didn't know when I ordered it that I would be practically bedridden and able to power through the pages in two days. As always, God provides. I found I was blessed this week with not only modern medicine that can kick misery out the door but a doctor with enough foresight to prescribe an antidote to the side-effects of that mega-dose (I'll trust all my female friends understand).

I was blessed last night with a mystery package of Hostess Donuts when I unpacked my groceries. I trust the man that was in line in front of us isn't feeling the same blessing. But this morning when the two woke up to daddy and brother gone, those circles of powdery goodness eased sleepy longings to be any where other than home.

We were more than blessed to have my husband be able to see his grandfather before he went to his final home, free to attend his service today without any I wish I had's.

There will be more sickness to heal and more funerals to attend. Life continues, if not here than on the other side. Snow falls unexpectedly mid-February, best friends belly laugh in the tub, the warmth of coffee in a mug given by a friend. The weekend beckons.

Nine.

"I want to do something"
That's always how it starts, those olive eyes staring up at me expectantly. Maybe this time, this time she'll drop everything and we'll all jet off to Disneyland. Not so much.

"So do something" goes my well thought out, deeply empathetic response. The woes of a child, plans to build a trap to catch fish in a river we do not own, nor are we going to anytime soon, dashed. A fort then. Every step planned, each move a reason, right, wrong, black, white. The oldest child wrestles with the injustices of each moment, gladiator puts up his shield while swinging blindly at the invisible foe.

Calm boy.

I'm reminded we're almost done. We've been charged with raising this one and we're at the half. His 9th birthday came and left, cake eaten, wrapping paper strewn. A mother's heart senses the change. We've peaked the mountain but no downhill coast lies ahead. Is the first nine really the decent? Baby is born, love flows, songs soothe, kisses heal. Too many memories now. Suckers no longer stop the tears, he knows it will hurt and what pain feels like. Cowlicks stick up randomly on bedhead, one of my first gifts. He asks me to cut the quesadilla he prepared while he pours his soup, the list of not allowed to do's diminishing every day. The tongue sharpens as his odor grows, the voice to soon deepen. I smile as he plays keep away from the zhu zhu's racing on the floor, still such a child.

Listening

I like to think I'm a good listener but I guess our views of ourselves are admittedly a bit one sided. Two years ago I wrote a similar post about feeling the need to give up the computer for a while and when I rethought that decision my computer crashed and a forced fast begin. Well, I may be two years older but certainly not two years wiser. Once again the call to set aside my computer time overcame me and yet once again I dismissed it. Pretty sure you can guess the outcome, our computer died. Again. This time it wasn't an easy fix and I've been offline for a solid month. I tried once to use a friends computer to order a yarn fix and not so amazingly, the order never shipped, never got billed, simply never existed. I was to be on a fast whether I wanted to or not.

What I learned on Summer Vacation...alternate title: When God smacks you upside the head it's because he's trying to tell you something.

Listen to me. That's pretty much it. I actually did a devotion about it at our MOPS group but it's hard to convey it all in a short time. I'm getting good at turning to Him. Really good at talking to Him. But actually taking the time to listen, not so much. I knew beyond a shadow of doubt when I was suppose to coordinate our MOPS group. Now I know I'm supposed to be done. What I didn't know is then what? I can anticipate and I can speculate but I didn't have a clue to what he was telling me. Because I wouldn't listen. After I finally formulated that He simply wanted my attention, after it really sunk in, He let me know the what. I'm not going to question the how, summer vacation reminded me the Creator of the Universe controls that just fine. Proverbs 1:33, but whoever listens to me will dwell safely, and will be secure, without fear of evil.