What language do you speak?

The Witnesses

I was mowing the lawn the other day. Thinking about divorce. Not for me, of course. (No worries... Brett and I are happy and very much in love :) But I was thinking about marriage and how it ends in some situations. My thoughts went back to the starting point. The wedding. The celebrations, the party, the witnesses to something sacred. I had the thought that if so much fanfare was required to begin a life together that maybe there should be more to ending it. More than paperwork and dividing furniture. Not to say that its done flippantly. Not to say that their is no weight to the event in the minds of a couple.

My mind went back to the dinner table years earlier. Breaking the news of a divorce close to us to my girls. Ansley, having been the flower girl at the wedding, wanted to know if she would get to be the flowergirl at the divorce as well. How profound. Since she had been trusted as a witness to the beginning, she thought it perfectly logical that she would be there to witness the end, even if the party was a bit more somber. I had to explain that there would be no party this time.

So today as I walked the lawn, leaving tracks of freshly mowed grass in a striped pattern behind me, I pondered why we don't need witnesses for a divorce. I can see us dressed for a funeral, meeting at the courthouse to witness the death of something once beautiful. "It should be required!" my mind declared with resolve. Come along side the same two people in what is now their most needful time.

But then, the thunder of my thoughts quieted as I realized that there ARE witnesses to divorce....Far far too many witnesses. I realized that my life was a witness to divorce for many years. That the children of those who once loved each other continue to bear witness... for their entire lives in many situations. That their worth and security are forever marked by the judges stamp. Hearts are shaped and lives are lived with the impression that divorce leaves. How often when it comes time for their lives to bring about something beautiful they can only bear witness to that which they know. "he left" "she left" "the love left" "my home left" "my security left" "my worth left". How do you shape a life outside of witnessing that?

Silly to think that to witness divorce seemed so temporary in my mind; an event. To truly witness it is a permanent thing.

God, heal the witnesses as you continue to heal me. We can be more than what we've seen...but only in You.

I feel alive and fresh. Full of hope and purpose. Able to shut out the questions and shut down the fears. Days like today are the ones I live for.

School with my kids. The "serious" job of learning. The math and the spelling. Wrapping them like mummies because we're talking about Egpyt. Giggles and a wreckless use of toilet paper. Life is good.

I am writing.

I am writing.

Got nothing to say today but still want to practice the discipline of sitting here... fingers ready... typing. I am writing because I promised myself I would write. Because most gifts of dreams that we hope to make something of don't just flourish in those rare moments of divine inspiration, they grow in the agonizing moments of sheer determination and discipline. Am I right? Those muscles don't appear while sitting in the shower thinking "Boy, I should exercise." No, they come with the pain on the elliptical and the sweat in the gym. So, I'm here... exercising.

I'm having one of those "fat" moments. Not physically (though the gym wouldn't be a bad idea), but in my head. Those moments when you stare down at your stomach and think..."it's just no use." I'm staring at this keyboard thinking "its just no use. Lord, what have you given me to say. What can I say that hasn't been said a million times over. What's the point?"

Truth is, only He knows the point. Maybe that's the point. I don't know why He would want me to write but I know that He does. I know that I love it. Know that when He and I are done sifting through this part of the process... there will be something to show for it. It will have very little to do with me other than my finally letting go of my pride and my fear and my me-ness enough to let Him have His way with this life of mine. This talent of mine.

Right now its just one foot in front of the other for the sheer discipline of it. Sometimes you have to try to run before you realize just how out of shape you are.

Left

Right

Left. Right.

left right.

leftrightleftrightleftrightleftright...

Soon I'll be off and running.

Our newest family member

I know she's Ansley's pet... but I just love this Bunny! She lives in the laundry room and doing the laundry has never been so much fun! She keeps me company... as Mom's know, we spend quite a bit of time doing laundry!

Daddy Day

Some people hate April 15. Dreaded tax day and all that. I happen to love April the 15 because in my world, it is a reason to celebrate. Everyone gets to celebrate Christmas (if they choose to) and Mothers Day is there for everyone. Easter, Valentines, the list goes on and on. But Daddy Day belongs just to me and my Daddy. It is the day that I officially and forever more became his girl.

I always knew my story. I always new there was another "dad" out there somewhere. I never knew him and he never sought to know me. But I always loved hearing mom tell of how MY daddy hitch-hiked from North Carolina to Georgia to be with her after I was born. I remember her telling me that just a few weeks into their relationship, he called me "his" baby. One daddy left but God gave me someone better in his place.

I struggled with this part of my life for years. I felt it shaping my heart and I wanted to fight it...to struggle against it and yet I didn't know how. Despite a loving father who kissed me on the forehead every morning before work and came home to play with us each night, the hole in my heart felt so big. I lacked for nothing. But still there was that whisper in my heart that I had been left and never sought after and try as I might to overcome that, it shaped my heart.

It wasn't till I was an adult, tidying up at my parents home that I found and really studied the adoption papers. I had seen them in earlier years but never really studied them. It was in that moment that all of the healing God had done over the course of my life, all of the steady love, steering guidance and faithful friendship that Dad had poured into me for so long truly absorbed into my heart and closed up any hole that had been there. I read those formal words and they jumped out at me. They etched on my heart and burned into my soul "...that on this day April 15, 1977..." so official. Like God's hand reached from His seat down to earth and stamped His seal on the document and on my spirit. Something real and physical change inside me. I felt that in that moment I couldn't possibly be any more his. In that moment, I fell in love with my Daddy and thanked the Lord that He never let me suffer unloved.

I resolved then that I would mark this day each year. Because this is the day that God changed the course of my life. This is the day I became the daughter of the greatest man I know. The apple of his eye and the joy of his heart.

Thank you, Daddy. Happy Daddy Day.

Sandy childhood

I sit on the sand and watch the kids play in the waves. I read in the shade as they splash in the pool. I pull weeds or read as they jump giggling on the trampoline. We have a shelf full of games that I am so reluctant to play.

When did I start observing their childhood instead of diving into it with them? How could I, a homeschool mom devoted to being with her family end up mising it? Of course there are times when we cook or sew and school is always "together" but, today as I sat contently on a towel at the beach, safe from sandy childhood, I wondered how the girls would look back at my interaction with them. Would they remember that I created great moments for them and sat as they enjoyed them or that I jumped at the opportunity to enjoy those moments with them? Will the remember me for instruction more than fun? Will they remember a smile on my face?

It is true that I am the Great Facilitator. I make hobbies and memories and events and education happy for other people. I think that is why I have felt content to sit back and observe. "My work here is done. I deserve a rest."

I am not beating myself up. I know that I give and expend and I think I do a good job with my children. I think that they feel loved and appreciated and valued. I know that I need time to pursue things that are valuable to ME. ( more to come on that)

But it has been nagging at me that I am missing opportunities to be with my girls, not just around them. So I am asking God to change my heart. To give me a passion that wants to jump out of my chair and put myself in the picture with them. To make sure that they see my desire to be with and enjoy them. To do more than just facilitate their childhood.

So today, I jumped up. I caught periwinkles in the sand as the waves washed back out. I dug a hole and let it fill so that my oldest could enjoy a temporary pool. I buried both girls neck-high in the sand and all the while we giggled and chatted and were really together. I didn't come away from that time anymore physically tired than if I had sat and read the whole time and my heart felt full and joyful because of my effort.

They were amazed by me and I was amazed by them. I think I take the time to wonder at their uniqueness, but maybe I don't let them in close enough to let them wonder at me. I was ashamed that they were so charged by my involvement. That nagging feeling had been right, I was missing it and they were missing me.

I resolved today to be a mom of action, of fun. Of joining in and getting sandy. Of savoring every moment. Of being close, not just close by.