That’s me.
*Sometimes known as women of a certain age. You can never be quite certain what that age is, but believe me when I tell you, it’s old enough to know a lot of things other people don’t and young enough to enjoy it.
I remember your belted, fit and flare house dresses while you mopped and ironed. I recall your pin curls and pony-tails and flats and when you first tried pantyhose, the revolutionary invention that saved you from a life of daily girdling.
Last November. My mom was telling me how perfect that leaf was.
I recall huge family Sunday dinners and the one piece of chocolate cake always missing from the corner – the way you rewarded yourself for having to get up and cook at 5 am on Sundays, go to Sunday School, then church, then drive lots of people home, then come home and feed us, then get us all back to church for the YPE and Junior choir before Sunday night service. You deserved every crumb of that chocolate cake corner, mamala.
You followed pops from church to church and city to city and made a potato dish at every single meal until Louisiana when you finally learned the right way to make rice, too.
You combed our my tangles an helped me finish cleaning my room because I always thought it meant a total reorganization and in-depth re-do and in my emotional collapse when the job took forever, you would start showing me how close I was to done – and I’d just sit there smiling, while you finished it. You saved me.
Mom was learning the art of a selfie.
You played the piano and taught me all the important songs every child should know like, “Well, it’s a highway to heaven,” and “Jesus on the mainline-tell Him what you want.”
And when I started choosing my own music, you so lovingly learned each one by ear and playing it in my invariably low-voiced key and you’d add harmony and oh, I miss singing with you, mommiekins!
You’re such a nice person – everyone wanted you for a mom. So many people all over the nation and probably in the nations where you have traveled and loved on people, too, love the Norma! But you really are my mom. And after losing several babies before me and having the doctors say you may never be able to carry to term (boy, were they wrong!), I love knowing how very much you looked forward to my arrival and how very glad you were to have me, 23 hand-sewn dresses as proof awaiting me…and 8 boys outfits, just in case.
Not long before Grandpa died, you were there, loving him, brightening his final days with fun and songs
The one life’s regret you have shared with me, in a life you have loved and embraced with gusto, is your sadness at not understanding your own mom and not being there for her, not “having time.” And I really think you were a wonderful daughter and she thought so, too. But it has helped me reflect a little more on what matters and hanging out with you is a big deal to me. You have shown honor to your mom, your stepmom and your dad, all gone now, and I am set on repaying you for it, so grateful for the chance.
Just a couple of years later, not long before she died, you were there, singing Grandma’s favorite songs to her. She was your stepmom, and you loved her for “stepping in” with so much love.
So many ways I love you and miss you, but my most recent memories are becoming my favorites. Because I laugh with you more than anyone else. You are hilarious and strong, and innocent and guileless, and silly and ornery and just plain lovely. You are the lasso queen and kick dad and me in the butt in corn-hole. You are pretty cool, it turns out. Happy Mother’s Day to the BEST there ever was! Still is!
I have learned from each of you what grace under pressure looks like, what being great wives looks like. I see you each as such able, creative, successful business women and good-hearted ministers of grace. You please God, you wow others, you serve and love your families. And oh-my-goodness, you are just drop-dead-gorgeous, inside and out!
That is why, I have no doubt, God entrusted the 9 grandbebes to you, because He knew he could count on you to be who He called you to be and do what he called you to do in their lives. No small order. But you all four, Tara, Stephie, Dessa and Jovan – you are all doing it with such beauty, energy, zealousness and panache! I am so proud of all of you, so inspired my your lives. REALLY!
Ok-so I wrote this in 2007 and never shared it because it sounds like one of those e-mail forwards people used to send around. But I am emptying out my drafts folder and this is definitely the oldest one. And, it made me laugh because it was based on the true story of a certain period of my life, in its’ own metaphorical way. And I could you tell exactly where every one of these locales exists!
So, after 6 1/2 years, don’t be hating. Let me have my fun!
I had moved into the sagging house on Agony Avenue, just southeast of the Sorrow Circle and Heartsick Street intersection, when I pondered how many of my belongings I’d lost at my last house on Baggage Boulevard. I hadn’t wanted to leave there, I had been kicked out unmercifully by a demanding landlord, but the widening of Woe-is-Me Way and the incoming Melancholy Mall development were forcing me to move on, anyway. I hoped my time on Agony Avenue was temporary.
I wasn’t about to forget my stuff, though, so I headed right back to the old home place. To get there I needed to hop on Heartbreak Highway and get off on the Teary-eyed Turnpike, but I ended up having to take a detour on Burdened Bend which got me lost and absolutely stuck on Wounded Way, which is a completely dead-end street. I thought turning onto Pity Path would get me out, after all, I’d been here so many times I should have known it like the back of my hand, but I ended up hopelessly lost on Blame Lane.
A Truth Taxi happened by and the driver told me he could get me home, but there wasn’t room for my lost stuff, only what I was carrying and that Baggage Blvd. was under construction, anyway. So I asked him to take me back home, my home on Agony Avenue. Hopeless, I figured there were just things I had lost that I would never get back.
As I turned from watching my old neighborhood fade from view, I saw the Truth guy was taking me a way I had never been.
He turned north on Peace Parkway, and though Rage Road looked like a major thoroughfare , he told me it was too dangerous, the traffic heavy at all hours and wise to avoid it like the plague whenever possible.
At Joy Junction, I saw a sign “This way to Forgiveness Point.” I asked the Truth Taxi guy if we could stop there for just a minute or two. He parked at the entry, where the Comfort Creek waters had risen and were covering the Burden Bridge, leaving me no option but to slosh through.
I was surprised the path up Healing Hill to the Forgiveness Point wasn’t any easier. It took a lot of effort, but I was compelled. I ended up having to leave all the things I was carrying on the side of the road, one by one. But when I got to the top, the air was fresh, the sunlight sparkled, the breeze was gentle and my heart was light.
When I spotted a ‘for sale’ sign on a beautiful home in Righteousness Roundabout, I was surprised to see the Truth Taxi man there ahead of me, somehow. He was removing the sign and handing me keys. “It’s yours,” he said, “I already paid for it.”
Home. Where I always belonged.
“He drew me up out of a horrible pit [of tumult and of destruction], out of the miry clay (froth and slime), and set my feet upon a rock, steadying my steps and establishing my steps as I walked along.” Psalm 40.2
“you’re my first born child, and the person who first showed me the miracle of this love a mother has for her child. ” ~Elizabeth Noble, Things I Want My Daughters to Know
EldeenAnnette.com
I know where I was at this exact minute, on this day in history in 1979. I know how I spent the day. I remember everything leading up to its’ culmination at 7:16 pm from my waking thought at exactly 5:55 am, just before the alarm would go off.
What was that? Am I in labor? Eyes widen, fully awake!
Thirty-five years ago at this exact time, I was being born. Me – this mother, now grandmother part of me was laboring to be, to become. I was shedding the skin of childhood and girlishness and self-focus and passing through the purifying pain of labor and delivery. I was walking a pathway to an unknown and unknowable destination. I was giddy and excited, scared and alone. I trembled with each deep, slow breath.
A girl woke up alone at 5:55 am, pregnant, filled with life {potential}. At 7:16 pm, she was born – a mommy, a full-grown woman. They placed this perfectly round-shaped, blond-fuzzy-headed baby girl into her arms, the fruit of her labors, a tiny baby girl was born {potential}, too. Now they were two.
“when — naked, soaked in sweat and blood, and a heart thumping from a marathon — you are squeezing onto your bosom ‘the whole universe wrapped in harmony with your soul’ and realize that this is the tiny body of your own baby. Mytyr, Mana, Mater, Muter, Madre, Mother, Mamma, you are the circle of life; heaven and earth pass through you.” (Eleftheria Mantzouka)
Thirty-five years she has walked this earth, which is hard to believe when you look at her, overwhelmingly stunning, her spontaneous smiles so youthful, so nineteen! It’s the celebration of Tara, it’s her birthday! Her arrival changed everything! The entire course of my existence was altered right there on the spot. This is a bit of her story, her glorious entry, as I recall it.
When I’d arrived at the hospital, just 30 minutes before she was born, I was {quite unknowingly} in deep, transitional labor, my entire focus on cooperating, breathing, bringing my baby forth. I asked the ER attendant to wait before wheeling me upstairs.
“Oh honey. You’re never gonna make it, ” the sassy girl said. “You’re going to be in labor for at least 20 hours and if you’re acting like this now, you’re never going to make it.”
I had never wanted to hit some one so badly in my life (transition!), but I was on a mission to birth a baby. I closed my eyes to shut her pointless babble out and breathed, {inhale} in through my nose, slowly, to maintain some control, {exhale} out through my trembling lips.
She rolled me onto the elevator and her negativity became a drone, the sound of the “adults” on Peanuts cartoon specials, like unseen teachers talking to Charlie Brown, “Wah-wah-wah-WAH-wah-wahhh.”
Could she not see that I was bringing forth perfection – and soon?
In their defense, apparently hospitals work with first-time moms who freak a little too soon in the game, but I’d been laboring, working hard for this since 5:55 am.
I was wheeled into the laboring room at about 6:50-something, given one of those magnificent gowns to don and left to my devices. I swayed, I breathed, I called this baby (boy? girl – my secret dream?) forth. I braced myself for 20 hours of this hard work, my reasonable service.
When nurses returned a few minutes later, they were surprised to find that my royal child, this gift of God, was ‘crowning.”
MayDae.com
“The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new.”
She was born at 7:16 pm, just about a half hour after we’d pulled up to the hospital doors and no one there really had anything to do with it. It was me, my baby and the God of the Universe. The Creator – He was there, having just applied the finishing touches on a life so uniquely formed and perfect, His own (full and complete) delight splashed all over her, perfuming the air with His very Presence, His absolute love. I inhaled the scent of the heavenlies from the top of her tiny head.
Alone with my baby a little later in a dimly lit room, this exquisite girl-child and me, she slowly opened and closed fawn-shaped eyes. The holiness of the moment, of the realization of the redemptive work of God and His total love lie swaddled securely in my arms, as irrefutable proof of Him. He was here – He was with me, for me. Proof!
I’d awoken a girl, filled with questions and wonder and trepidations. I was going to sleep, having been ushered through the courtyards of the Lord, arms and heart filled, into motherhood. A daughter!
I am ashamed to admit I still sometimes struggle to truly, really, wholly trust God. That is terrible. Especially because He has actually completely shown His trust in me – 5 times!
Do I even need to tell you that a gift from God is good? That He gives beauty for ashes, a garment of praise instead of a spirit if despair? Do I need to remind you? And He sent the healing oil of joy for mourning. Our good friend once called Tara, “Liquid joy.” And it’s true, because oil is poured out and nothing it touches is ever the same.
The enemy tried to take her from me once {from God’s great plan for her life}, but the full-force of heaven stood with a mom, born that day, May 9, 1979, who said, “Give. my daughter. back!” And what could hell do but whimper sheepishly away?
MayDae.com
You have grown up to become a compassionate, loving woman. People are drawn to your smile, your sincerity, and your gentleness powered by strength. You are a star in the darkest of nights and a voice for your generation. You’re a wonderful mommy, the fun-nest kind and such a devoted wife. Your house, all interesting and textural and colorful and serene absolutely looks like you. The lyrics are in you, the melody pours forth sweetly, and you, my most darling and beloved first-born, are such treasure on the earth, let alone to me.
And baby girl, I can tell you this about God’s gift of you to me, for these words could not be truer in any situation,
“Now to Him Who, by the [action of His] power that is at work within us, is able to [carry out His purpose and] do superabundantly, far over and above all that we [dare] ask or think [infinitely beyond our highest prayers, desires, thoughts, hopes, or dreams]—To Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations forever and ever. Amen (so be it).” Ephesians 3.20-21 Amp.
And so, as your momma, you need to understand how desperately I pray this for you. And how deeply I KNOW God is hearing you and your heart’s cry.
And because I witnessed your birth, felt you emerge straight from the hidden place where the Hands knitting you together delivered you into my arms and into your bright-light existence, because I understood His delight and joy in having created you and written your story, I KNOW He hears you now and that this same God, His power at work in you (in your heart, in your body, in your womb, in your reproductive system) is able and will carry out His purpose so far beyond anything you even dare to ask or think or imagine or wish or hope.
Beyond your highest and most powerful prayers or your wildest dreams, infinitely more than you may even have the courage to ask or think, God can do anything, anything.
It’s not too late, my Tara-girl. And I once fought hell over you. So believe me when I tell you, I am believing, petitioning, agonizing, asking, reminding and staying put before the throne for you, for your life, for your deepest, wildest dreams to come true. Because I was born that day, too. And this is what mommies do.
God has given you so much love in three adoring fellas. From you to them, from them to you. But you have more to give, more love, more joy. So sing, sing in the Spirit and with the understanding. I’m joining in your song {Tara’s song}. Let’s see what will happen. :)
Been planning some excitement for us, I guess?
Crazy weather here. Saw a bunch of tornadoes pass through yesterday, had to pray for our eastern-plains of Colorado peeps who were banished to the basement for two hours in the height of it.
Got lots of hail. Lots! It was so loud on the roof of Chili’s last night!
More crazy today. Cold, brrrrr….rainy. And it looks like my Mother’s Day trail riding by horse in Estes Park will have to be postponed due to the 70% chance of snow they have going up there, plus a high of 37-degrees. *sigh.
My mom was in her mid-fifties before I actually knew her as a person. Before then she was my mom, my mom. Then, I realized she was a woman with hopes and dreams and passions and interests and that all of it had been on hold until then – because of family and church and ministry and life and obligations. Which she did fully willingly! And then…
I like her so much. I mean, yes, I love her deeply. I still hope I’ll be more like her before the end. But I also just like her as a person. Her beginnings were kind of rough. But this baby (pictured below) turned the frowns upside down, trusted God and has made so many people smile.
Here she is, all madly in love with my dad. He has been the lucky recipient of her deep devotion and zealous love for 57-58 years now.
My mom loves all creatures great and small. She really loves her horses. She became a professional horse photographer in her mid-fifties!
She was once given the nickname “Abnormal Norma.” And I guess if by “abnormal” you mean uncommon, exceptional and unexpected – then yes. She is abnormal. She is abnormally sweet and longsuffering, she is abnormally forgiving and understanding. She is abnormally optimistic and energetic for a woman of 76, or any age, really.
When we get together, we laugh. It is what we do. We laugh and until we are weak. And we do ridiculous things like this:
I consider it my mission to make sure she gets all the laughter that was allotted to her in life, even though the first 10-12 years had some really hard, laughter-stealing things.
Tara planted her first boxes this year and Ryan is going to garden, too! Gavin is the old-pro by now. It’s going to be exciting as we all not only grow our own, pesticide-free goodies, but exchange recipes when we have certain crops coming out our ears!
Dave is supposed to be building me some brand new tomato boxes today, *ahem! I do not hear the hammer going.
Square Foot Gardening, people! Mel knows EVERYTHING! If you want to grow any edibles at all, please buy the book (or check it out from the library): All New Square Foot Gardening by Mel Bartholomew. I was a total city girl who thought I would never want to garden, but this book, written with concise explanations by an engineer, explains all you need to know!
While it seemed widely favored on both sides of the political aisle, I am disheartened that the Senate Appropriations committee voted 4-3 to kill House Bill 1036 Felony DUI for Repeat Offenders.
Fran Lanzer from MADD talked to us about it at the fashion show last week. Our fingers were crossed, but then this:
“For two fundamental reasons, I cast a ‘no’ vote,” said Sen. Mary Hodge, D-Brighton, chairwoman of the Senate Appropriations Committee. “First, I think more emphasis needs to be put on addressing the disease of alcoholism and not us locking people up. Second, the bill was changed to take effect next year. Because of that, I think next year’s appropriations committee should address it.”* from The Denver Post
I am perturbed by this, so I shouldn’t say much. To me, it sounds lazy and weak – a failure in the courage it takes to address a complex issue. By saying, “I think the emphasis needs to be put on addressing the disease of alcoholism and not us locking people up,” Mary Hodge has simply passed the buck instead of the bill. Because “addressing the disease of alcoholism” is going to finally, fully happen – when? Right. Sometime in the future.
*Read more: Measure to create felony DUI in Colorado rejected by Senate Democrats – The Denver Post http://www.denverpost.com/politics/ci_25710804/measure-create-felony-dui-colorado-rejected-by-senate#ixzz31A24CApz
When she was in pre-school, her fav song was “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” by Wham!and I came across this Pomplamoose version the other day. Much pretty-colored hair and reminded me of the girl who made me a mommy.
Be sure to come back tomorrow and read my love-letter and blessing to my darling daughter, whom I have loved beyond my ability to express for 35 years.
He finished it. He did what needed done!
Tomorrow is the fashion show benefit. 100% of the ticket sales will go to Mothers Against Drunk Driving. But the tickets are so low-priced it is only a drop in the bucket for MADD.
I’ve learned a few things about MADD since we started this project 3 months ago.
I found out MADD was founded by a mom whose daughter was killed by a drunk driver. I don’t know if anyone in the world could have foreseen how much impact this amazing woman made by turning her sorrow into change.
MADD leads the way for legislation that protects victims and survivors of drunk and drugged driving in our nation. In fact they make it easy to send emails and letters to our own legislators and help you know how to Take Action {click here}. But more than that, MADD also supports drunk and drugged driving victims and survivors at no charge, serving one person every 8.6 minutes through local MADD victim advocates and at 1-877-MADD-HELP.
So I am so happy to be participating to benefit an organization like MADD. It’s a fashion show with more than clothing at its’ heart. Because at the heart of it you find the title sponsor, Eldeen Annette, Ellie, as I call her. She is a talented photographer who takes a group of high school kids each year and by making them her studio “models,” affords them the opportunity to experience numerous photo shoots in a variety of settings during their senior year.
And this year she added to the experience by putting on a fashion show. The students sold the tickets to benefit MADD and they will also walk the runway in spotlights and fun clothes, ending in their prom dresses and suits and get to have stylists and pampering and fun! Isn’t that nice of Eldeen Annette Portraiture?
So, yes, I guess you could say it’s just a fashion show, but I have had a blast working on it, from securing the venue to selecting the songs to shopping the stores, to recruiting volunteers. And I have high hopes for it. When all is said and done
For my longsuffering friends and familia who so lovingly and willingly said, “Sure, I’ll help,” #BESTILLMYHEART! You are amazing and lovely. Thank-you for trusting me with portions of your life. Doing cool things together is part of what makes the time we live and love sweeter.
The SOE and script are complete, the songs o-so-carefully chosen and timed out, the marketing done, the clothing sorted on racks, high heels lined up. Gift bags with many cool goodies, stuffed…A fast and furious fashion show is about to happen…
So, two words: fashion show. But many, many hopes for it to be much-more + fun… :)
This was a few weeks ago. When we discovered we could cut insulation foam with a jigsaw, a JIGSAW, people. We have usually used various knives and of course the foam-cutting melting things (the pointy craft-store type, and the men’s tool-shop-knife type).
But, yes – an electric jigsaw has now been added to the repertoire. It totally cuts nice, crisp edges – if the jig-saw person pays attention. Mine did pretty darn well!
I was having fun with the negative space. It’s the little things.
Now-my friend, Pearl is the QUEEN of turning insulation foam into works of art. I keep telling her she should write a book. Pearl can make anything out of foam. I hounded her plenty in the making of this display! I only wish now I had made it bigger, but it is 8-foot wide, total, and about 30-32″ tall…something like this from a certain poster, which may or may not have an informative website www.EldeenAnnette.com…as the inspiration:
I used this image above and enlarged it on Publisher to my desired size, printing a pale “draft” copy. I Scotch-taped the letters together and used carbon paper to draw the outlines onto the 2″ insulation foam.
Leave the plastic coating on while you cut to protect the foam a little. You can peel it off when you’re done cutting.
I acquired a man with a jigsaw (my husband), who was highly suspicious of the whole project and wasn’t sure it would work. (It did).
After cutting, peel off the plastic coating to paint, latex only (not spray paint, it will melt the foam) or not if you’re covering it, anyway. Use very fine sandpaper or a nail file to smooth edges and then finish as desired – a very lightweight, but massive-looking display!
Since then it may or may not have gotten a very thick covering of gold glitter and may find itself suspended above a display table in the lobby at The Armory Performing Arts Center on May 1st. (It did. And it will).
And – I only had time for these two words today! :)
I believe that! This sphere, in all its amazing splendor, beauty and creativity – ALL a gift of the creative imagination and infinite ability of the Maker of heaven and earth.
Oh how I wish we were taking better care of it, being better stewards, enjoying His creation like we should, and really – could.
I just read this blog early this morning and LOVED it! The writer referenced Isaiah 11.9, which is a favorite-favorite-hope-filled scripture!
For the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord
As the waters cover the sea.
The sun is shining here in Denver today. The grass is brilliant spring-green and the skies are blue with puffy white clouds. The shrubs are flowering. And the dandelions have once again blanketed the nearby fields, not to mention how they are traipsing boldly right down the block in this HOA-protected neighborhood, with great glee as if they weren’t sternly chased out last year. *sigh Must be Earth Day! Happiness.
Hard to believe, but true – in my lifetime, I have known Christians who have resisted things like “Earth Day,” allowing it to be spoiled by supposed political associations or some fear of earth-worship.
Psshhhht, people. The earth is His. “Bless the beasts and the children” and get on board today by thanking the Creator and Maker of all the incredible, life-sustaining beauty in the earth! He has surrounded us with His very glory, this Great God of ours!
Please get them outside often, out-of-the-city on purpose when you can (read the aforementioned blog post to see why – I know you’ll want to, then). Teach them to lie in green grass and watch clouds and to run barefoot, plunge their hands in to black soil for planting, get muddy, splash in puddles, go where there is no cell signal and listen to birds chirp, throw rocks into creeks and rivers, and yell really loudly where no one can hear. Give them Psalm 23 experiences for their body and soul’s health.
And you, too, my sweets. You get out of the city and go where you can see a million stars in the night sky and hear nothing but the beating of your own hearts – just long enough to regain your bearings.
“He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
he refreshes my soul.” Psalm 23
It’s probably because I have been collecting songs for the fashion show. And high-energy club music makes — me — craaaaaaaaaazzzzeeeey!
I may or may not have a throbbing pain behind my left eye, while my right eye is twitching. I won’t say. But I am enjoying these three songs, only the first of these made the show cut. But the other two are fun, too!
Nibbles, Tredessa’s wedding 2011
That happened with a Laura Gaskill piece at Houzz on Sunday. She was advising us all to “Cultivate Everyday Joie de Vivre.” Upon her fourth suggestion, “Entertain with Abandon,” in which I felt fully encouraged to have guests over often without worrying over perfection, she wrote,
“Offer aperitifs and nibbles as soon as guests arrive to put everyone at ease.”
“Offer aperitifs and nibbles.” Doesn’t it just sound divine?
Well, it does, but of course, I don’t do alcohol {teetotaler, here}, so I won’t be – serving aperitifs. I’ll serve lemonade or green-sherbet punch, and root beer floats a-plenty, instead. Sorry.
But there will be nibbles. I could not and would not have guests without nibbles. Of this you may rest assured.
How to Fail and Still Win, a Guide to not losing your cool. Donald Miller. Big fan of his writing and life’s work.
Because yesterday, I was feeling completely ill-prepared for an important meeting with people whose time is very valuable. I really wanted to cancel, even though I knew I would be enriched by them.
Then this simple Donald Miller post, just spotlighted my rather exuberant tendency to treat any bump in the road like a major wreck , to beat myself to smithereens when I have not achieved perfection. How did he know what I was thinking this morning? The conclusion:
“The next morning I got up, made my to-do list and pushed on. It’s a long season, after all. You’re going to drop a couple games on the way to the Superbowl.” -Donald Miller
Thank-you, Donald Miller. And so I am pushing on.
My silly little secret is that I loved music so much, any kind of music and song, I used to watch Lawrence Welk on TV every Saturday at 5 pm – when I was 14! I knew his bubbly brand of American standards and Martini music weren’t “cool,” but if there were going to be singers with bouffant hair in fancy dresses and fabulous, colorful sets and antics, I was going to watch!
Last Saturday evening, PBS was airing a Lawrence Welk “special.” They sometimes take a theme and air the best of his many years on television. This particular theme was the month of April, all bright and spring-y and hopeful and romantic.
I totally got sucked in to the special. Of course, it still isn’t “cool” for some one of my generation to be watching Lawrence Welk, but I was thinking – these people, these singers and dancers and the orchestra – they worked so hard to entertain. They are certainly considered quaint by any of today’s standards, but I found the show beyond enchanting.
Check out the “rain” in this video. So low-tech, So perfectly charming.
Effort. Lights, Pretty clothes. Color. Sentimental songs. I loved.
Lawrence Welk would absolutely have served aperitifs with his nibbles!
I love those silly Lumosity things. It’s my brand of gaming. Sometimes I do the daily suggestions then try them several times to beat myself. :)
I assumed my weakest area would be “flexibility.” But it is my highest scoring area, with speed and problem solving right behind.
Attention (What? Where were we?) and memory are tied for my weakest areas. I used to have this amazing memory, like – AMAZING (In 1974 April 17th was a Wednesday – that type of memory)…but I can’t quite recall when that was…before the flood or something.
Or what to say. Or what to think. Or which way is up or right or the best. I feel surprised at this age and stage to not know as much as I once thought I did, to not know what is expected of me or how to make hard things work. Sometimes I just don’t know…which is tough on a striver like myself.
And this is really the bravest thing I will admit today. Or maybe over the course of many days.
I did try to give up perfection for Lent. But…
I was remembering my younger self – back when I thought I knew an awful lot about a great many things. And even if I didn’t know, I still had a strong opinion. I really miss those days, sometimes. I really thought I was going to conquer everything before the end.
Now I know much better, which is to say I know very little. In my life, there is so much I will absolutely never know, ever learn, never experience. And while it wreaks havoc on my pride to know less than ever, to be less certain and able to tout my absolutely correct and utterly right viewpoints and finely tuned belief system, I’m wondering if that isn’t the point, anyway?
But it boils down to this, I really want to know {need to know} and never forget this thing: Jesus loves me. I am in my 50s and I have yet to comprehend the depth and breadth and width and height of it – this lavish love. “Jesus loves me, this I know,” and that knowing is still where I often find myself stuck. I am glad the Ephesians needed understanding for this, too. :)
“And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.” Eph. 3
Anne Ortlund, in Disciplines of the Beautiful Woman, said she jotted in her Bible margin next to that passage, “How do you put the ocean in a teacup?” That is the question!
Amelie was practicing her cutting and gluing skills in pre-school with Nonna today. I masked off the shape of the cross and we talked about all the things for which we thanked Jesus – besides dying on the cross for our sins and then beating the devil by being raised from the dead.
I may or may not have misspelled “Easter.” Proving my point. Ha!
But as she cut and glued and looked through the newspaper and found more images, she just kept saying, “I know Jesus would love this – let’s give Him this!” Instead of thinking about what He has done for her, her love response was to give Him something in return!
“We love Him because He first loved us.” 1 John 4.19 NIV
There’s Gavin and Hunter-Magoo, Guinivere and Gemma May. I’ve got Averi and Amelie Belle. And the three born last year, Malakai, Bailey-Baby and little Evangeline. They really do thrill-me-silly!
Got grandkids? Oh, then YOU know! :)