Friday, August 31, 2012


“And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.” ― Francis Scott Fitzgerald
Summer seems to slipping through my fingers. August is still and hot, waiting. Again life has been so full that much has gone unwritten. I always find my way back though to this old friend of writing, this place to help flesh out my heart. I'm weary. Feeling a little beaten down for some reason. Reflecting on all these precious memories woven through these summer days. I'm not ready for homework and early mornings and packing lunch boxes but somehow the school year is in full swing and I'm trying to keep the train moving. Over a month ago we began a major home renovation of removing a wall and remodeling our kitchen. These plans never go as smoothly as you hope and these old tired hundred year old walls just want to crumble in places. Every job turns into three. Speaking of which, I just laid aside my paint brush at 11:34pm and decided I'd come here instead. It was quite an undertaking with six people living here. Suffice it to say, I have never been so ecstatic at the prospect of doing dishes in my own sink again. Anyway that and several other things have made this a busier summer than I'm used to. When I looked at my calender image for August it made me wistful. Steady. I don't feel steady. I feel weak sometimes, like a child that just can't seem to remember the hard lessons I've already learned. Yes, something is off. For instance I don't think it is probably normal to start crying when your kids are watching Mister Rogers and he starts to sing "It's you I like". I could be wrong but I'm guessing that's not normal. Or to tear up when you realize how ridiculously undeserving of these precious little creatures you actually are. I think I have been thirsty lately. I've been striving instead of learning to abide. I am anxious instead of trusting. I am distracted when I want to be fervent. I worry when I want to surrender. I'm trying to be self-sufficient when I want Jesus to empty me and fill me with His Spirit. I remember the story from Mark about Jesus sleeping on a boat with his disciples while a storm raged all around them. I think of how small the disciples faith was as they trembled with fear with their Savior right by their side. I wonder how it made Him feel. I see myself in those fearful friends of Jesus, but I want to love and trust with abandon, to walk on water, to revel in the power of the one who speaks and the wind and the waves obey. I'm so thankful that it is not up to the size of my faith. So thankful for a gentle shepherd who sends streams in the desert, and grace to this ragged soul of mine. He sends reminders of his love that never cease, moments with my nursing babe, slowing my heartbeat, moonlight and the smell of rain, my boys endless questions, braiding golden soft strands, freshly painted walls, my mama's house, piles of books, the sound of my husbands voice reading at night, the sounds of Innocence Mission and Rosie Thomas, and hundreds more glimmers through my days, the kids bedtime and a few quiet hours, can I get an amen?
So to all you other weary travelers, burdened hearts, tired mama's, take heart, we have a God who will quiet us with his love and rejoice over us with singing. His grace is so much bigger than our tattered hearts. We don't need to be steady when we're holding on to the one who is. Sara says it well...