what i can do

it's a pouring pelting cold rain and a beautiful tumultuous sky- loud and dark and pocketed with brightness and light.  the earth has given way.  the silence of the dry season- the quiet cracked ground-is filled with the sense of more now.  it is good.

today is ash wednesday.  the beginning of lent- that 40 day journey to the cross- to understanding or trying to, the love of a God that led to such sacrifice.  40 days of pilgrimage- of walking in the wilderness- of experiencing God.

it's timed well- this rain. cool air and change bringing reflection- marking beginnings.  this season for me isn't going to be about giving up chocolate or alcohol or starting to run.  in this season i'm going to attempt lots of things- but i'm going to do one thing.  i'm going to try to be intentionally simple. and  instead of trying to create moments to enjoy, i'm going to try to just enjoy the moments.  i'm going to try to be more thoughtful about what i do and say and write.

but what i'm going to do, is to start each morning, when my feet hit the ground, by asking God to walk with me, to bear with me, maybe to hold me some of the time. because this is about all i've got and the really great thing is that it's all i need.  i just need to show up.  i just need to ask for help on the path- guidance on the journey- companionship on the pilgrimage.

trying doesn't get me very far- relying does.  i know i'll fail- to be intentional- to be simple- to just enjoy- to be thoughtful.  but these days aren't about me succeeding in being a better version of me- they are about me experiencing the extraordinary- about discovering the sacred- about me delving into the unknown with God. 

so each morning i'm going to ask him to take my broken pieces and be gentle as we walk through the day.  i''ll warn Him that he might get cut if he bumps into me, but He won't care. and i'm going to warn him that i will be trying, but i usually mess it up, but He already knows that.  i'm going to remind him that i often lose my temper, and get easily frustrated, am highly impatient, and often eat chocolate for breakfast when my kids aren't looking, but He will say that's fine. and then He'll probably remind me of my good parts, and whisper that so far i'm not being simple, and i'll say 'oh right!' and well go have breakfast (i'm hoping He likes chocolate!).  

"Jesus may we follow you on the pilgrim way of Lent,
May we journey with you into the wilderness,
Willing to move beyond the ordinary,
So that we can discover your unexpected sacred places. 
Jesus may we wash our hands and purify our hearts,
Learning to thirst after righteousness and hunger after justice,
May we humble ourselves before you,
Expecting to see you revealed in a new light.
Jesus may we walk with you no matter how challenging the path,
Learning to be patient with darkness and growth,
Willing to live with not knowing, 
Until your mustard seeds take root and sprout into life."  
                     a lenten prayer from Godspace

time change

it's hard to get used to the time change. getting up in a darker morning - sitting outside in a lighter evening.  it will take some getting used to.  today jude was almost late for school because i just couldn't get out of the bed- but it was worth it.  except for the part where he decided he couldn't get a "tardy" and we had to run the whole way and i hadn't even had coffee yet. yes, it will take some getting used to, as it will to have a kid who cares more than i do about him getting to school on time- so, so different from his sister.

and as i'm walking back home at 8:01, i see another mom leaving the drop off scene.  she has her other child with her.  they are walking slowly hand in hand.   he looks about 7, but is small and has glasses and hearing aides and walks awkwardly, the coordination of movement takes effort.   i say "hi" to him and he doesn't respond and i say something about the warm day and the time change and being late to his mom and go on ahead imaging what her day is like.  what her days are like with her boy- her years- how she is entwined with him.  i thought how hard it must be, and how thankful i am that zoe is so functional and verbal and all the things she is, but a part of me was envious of the 'known-ness' of their situation.  i imagined myself with him- walking to school- taking our time- going to physical therapy- knowing that he'd probably be with us forever- and i imagined moving into a place of acceptance - of surrender.  (right- as if i know their situation.  as if it's ever easy.  as if i wouldn't have the same goals and aspirations, the same struggle to do the right thing for my child as i do now).

then i thought about my plans for the day with zoe- how she is scheduled to have a playdate with her friend in the morning and another one with her friend in the afternoon.  i thought about how i get stressed out that we won't have time to do her copy work, math, reading- that she can't write a report on three books compared- or a poetry anthology- or a creative writing piece on the eighth voyage of sinbad the sailor- all the things i did when i was her age.  i go to these places of wanting her to be typical- expecting her to be - frustrated with myself for not teaching her in a way to get her there. and in that i deny the blessing of who she is- i forget we are on a different path- i don't forgive us that.

it's so typical of me- that extremeness- black or white- high achiever or handicapped license plate- i struggle to walk my middle ground. to live in the gray.  to trust myself that a full day of social is for her, school, is for her learning, necessary, essential.  


i got my hair cut today.  i was talking to the guy about the up-in-the-air-ness about our africa plans.  we don't know exactly when we're going, we have little control over it because we need to sell the house and fund raise, and i heard myself say- "but it's all good! it's a good place to be- to live in a place of unknown- to recognize a lack of control- to have to live in a state of limbo- it feels really right for my soul."  those words actually came out of my mouth.  as i heard them, and i recognized my own voice- i saw that i'm making progress. somewhere inside me,  i am moving in that direction, it just hasn't sunk in with zoe.

i'm a slow learner.  i need to see it, hear it, feel it, write it- over and over- for change to happen.

it is the season of lent.  a season of giving up something to focus more on God- chocolate, alcohol, whatever.  tomorrow we're one week in i've been stuck with what i'm going to give up.  but i think that is is- i'm going to just 'give up' and focus on God.  give up the control - give up the need for things to be pretty- give up the expectations- give up the absurd idea of reaching consistency in her days- and focus more on what God has given her, and me, and our family.  focus on trusting His plan for things- and my little role in that- self de-flation.

now it's very late and dark and tomorrow will be hard to open my eyes to.  i will give up and sleep- good night.