Storytelling

I spent the past two-and-a-half days at Beaver Camp enjoying scrapbooking with the smallest group of ladies in a long while.  And that meant that the hosting was low-key, the conversations were in-depth and meaningful, the encouragement was tangible.  

I came home this afternoon not sure if our boys would be asleep yet...and they were hiding under a blanket on daddy's lap, waiting to jump out and surprise me with the most wonderful, WONDERFUL Welcome Home smiles.  I have such sweet boys.  

I could have jumped right back in to taking care of my family by making them a real dinner...but instead I ordered pizza and a salad and we had family movie night in the living room.  We rented Frozen--which really is a delightful movie.  Near the end, when the guy you thought was good but is actually bad reveals his true character, Lewis declared him a Bad Guy, complete with smashing gestures.  He has such a discerning heart (you know, for a 2 year old).  And at the end, when the bad spell almost wins but love saves the day, Lincoln cried.  He has such a sweet heart.  And then he gets all cuddly and reminds you that he likes you.  Actually, he loves you.  Ah, my mama heart!

And somewhere in all that action, Fred came into the living room with a mouse in her mouth.  Way to go Fred!!!  But of course, it's startling and the mouse was still alive at that point, so we all rushes around and managed to get FredandMouse out the front door so she could take care of it in her own fashion...  

While the boys went up with Andy to brush their teeth I cleaned up the mouse guts that Fred left behind in the entryway.  There wasn't much, and I couldn't find any more Mouse outside on the porch or walkway...so I'm hoping Fred tossed the rest of that mouse away somewhere, and that it isn't all in her belly...  Yuck.  I'm all about that mouse being dead and not in our house.  But it's still pretty darn yucky to deal with guts, even for a girl who is fascinated by biology dissection labs and the like.  

And then I headed upstairs to help Andy finish tucking our boys into bed, and give lots of kisses, and give Lincoln a chatting story about that time when I was a piece of wall (by request).  We're serious about storytelling entertainment around here.  

Sometimes days happen that remind me my own normal, busy, distracted, wonderful life really is made up of some serious storytelling entertainment.  And so is yours.

Simple Gifts

This past weekend has been so wonderful, and I didn't take a single picture of it for you.  

The highlight of it was returning to my high school to watch their musical production of "Titanic"--which also happens to be the first-ever musical I performed in, 12 years ago when I was a junior at the Academy.  

The first gift of the weekend was finding out that, for the first time ever, my dad was able to leave his job on time, which meant that he and I got to enjoy a daddy-daughter theater date together.  He's usually on the phones at work an hour and a half or more past "quitting time."  Our prayers through the week wrought a small miracle, because, you know, God cares about the little things, and He cares about our desires. 

The next gift was given by my mom, who despite exhaustion after a day of shop-vaccing a flooding basement, babysat my boys for the evening so I could enjoy the show.  

And an extra piece of that gift was that she let me leave earlier than expected to do a little SHOPPING!  I was hoping to find a pair of great-fitting jeans at TJ Maxx.  I didn't.  I miss when everything was boot-cut style.  And I miss jeans that are cut for short people.  Instead, I bought a top and new cute-crocs that went better with the jeans I've got, and made me feel fresh and pretty.

And the sun was shining on a 52 degree evening in Canandaigua.  I literally smiled my way across the parking lot and had to consciously slow down my excited lead foot all the way to the school.  I drive faster when I'm happy.  Do you?  

(As I write, I have all these beautiful mental snapshots illustrating my words.  Too bad you can't see them along with me!)

And then, the gift of the weekend--sitting in the auditorium of Canandaigua Academy to take in every last minute of the stunning and excellently done "Titanic."  I LOVE this show, and am always just blown away by the quality of the performances, and performers, of the CA theater department.  And of course, because of my roles in "Titanic" and "Les Miserables," there's a very special piece of my heart connected to all the memories I made there.  

I started crying about 4 minutes into the show.  When the captain, the owner, and the builder of the ship sing their first trio--oh my, there were Ryan and Joe and Dick, right there on the stage of my memory.  And that lasted all through the show: the ghosts of the actors of 12 years ago were all over that stage, living again in the wonderful kids performing this time around.  In their faces and voices, I saw Jake, Cyp, Ryan, Sarah, Katie, Dick, Phil, Katherine, David, and others. I saw them up there, and the beauty of it teetered back and forth along that fine emotional line I had set for myself.  I had expected, even wanted to cry at this show.  But I didn't actually want to sob uncontrollably.  And so between my own memories and the thoughts that these characters were real people, full of hopes and dreams that drowned in the Atlantic--well, let's just say the line was very, very blurred.  

At the end of the show, I got to chat for a few minutes with the director--my director--Scott Schauman.  When I found him to give him a hug he said, "One of my Kates!"  And you know, it just warms a girl's heart to not only remember, but to be remembered.  

Lots of simple gifts.  

Heart Friends, Tho I've Never Met Them

For a little over a year now, I've given a part of my heart to a family I've never met, but with whom I've cried and ached and laughed and longed for heaven. 

Aaron and Stephanie Kelley are currently in Kenya, Africa as medical missionaries.  Well, Aaron does the medical part, Stephanie does the school-teaching part, and together they do everything else that goes along with living with and loving their three boys and a community of Kenyans and other missionary families.  

And for a full year now, they've walked through the Valley, praising God in the storm and letting Him carry them, because their little girl, Hannah, went to be Jesus on March 14, 2013.  

Because of their pain--and their triumph in the midst of their trial--I have grown and been challenged, and been altogether edified and exhorted in pursuing steadfastness and Love for my Jesus.  

And it's not even that I just haven't met them.  I haven't so much as commented on a blog post of theirs.  

And yet, because my Heart connects with them, and connects with the story God is writing through them, I love them.

Maybe I should tell them <3  Thank you, Jesus, for this family.

For the Kelley family, at one year.  
 

Psalm 138

I give You thanks, O Lord, with my whole heart;

       before the gods I sing Your praise;

I bow down toward Your holy temple

       and give thanks to Your name for

       Your steadfast love and Your faithfulness,

For You have exalted above all things

       Your name and Your word.

On the day I called, You answered me;

       MY STRENGTH OF SOUL YOU INCREASED.

All the kings of the earth shall give You thanks, O Lord,

       for they have heard the words of Your mouth,

And THEY SHALL SING OF THE WAYS OF THE LORD.

For though the Lord is high,

       He regards the lowly,

       but the haughty He knows from afar.

Though I walk in the midst of trouble,

       You preserve my life;

       You stretch out Your hand against

       the wrath of my enemies,

       and Your right hand delivers me.

THE LORD WILL FULFILL HIS PURPOSE FOR ME;

       Your steadfast love, O Lord,

       endures forever.

Do not forsake the work of Your hands.

See their Story for yourself at Mom on a Mission and Aaron in Kenya

Spring Will Tip-Toe

A few weeks ago, the boys and I took our first stroller walk in months (our first ANY walk in almost as many months).  It was 40some degrees and thrilling.  And I asked the boys if they could spot any clues that spring is on its way.  I was expecting something like "puddles," or "wind."  Instead, Lincoln's response was a little more profound: "Because the days just keep passing, mommy."  

But I've kept my senses peeled to the clues, and these are some of the ways I know my hope is not in vain.

1) The air is suddenly more humid:

• My split fingertips are healing, and I know it isn't because I'm putting cream on them more or cleaning any fewer messes;
• When I climb out of the shower in the morning, our vent-less bathroom has begun to drip its ceiling condensation instead of being just steamy enough to make my nose comfortable;
• Foggy mornings happen sometimes. 

2) The sun shines more often than it does not, and it is shining WARMLY, whether or not the windchill agrees.

3) The skunks have woken up.  A few nights ago I was literally woken from a deep sleep by the horrible stink of fresh, very close-by skunk spray.  There's a family of skunks that live in our back woods, so we always know when they're about!

4) Fred the Cat wants to spend some time outside again.  For many weeks it was a very forced fresh-air-and-potty break.

5) Even if I'm wearing lightweight capris for sleeping, I've spent some time awake most nights recently because I'm too warm.  And when I get up with Lewis, I still put on my hoodie and slippers, but I'm not actually scrunched up with bearing the cold until I can be back in my own bed. 

6) Playing on our sliding hill last week, I noticed hints of shimmering green on some tree buds (HOORAY!).

6) The lady bugs are exploring my home.  They were the very first sign that spring is near, beginning their investigations of my home lots of weeks ago.  

And we've all got our senses peeled for Spring.  Yesterday, climbing into our van, Lincoln noticed this Sign of Spring: mud!  And in the evening, the boys and I played in our front yard snowbanks without hats or snowpants.  And while we played, we discovered THIS most hopeful, most wonderful sign that Spring will be here soon, no matter what snow Events come our way between now and then!

This morning, as the sun climbed over the horizon and lit up our porch roof-slide, Lincoln claimed the dripping edges as our latest Sign. 

She's coming, friends.  Slowly, tip-toeing into our hearts and into our land.  But just as surely as the sun will rise, just as surely as my God lives and loves, the Spring will be here soon.  Take heart!

My Baby, My Boy

My Lewis is growing up, and it's exciting.  And I already miss my baby.  This thought is repeated so often, by so many mothers, that it becomes a comment that only skims the surface, not sinking in deeply.  But once you're actually experiencing it, it's cause for consternation.  

He's sleeping in a boy's bed, sharing a room with his brother.  He's been in there napping for a while, but the past two nights he wanted to be with "Linky"--and he's not only stayed through 'til morning, but he SLEPT THROUGH those two nights in a row.  This morning, he cried for me shortly before 5:00, but then went back to sleep until 7:00.  I don't remember the last time that happened; his normal wake up is around 5:40.  

He's potty training by choice.  He's making jokes with his brother that crack them both up.  He's wanting to do things on his own, like climb the stairs with no hand from mommy. His legs are looking long.  He's fierce in expressing his desires.  Though the product looks very different from his brother's, he does most of our school lesson projects right along with us.  He's so proud of himself whenever he does something new or well, like watercoloring: often the water-filled brush goes to the paper without any paint, and he's puzzled.  But then he gets the order properly, and a big, bold swash of turquoise lands on his paper, and he's just delighted.   

I'm so proud of him. 

For Myself, to Remember When I'm Feeling Uncharitable

2/18/2014

Alanna, 

I need to apologize to you for how I have communicated with you and thought toward you over the past few weeks.  I have had a hard time looking at things from your perspective, and instead focused on my own frustrations when things don't unfold in the way or as easily as I had planned.  And instead of dealing with the roots of my frustration I have allowed my disappointments and bothered-ness to fester until what fills overshadows my soul regarding you is thoughts of division and cutting down.  
I need to take this time (of reflection and actual writing) to realize the problems in my own heart and attitude.  I have cho been choosing to forget that above any other aspect of our relationship, and regardless of our actions/inactions toward each other, 

I am your friend.

You are my friend.  

And we are Sisters.

I have often been puzzled by the term "passive-aggressive," but I'm realizing that in a lot of ways, I myself am passive aggressive.  Instead of just expressing my feelings and thoughts directly (and tactfully/graciously), I tend to avoid any apparent conflict and pretend as if nothing is ever much the matter.  But it isn't true.  Underneath the surface I get downright angry and hurt sometimes, but deal with it in ways that just lead me toward resentment, bitterness, and a wounded spirit that pulls me away from relationship instead of seeking restoration.  I think I've had enough conversations with you about my mom for you to see that my relationship with her is sort of the flagship example of this principle at work in my life, though I've actually never realized it before now.  My relationship with my mom is something I've struggled with for a long, long time, but I want that sort of damage to not be given the nourishment to grow up into any more of my relationships.  

So I want to lay that down for you, and ask for your forgiveness for when I've been cold or stony or sullen toward you, especially about library matters.  As you step away from the library to be able to give as much of your energy as possible to Lucy and Alex, I want to turn to a fresh page of grace and friendship with you.  I want to do life together with you, friend.  

Love in Him, Lydia

A Jonah Day

Sigh. 

In the language of Anne Shirley (of Green Gables fame), a "Jonah Day" refers to a generally bad day, where everything just seems to be going against you.  Those of you who are Biblically literate can see the connection: you know, just a guy trying to mind his own (selfish) business and then interrupted with an unsavory task, which he ran away from, which led to a horrendous storm-tossed sail, which led to his being thrown overboard and swallowed by a giant fish, his sitting in its belly for a long time, then being thrown up on a strange beach, bringing him back to follow through on the unsavory task after all. 

Today seems to be shaping up into a Jonah day for me.  I'm going to complain for a bit here, under the guise of looking forward to heaven.  Because, you know, in heaven there will actually be no more sorrow, no more suffering, no more injustice, no more selfishness, no more regret.  That is so hard to even begin to fathom for me.  

It means, for example, that my right hand, which already begins to feel arthritic, will never ache or suffer from split knuckles in the cold again.  My neck and back, perpetually cricked and tense (especially during the cold, scrunched-up season), will be able to somersault and dance and probably even turn like an owl without the least complaint.  I'll never have to keep up the personal chores I do for the sake of being my most beautiful.  (Actually, I haven't kept up with those for years now, so it will be unthinkably wonderful to just be, just BE beautiful, nothing doing.)  

There will be no poop in heaven.  No poop of any creature, at all, for me to face.  Hallelujah.  

I can sing all I want and not have anybody tell me to stop, that it's too loud.  Dishes.  No more dishes.  I have a feeling that being creative will always be a joy, and never a burden or a frustration.  There will not be cranky toddlers beating on my back begging for my attention while I focus on something else.  For that matter, it seems likely that I'll be able to devote my full attention either to as many things as desired all at once, or else there will be the opportunity to focus entirely on one thing at a time, fully and completely, for always.  I will not crash into things from clumsiness anymore, and there will be no ingredients-flung-about disasters while cooking.  There will never be heartache or loneliness, and I will never Not Understand again--myself, others, my wonderful, mysterious Father God.  I can learn every secret I've ever wondered--and more--about how this incredible creation works.  All the dots will be connected.

I have sometimes wondered how eternal life, the whole system, will be able to function without what we know as Decay.  Because in our system, our broken, beautiful world, everything kind of functions based on the cycle of life and death, Decay.  I can't imagine something different, because that's just how it Is.  But you know what?  I absolutely trust that Elohim, the Creator of the universe, is fully capable of a perfect, Perfect system in heaven, which allows for all things without death.  

Oh, the Joy that will be!