HEAD and shoulders, KNEES and TOES

Are you tired of hearing about our move and readjustment yet???

I am also.

Why this move has been so difficult for me particularly I just cannot put my finger on,  frankly.

It just happened to be a pivotal time for me as a Mother and Friend and especially as a Wife.

Marriage.

That all-encompassing word that changes your life and even your view of yourself.

But especially your selfishness.

(sigh)

Joel has flown back to Ohio and taken flight in his new position and responsibilities.

And in the shuffle of finding my spot, even my row of chairs in the auditorium where I feel comfortable, I have felt aloof to the one I am joined at the hip to.

Yes, I am willing to admit that publicly.

It was terrible.

I can handle the rush, the new, the hard and the unexpected as long as his hand is in mine and I am not one step behind him.

One helpless feeling night at church I had given away my very last smile for the evening. I cannot even tell you what the sermon was on, I just knew that I needed to run head--long to the altar. It was a cry for God to see me and meet with me, and it just happened to be as close as I could get to Joel. :)

My heart unloaded all of my worries, my insecurities, my disappointments and the like to my heavenly Father and he met me with one request.

It has been my experience that whenever I have the "List" He swipes it for something singular and tangible. LOVE that.

And this was no exception.

It was a book actually. A book that I had purchased (ahem) years ago and refused to use. It is called "The Husband Project." Three action--packed weeks of non-stop kindness towards you-know-who. When it arrived, I devoured it on a mile walk on the treadmill. Then it happened.

Something. Anything. A hurt, a blight, a disconnect.

And the book made it's way into the bottom dresser drawer and then to a packed box and then to a closet where it sat very peaceably I might add....

Until that Sunday night.

He told me to go and get it.

THE He.

He could have asked me to start a well in Uganda and I would have smiled and returned to my seat ready to conquer the world. But THIS?

I sighed a loooooong "Really? It has to get worse before it gets better?" sigh.

But I heard. I would obey. Half-heartedly, but I would.

I grabbed an accountability partner at church because I am funny like that, and away we went.

Week one, this and that, bonus projects and me trying to hide this book from Joel. I would smile a "Do you know how lucky you are to have the Holy Spirit commanding me to do this project on you?" smile across the table at dinner while I passed the peas.

Lovely, I know. You can stop right here and hate on me, but you know you have been there......or may be there right now. Read on, you have a safe spot with me friend.

Week two I find myself forgetting where I "HID" the book and that alone makes me want to spit. My sweet friend is learning like myself that self is big, bad and ugly and this is harder than we thought. I did so poorly on week two that I was prompted to do the whole week's projects over again. Prompted could be more likely to be described  as " drug through the mud,"  by my Patient Heavenly Father. In a spiritual sense of course..... I really want to be right, and I want to please Him, and so I grab a chocolate malt from the corner ice cream joint, my hubs favorite,  to take home to him...... and one for myself because, Hey, a little self kindness never hurt anybody......

Week three my self is just refusing to die and I am struggling. I will not comment on how many times the book  landed in the trash and I felt that same prompting to rescue it before a little took out the bedroom trash.

All this and Joel has no idea of my Jekyll and Hyde spiritual struggle going on.

And so I swallow my pride and serve myself another slice of humble pie while preparing his favorite meal. I cannot say for sure but I am of the opinion that in this whole three week process I had the same look on my face as "Cathy" in the Sunday Comics. You know the face....... the hair, the grimace.....

Some projects were fun. Some where really fun. Some were hard, a LOT were hard. Because it took me laying aside what I thought or felt or wanted even in the midst of a million insecurities and focus on him.

MY him. Because THE He knew that it isn't about me.

This is NOT where I end with "And we lived happily ever after..." because I am not perfect. And though sometimes I think he is......he really isn't either.

Two imperfect people living side by side causes conversations between high school friends like, "Why didn't anyone ever tell us that Marriage was SO HARD???!" and even some more "Cathy" faces occasionally.

I need God to work through me, helping me see others as He sees them.

He sees my husband as his precious son. And He just wants to make sure he is loved here on Earth. He met with me at that altar and looked me in the heart and said, "I just want Joel to be loved. Can I trust you with that??? Even if you don't feel like he deserves it?"

And the rotten truth is that I don't deserve it either.

Come and skip ahead a week or two with me to a husband laid-up with crutches, kids covered in mud and mulch, three visitors unexpected, dinner dishes, a new stain on a brand new shirt and the like.....

(Think Cathy, think Cathy.....)

And I am running from getting things for my husband downstairs to the girls in the tub and way too many floating pieces of wood sticking to newly soaped legs and bottoms. I am visitored-out, tired, short, and ready to spank everyone just for good measure.

In the distance I see the cooking magazine and the chair and even a cookie or two or three.... and I am at rest.

Joel has been laid-up for days, weeks really and I am feeling mad that I am doing everything tonight.

Then I am just struck dumb.

He is hobbling over to me.

MY he.

He is carrying a basin of water and a bar of my favorite soap.

I am a cookie covered hot mess.

He takes my foot in his hand and begins to wash it, taking the utmost care to try to replicate a spa treatment. A little sits by him and watches him, and it is almost more than I can take. I am mad at him, and the act of my will humbling is almost making me more mad.

The little asks Joel of all things, why Jesus washed his disciples feet.

Now I am an object lesson!??

He smiles up at me  knowing how uncomfortable I am feeling and begins the story, "Jesus wanted to show the disciples that the greatest among them, the ones he desired to follow him were to be the servants." And the little asks him, "Why did Peter not want his feet washed, Dad?" And Dad tells them that Peter didn't understand what Jesus was trying to illustrate. And Jesus had to explain to him that if he didn't have his feet cleaned he didn't have a part with following Him. The little then remembers that Peter then wanted ALL of him clean, and Joel notes that once we are cleansed from sin, we have no need to be washed again, save our feet.

Our feet symbolize us walking in this world. We will sin, and we will disappoint, and we will need our feet cleansed again and again. We will need daily repentance.

And the little heads to bed and I am humbled and grateful and thankful and amazed that I could struggle for three straight weeks and he can pick up some soap and a towel as if it was nothing.

And we smile and talk about how life is hard right now, but still good.

I left my heart in.......... New York

Hello everyone!

I hope that your Spummer (Spring almost Summer :-) is off to a great start. I have had trips that have taken me to Amish Country,Michigan, and twice to New York and think that I left my heart there that last trip.

Actually I split my heart in two and left it there.

New York that is.

I had the wonderful privilege of attending a Ladies Meeting with two of the greatest besties anyone could hope for.

I drove three hours to meet them and literally picked one off the ground when I hugged them at first sight. Yeah, I love them that much.

Then we hopped in the van where we were given bags that had our initials on them and goodies in them. We sat on the front bench seat because one (which will remain anonymous) has motion sickness issues.

She even brought her own *ahem* barf bag.

Yeah, she's cute like that.

And yeah, I made sure she was on my FAR left.

We were just about sitting on top of all of my craft items that I just had to bring and set up at the free craft bazaar at the Ladies Meeting, and we were almost too squished to enjoy a three hour drive, but we loved every minute of it.

We giggled how our bags made us all feel like we were holding our new school supplies and excited for the first day of school.

The first day of a new school year with your two dear friends.

I had driven as fast as I could to get to them and now that they were right beside me, I felt like I could just die and head directly to heaven. Do not pass "Go" do not collect "200 dollars."

We smiled and hugged and laughed and shared and just LOVED being together.

And in the middle of someone talking I secretly wondered how on earth I had found them, why they loved me and accepted me like they do, and hoped beyond all hope that they would never realize how unlucky they are to have me tag along with them.

And I cried.

I cried because in one years time they have loved me closer to the feet of the Lord than I have ever been.

I cried because the love I have for them just humbles me and reminds me of how if it were not for Christ and his gift to me, this love would not even be known.

I cried because I have moved and these times are too short and too few and far between.

And we spent the night laughing together. That is until when we all went to pray before sleep and I decided to sleep first. :)

We laughed about that too, but you know, I of all people NEVER just FALL asleep. I have never fallen asleep in the middle of something no matter how tired. I am usually up  most of the night especially in a strange place. When I returned home and told Joel what I had happen, he was even in disbelief.

And since that time, I have had time to think about that very moment. I firmly believe that I was so at peace, so contented, so loved and relaxed in sweet friendship that I believe that the Lord allowed me that. It sounds funny I know, but to me it was precious. To be so at ease with these two to feel beyond at home. To feel completely at peace.

And that was just another glimpse of the Lord himself to me. Through them.

And the hours passed and we found ourselves singing together, side by side.

It.was.precious to me.

So precious that I took out my ipod and held it on my lap and recorded us singing.

I just wanted to capture that moment, our voices blending, praising God together.

We ate together and shared hard things, and cried some more, because life is good, but hard and looked into each other's eyes spiritually leaning on the other and reminding ourselves that everything we are going through WILL be redeemed by God.

We cannot fix it, but He will, and is, and will continue to.

The conference ended and I packed my pumpkin butter and headed home with my friends again by my side.

And a wonderful thing happened.

A sweet woman in the van decided to open her heart a bit and let us see how she was struggling.

And with a look at each other, the three of us rallied around her and loved her to the feet of the Lord himself.

It was tag-team exhortation and it was us and God was using us and it was wonderful.

And one quoted this, and another this Biblical principle, and another held her hand and kissed it.

And THIS is why I love them.

Why I cry just typing this, why I still miss them deeply, why I count the days until I see their face again, why they provoke me to godliness and honor and holiness and love.

And we ended the trip huddled together, me crying on a shoulder and each of us in a "you will have to pull us apart" group hug.

But we did part, and I was greeted with the largest coffee someone has ever treated me to, hugged and kissed the cheeks of my bosom friends and got in my car to head another 3 hours home.

But before I did, I left a bit of myself behind.

And think of Jonathan and David.

I think of how they met for the last time.

How they wept over one another.

I marvel at the fact that they didn't have email to secretly keep in touch, or cell phones or Hey wire or even face time to see the smile lines and hear that laugh that makes you laugh each time you hear it.

I.AM.BLESSED.

And I will love these ladies, pray for them, and enjoy them until the Lord takes us all home.

And I pray friends like them for each and every one of you.

A Holy Longing

Has it really been that long since I have posted on here?

Well if you could jump inside my head (scary though it is) you would see me "posting" several times a day.

If I could only get my brain HERE every few days.

Here where the sheets are nice and cold, the beautiful music playing, the candle lit and the Holy Spirit reminding me of the days events and the goodness of the Lord.

THIS here is not where I am lately.

It is falling in bed after too late of nights and the sound of the traffic and trying to steal my share of covers from you know who.

But he is lovely so I will indulge him some coverage.

If you could get in my head it would take you to Robeks.

Yep.

Do not pass "Go" do not "Collect two hundred dollars."

And if you have a Robeks you must go.

And if you are like me, you must go VERY often to um.....

WITNESS to the ladies there that make me delicious healthy shakes with extra probiotics and smile and give me more coupons to come back.

Ok witness is a stretch.

And saying that I go often to work on my boldness is a huge stretch.

Let us move on....

There you will find delicious treats made with coconut sugar and no gluten and almond butter and green things that make you feel great that you cannot even pronounce and are hidden beneath 70 percent cacao.

This place has been so lovely and yet has been my only temptation to shop lift in years.

Which is why I do not let myself bring any large purse in.

(do I have to even tell you I jest? :-)

And this place is a longing for me.

A LONGING, friends.

And I envision myself working there telling people the benefits of acai juice and wheat grass and how happy their bodies will feel as I chop fresh colored peppers for their spinach wrap.

And then I go home and almost smother walking past the laundry pile that I said I would get to, find a muddy mess in front of the kitchen sink from someone's last trip to get some water with dirty shoes,  see that the garbage is again overflowing and that no one has remembered that you should at least throw the old toilet paper roll out if you aren't even thinking of getting a new roll.

And standing before the microwave waiting for chicken breasts to thaw,  I can be found in a trance with my lips motioning the word but no sound emitting.

R-O-B-E-K-S

And someone has hit their head on their brothers bat as he was swinging, one ripped her skirt that took me hours to sew for her birthday and before I can process the newest and neediest complaints my hand grabs hold of a dish from the clean dishwasher with food cemented on it.

And I wonder why no one tells you while you are in labor for 15 plus hours that you will one day need those breathing techniques where you sound like a train coming. You will need them when you are NOT pregnant. You will just need them to survive until dinner is over.

If I thought I could sneak back to Robeks unnoticed during dinner I would.

Add a week of these moments and then find me in my room, candle lit, ready to do some stretches on my lovely flowered purple mat before bed at a half way decent time.

That is, I was ready until I sit on it and feel the dirt caked on it from the littles using it in the garage as a magic carpet.

(SIGH)

And I grab the homemade cleaner and clean it and realize that I have sprayed so much cleaner on it that it just might dry out the next heat wave that reaches us.

(BIGGER SIGH)

And then it just happens.

I lean forward and just sprawl out right there before he Lord.

And I tell Him I desire Him.

I need Him.

I LONG for Him.

I LONG to see Him as the Psalmest says  in Psalm 63 and it becomes my prayer with my head buried in the floor:

 "O God, thou art my God; early will I seek thee: my soul thirsteth for thee, my flesh longeth for thee in a dry and thirsty land, where no water is;

² To see thy power and thy glory, so as I have seen thee in the sanctuary.
³ Because thy lovingkindness is better than life, my lips shall praise thee.
⁴ Thus will I bless thee while I live: I will lift up my hands in thy name.
⁵ My soul shall be satisfied as with marrow and fatness; and my mouth shall praise thee with joyful lips:
⁶ When I remember thee upon my bed, and meditate on thee in the night watches.
⁷ Because thou hast been my help, therefore in the shadow of thy wings will I rejoice.
⁸ My soul followeth hard after thee: thy right hand upholdeth me."

And it has been a while since I just laid out before Him and waited for Him.

Lord I want to see you like I see you in the "sancturary." I see you magnified and lifted up, and I want to see you that way in my home. I want to see your power and glory at my dinner table and when I am disapointed because I was a mess during family devotions and complained about getting the kids in bed.

I LONG for you.

And I will be satisfied with YOU.

My soul and my flesh LONG for you in a dry and weary land, where no water is.

And it felt so wonderful to lay out before Him and expose all of my fears and weakness and failure and be reminded that there is "no condemnation" with my Lord. He meets with me, loves me and cherishes me no matter how ugly I feel inside and out.

And even when my faith is weak, when I have so many earthly idols I only see Him dimly He remains faithful.

2 Timothy 2:13 "If we believe not, yet he abideth faithful: he cannot deny himself."

FAITHFUL.

 How I love this Father of mine. Meeting with all of His children at once, knowing our individual intricacies and faults alike and that after Robeks has come and gone He will still be faithful, still drawing me, still coveting each moment we have together on the bedroom floor alone.

How He scoops me up and shows me how His strength is made perfect in my weakness

2 Corinthians 12:9 "And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me."

At the end of this long day, I want His power to rest upon me.

And I blow out the candle and smile at the prospect of a new day.

 

 

 

I like the Simple Life

So.

So I  had the opportunity to speak to some sweet ladies in NY last week.

Yeah I know I kinda just jumped in there without updating you on how we are settling in.

We are. Slowly.

And while I was living life off of the blog, it apparently reinvented itself and I am slow to catch up. I am typing in a new window which I do and do not like.

Anywho....

I was also able to hug on some besties while in NY and just could not persuade their husbands to let me adopt them and bring them home with me for good.

Well there's always next visit.

And I have turned the big 35 since we met last.

Yeah lot of excitement here.

Like "one year closer to Ensure" excitement.

My theme for the year will be "Thirty-five and still alive."

I think it quite catchy personally. And it is more applicable than you may believe on nights when the dog has messed and the kids need baths and I am reaching for yet again one more pound of ground venison wondering if my food would be craved as a last meal for a dying man like Jacob craved Esau's savory meat.

not.so.much.

But I am counting my blessings and eliminating sugar from my diet, yes you can actually do both at the same time, and glad to be in the center of God's will.

And this week Joel took me to Amish country for the day, and it was lovely.

And after the umpteenth time seeing a "Live Simply" sign painted on something my mind had finally had enough!

What does that mean anyway, because the last time I checked people loved their smart phones and weren't on a waiting list to turn their front loader in for a ringer washer.

No one was sharing online recipes for 30 ways to eat beans.

Well now that I think of it maybe they are.......

Last I saw, the kindles were still replacing real books and fast food was still making millions. Interestingly enough the people who smile at their "live simply" sign as they was the dishes are the ones keeping KFC in business.

Does "live simply" mean stop adding more friends on facebook, grow your own garden, make your own laundry soap? Does it mean cut back on extracurricular activities for the kids, stay home more, rent from redbox more?

Just makes me plain mad. And saying "plain" mad just makes me feel simpler.

(chuckle)

Do you think that the Amish have a "Live Simply" sign in their house? Written in German of course.....

Do you think they just wish they could just keep their clothes together with hand spun twine instead of metal straight pins? Use less hairspray for their buns? Stop buying black high tops?

And when I can stop laughing and control my fingers once again, I will resume typing.........

See what I mean?

One person's "Live Simply" is another man's "Amish."

I don't sweat over the meaning of life, I sweat over the meaning of "Live Simply!"

I think it's a conspiracy to divert us from actually finding JFK's real assassin. (Oh my it is good to be blogging again...... little brain dialogue for ya)

And in trying to "Live Simply" we are caught in yet another go around of the "I need to be more like THAT Mom, Wife, Mother, Friend, etc."

I mean where else do we learn to "Live Simply" if not watching someone else and learning from them?

Yes you may close your laptop and go outside for a scream. And you may even come back if you like. I will be dusting my own "Live Simply" wooden plaque and will not even know.

And today as I muse about living simply the Lord takes my hand and leads me back to Micah 6:8
"He hath showed thee, O man, what is good; and what doth the LORD require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?"

I love that it is phrased as a question. Kindov like me telling my 2 1/2 year old, "Haven't I told you that if you eat too much candy you won't be hungry when dinner is ready?"

And she, face full of sucker that dripped on her white shirt, nods.

And I nod, because again and again and again and too many more times for me to confess to, I am thinking that I need too much, need to accomplish too much........to much.

And again the "To list," the "Live Simply" wooden plaque is replaced with a post-it sized list of things from He who holds my existence in His hands.

He says: do justly.

Do what is right in every situation, be it kids, hubby, work, dealings with people, financially, everywhere. Do what is right.

He says: love mercy.

Give mercy freely because the merciful will find mercy when they need it. Give it to your kids who disobey you, your husband who hurts your feelings, to your friends who disappoint you and everyone else you come in contact with.

He says: walk humbly.

Walk. He doesn't say kneel humbly, but walk, with shows me that this is ongoing, not a one time fits all of life moment. As you do all things, as you have a relationship with God, be humble. Know who you are and who He is. Know that you can do nothing without Him. Nothing.

So in a nutshell, "Live Simply" simply means, throw out your own set of guidelines, goals and expectations and grab hold of His.


At least that is what I am going to do.

Have a blessed "simple" day friends!

Plain Dealer dealing with me

Blessing.

Why Oh why do we not see the blessing until we are in a dark spot?

It was last Sunday.

Our first Sunday.

Easter Sunday.

And I had shaken hands, smiled and nodded and hoped that the mascara and lipgloss fooled most into thinking I was not as nervous as I really was.

And my Mom and Dad sat behind me.

And my brother and sister in law and their crew, and I was half praying for Joel and half trying to keep the youngest little's tights up every time she slid out of her seat. And yes more than once I got a glimpse of her cheekies while trying to keep her together and yes it made my morning less stressful and goodness knows more hilarious.

Almost as hilarious as my Mom asking my Dad what the "channel" was instead of the page number in the hymnal.

It was then that second youngest little leans and not so quietly asks, "Why is Grandma's face SO RED?"

Yes, these were memories ripe for the picking.

And the meal came and went and the ham was complemented on several occasions and the casserole I swore Mom would like went home with her like I knew it would and I was seeing them at the door and tired but full of happy.

And then as I tidied up the living room scattered with newspapers I saw it.

The Plain Dealer Parade.

The cover stopped me dead in my tracts.

It was close to church time again and I so wanted to drop everything and read about Stephanie Neilsen.

A young Mother who in 2008 suffered a tragic plane accident which took the life of the pilot, burned 40 percent of her husband's body and burned 80 percent of hers.

80 percent.

I came across her blog just after her accident occurred and was just stuck by the terror of the while thing. At the time I was battling with anxiety after the birth of my 5th little and the more I read her blog, the more fretful I became.

I pushed it away, but not without it indelibly making a large mark on my spirit.

I knew she was a Mormon. And I was saddened by that fact.

But I also knew that there were more things to glean from her trial then I could hold in any one lifetime.

I forgot her to my shame and found her again in the Plain Dealer.

On one of my biggest days.

When it was easy to let my priorities get all jumbled up in the new and different and huge and overwhelming.

And I carried that Parade section into church and my husband half thought I was going crazy on him. I carried it and gently laid it on my Bible and in between greetings after church I would sneak reads of it.

The wave of emotion I felt for her came flooding back to me. I found myself lost in the words and almost speed reading it until it had come to a close and I was sad that it had ended.

Her story.

And I sighed and folded it gently and brought it back home.

It sat for a day on the counter and when my husband asked me about it, her story was so real and intense to me it was almost painful to relate. Silly, I thought, seeing I have never really known her.

Or had I?

And then in another day or two I needed to clean the house and there it was. Part of me knew that I should stack it next to the fireplace for our next fire and part of me was in shock at the thought.

When Joel walked by I told him quietly, as if she would hear me, "I can't just throw her back into the fire."

Her life is changed forever. Yet God allowed it.

He knew that millions of people like me, would look at their ordinary lives differently. They would look at giving their children baths differently. They would look at putting make-up on, and dressing to the nine's differently.

They would be different.

And that is what he wants.

He wants to use so many things to change us, get our attention if we would just let Him.

I am changed by her story.

I am humbled by God's goodness.

I am wondering when He will choose to put me in the fire to refine me and make me more like Him so that others can see Him in me and be changed too.

And I run my hands through my hair, over my cheek and wish I could see things beautiful as she does.

From My Home to Yours

“So, are you excited about coming back “home?”

I have lost track of how many times I have heard this question asked of me.

And these days of hoping to walk into the garage and not see any more boxes to unpack have left me exhausted all the way around.

Home?

I sit in the van getting ready to head to Youngstown to see the In-laws which by some of our littles has now been affectionately called, “the OTHER Ohio.” J

And if I lean forward and peer out the front dash window before we catch the toll road, I can almost glimpse what used to be a second home to me there in Richfield. So much learning, growing, searching, and even pain and loss all wrapped up in one brick bottom building.

Home?

There are no more hills. There are however, many overpasses and even a glimpse of sky rises and the Goodyear Blimp of all things. There are low speed limits and the same roads that carried me to “Cleveland” school and “Columbus” home.

Home?

And wonderfully sweet times of leading a friend to the Lord around my dinner table, speeding her on her Christian walk by giving her my beloved Bible from my Grandmother long since gone to heaven, are mingled with the fear of leaving the state for a college no one approved of and getting married and assuming the title of Assistant Pastors Wife.

Home?

I remember begging God for a house. Our two bedroom house on Haywood held a lot of love and kids and mess and dirt and mold and surely God wanted to give us good things. And I chuckle as He took us to Mongolia only to bring us to a parsonage that the kids thought was a “mansion,” to here bigger yet, where the shelves in the closet hold all of our clothes leaving two dressers completely empty. He knew we would get to the place where we wanted less of things and more of Him.

Home?

And it has taken me 12 years to forget to care about the color of siding and manicured lawns and wall to wall carpet and today on my ride to the “Other Ohio” I say, “God, where is Home?” And He walks with me through my old stomping ground, brushes the tears that have finally begun to fall and prepares for me a table with room enough for He and I, and Psalm 90.

And when we have talked a good while and even sat silent as everyone rushes on, I then speak up and tell Him, “Lord, thou hast been our dwelling place in all generations.”

And he smiles because He delights in me. He delights in me because I allow him to lead.

He is my Home.

And the welcome mat at my sweet Mother in Law’s house brings a sigh of delight in the same ole’ same ole’, and I walk in for coffee and a much needed squeeze.

Message in a Brook

Things are changing here in Humphrey.

Boxes are getting taped left and right, people are asking more questions, stopping to catch up,

There are things to pitch , things to clean,

But some things are ever the same, and steady.

One of these wonderful things happens to be my 10 year old.

Though slightly disheveled at first glance, take a walk with her and underneath her crumpled culottes is a well of wisdom far beyond her years.

She asked me to take a walk with her to the brook nearby our house.

Who could resist, I thought, the sun making periodic appearances through the clouds, the wind rustling the trees and…….. the water.

The water is cool and rushing and calls us out of our packing for a walk.

She takes the inside and I the spot closest the road and smile as I think that I would take any hurt and shield her. What a joy she is to have, to love, to teach and most of all to learn from.

And we hop the guardrail and sit on the concrete and just dangle.

Together.

We begin to sling some smooth stones in the brook and laugh as one of us who will remain nameless has no.aim.

The stones plop and the water rolls and the wind blows her hair to and fro.

And I listen as she tells me how she loves to come here and catch craw dads.

I sigh and wonder why after such a short time the Lord would move us away from the country.

She then tells me of a story that she read in school.

I am all ears.

It is called “The Song of The Brook,” and it is the story of a young girl who always flees to the brook for comfort and each time she does the brook seems to have a different song for her in it’s rolling.

Once when she was mad as a hornet the brook seemed to chant, “Do not be angry, everything will be alright.” And yet another time she was sad and lonely and it calmed and reassured her again.

The Spirit taps me on the shoulder and I ask her,

“What song do you think our brook is telling us?”

She stares ahead almost searching the unknown and feeling a little lost like I am lately.

I speak up, “I think it is telling us, Everything will be alright, Just trust. “

I watch her face and repeat, “Just trust.”

She nods.

She almost sluffs off my comment and begins to comment on the rushing of the current and tell me how slippery the green moss is in the Spring and how she dispised taking her little sister with her for her walks on the rocks because she slipped and fell more times than not.

She then tells me that she loves the fact that the water just flows. It is willing to just be carried with the current.

“It trusts.” I mumble quietly.

“Yep. It trusts.” She adds.

She proceeds to tell me that the current is like the Master and the water just tumbles over the rocks as the Master wills it.

And it is time to hop the rail and head home.

And I am thankful.

Thankful that I didn’t miss this moment, and the wisdom of a disheveled wavy haired ten year old.

And what God wanted to bless me with today.

And the blessing of the Lord just carried us home.