Barefoot cooking breakfast
dogs at my feet
Beatles White Album
Little one laughs as I dance
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Sunday, October 7, 2012
THE EX'S EXODUS
For the past few years, I have felt myself identifying with the Israelites. I, too, felt lost in the wilderness: hence the title of this blog, as mine was emotional rather than physical. I felt a deep appreciation for my Lord for leading me out, for sending me manna from heaven, for offering me the land of milk and honey.
But lately, the one I was running from, the Pharoah to my slavery, is beginning his own exodus. And like Joseph and his brothers, I have granted him forgiveness, but also am torn by pity for his condition.
I am working through how I feel about this.
Isaiah 43: 18-19
Forget the former things;
do not dwell on the past.
19 See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness
and streams in the wasteland
Today our sermon at church touched on some of those issues: that God is doing a new thing in new freedom, new witness, and new exodus. It made me think about how we needed to prune off the old and dying leaves in order for the healthy ones to grow.
Just before church, I got some news that my boss is also beginning a new journey, one that involves leaving us behind. I don't know how we will make it without her, just as I wonder how we will make it without the one I mention above. I am wondering how the exodus of those two key people in my life will affect things around me - at work and at home. I know I need to trust God, that these things happen for a reason, that we will all be better off, but at the same time, I am nervous about the changes.
For the past few years, I have felt myself identifying with the Israelites. I, too, felt lost in the wilderness: hence the title of this blog, as mine was emotional rather than physical. I felt a deep appreciation for my Lord for leading me out, for sending me manna from heaven, for offering me the land of milk and honey.
But lately, the one I was running from, the Pharoah to my slavery, is beginning his own exodus. And like Joseph and his brothers, I have granted him forgiveness, but also am torn by pity for his condition.
I am working through how I feel about this.
Isaiah 43: 18-19
Forget the former things;
do not dwell on the past.
19 See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness
and streams in the wasteland
Today our sermon at church touched on some of those issues: that God is doing a new thing in new freedom, new witness, and new exodus. It made me think about how we needed to prune off the old and dying leaves in order for the healthy ones to grow.
Just before church, I got some news that my boss is also beginning a new journey, one that involves leaving us behind. I don't know how we will make it without her, just as I wonder how we will make it without the one I mention above. I am wondering how the exodus of those two key people in my life will affect things around me - at work and at home. I know I need to trust God, that these things happen for a reason, that we will all be better off, but at the same time, I am nervous about the changes.
Monday, February 27, 2012
The Things We Do For Love
A Friday night in Katy, Texas finds us at the Katy Rodeo, with the two boys and a friend of theirs. Last year the boys were with their dad when this rodeo blew into town, and we went without them. It made me sad, and I could not wait to share this with them. The youngest of my boys was still just young enough to participate in the Stick Horse Race, and this would probably be the last year he could do Mutton Bustin' if he wanted (which he didn't).
Just the day before, I had been flat broke, but today was payday, and I had a little extra from unused sick time last year. I pulled out more cash than I reasonably should blow on a few hours of fun from the bank, with the intention on treating us to an extra fun night out, but not without lamenting for a few moments what else I could be spending my money on. J was exhausted, but he summoned up the energy to come with us, because he knew the boys would behave better if he was there.
We had offered to pay for the extra friend's entry, feeling generous. The rodeo itself was very inexpensive, with cheap but delicious food for sale. It was the carnival I knew would be breaking the bank, but even so, we mentally prepared ourselves to let the boys have some fun there.
Fighting small town traffic, finding a parking spot, walking into the rodeo grounds with three very excited boys - all this was enough to tax our patience, but we kept our enthusiastic smiles. I loaded us up on hot dogs, "charburgers", and sodas. We waited behind hordes of slow moving people to find a seat on the bleachers.
About ten minutes into the show, they announced it was time for the stick horse race. The youngest boy and I grabbed the sock-face stick horse we had bought upon entry for $7 and climbed down the bleachers to wait among throngs of small whiny children dressed as cowboys and cowgirls.
The wait was long, and after about fifteen minutes, my son decided he didn't want to do the stick horse race anymore, but I persisted. In the end, he was lined up in the middle of the arena with the other children, stick between his legs. When he started running down the field with the group, the huge smile on his face warmed my heart into a million sappy pieces.
When we got back up in the bleachers, the two older boys had decided they were done with the rodeo, and ready for the carnival. Every fifteen minutes or so for the next hour, they asked us if it was time to go yet. I really wanted them to enjoy the rodeo show as much as I was, but eventually I realized it was only interesting to me, so we caved and headed for the carnival.
Twenty dollars each for wristbands. Fifteen minutes of standing in line for each ride. My long suffering, patient partner stood holding jackets and leaning on the stick horse waiting for each ride to be over, while the three boys and I spun and turned and bumbed each others cars and laughed on the rides.
My older boy is a risk taker. The youngest probably is, too, but mostly he wants to follow his brother's lead. And somehow, because I want to accompany them to make sure they are all right and having fun, I always get lead, too, into rides I am not exactly sure I want to be on. The Tilt-A-Whirl was fine; Space Mountain at Disney World this past Christmas was not. And neither was the last ride we went on this night.
I don't know the name of it, but it had two seater carts attached in a cluster of four that spun round and round and up and down. When we had watched it on the ground, the fact that the riders did not fall out of it appeared to defy gravity to me. I was strapped in with my five year old, and three seconds into it, I wanted to be off. He was practically having to talk me through it....no, not really, though that is what I joked to J. Actually, I tried to be brave...talking to him through it, asking him how he felt about the twists and turns, comforting myself through the words I said to him, "It's like flying, isn't it?", and "doesn't the sky look cool from up here?". My words came out of teeth gritted together and a strong will not to throw up before the ride was over. Interestingly enough, it was my oldest one who ran to the grass after we got off, clutching his stomach, and attempting to get rid of the remnants of charburger still in it.
All the while, my eyes were set across the grass in the scene I had noted while we waited in line before the ride. Rodeo riders, perhaps to warm up or cool down their horses, or maybe because they were bored, had slowly been converging on a big open grassy area below and behind the bleachers. They were cantering in circles, talking to each other, having horsey pow-wows. By the time we got off the ride, there was probably at least fifty of them, having fun just goofing on horseback.
The scene made me miss horses, miss being a part of something like that. I sold my first horse when the oldest boy was young, partially because I had to decide between time with one or the other. I couldn't bring the toddler to the barn, and my horse needed a lot of time. Later, I bought a kids horse to teach both of them to ride on, but after about six months or a year, they grew bored with her, and it was a battle just to get them to come with me to the barn. I was alone with the kids a lot, and so I had to leave horses behind, find a new home for them, wait for a time later in life perhaps to get back to being one of those people.
There are some people who perhaps can walk straight into living for someone else without ever looking back, without ever thinking twice about the sacrifices we make. I can't. Maybe I am too selfish. I see those things, those things it is hard to let go of and the things we let in that we would rather not, for the sake of someone else. I see that tired man standing there patiently, pimping a stick horse cane, and I am fully aware of the things we do for each other, the things we do for love. And it's neverending, and richly rewarding.
Just the day before, I had been flat broke, but today was payday, and I had a little extra from unused sick time last year. I pulled out more cash than I reasonably should blow on a few hours of fun from the bank, with the intention on treating us to an extra fun night out, but not without lamenting for a few moments what else I could be spending my money on. J was exhausted, but he summoned up the energy to come with us, because he knew the boys would behave better if he was there.
We had offered to pay for the extra friend's entry, feeling generous. The rodeo itself was very inexpensive, with cheap but delicious food for sale. It was the carnival I knew would be breaking the bank, but even so, we mentally prepared ourselves to let the boys have some fun there.
Fighting small town traffic, finding a parking spot, walking into the rodeo grounds with three very excited boys - all this was enough to tax our patience, but we kept our enthusiastic smiles. I loaded us up on hot dogs, "charburgers", and sodas. We waited behind hordes of slow moving people to find a seat on the bleachers.
About ten minutes into the show, they announced it was time for the stick horse race. The youngest boy and I grabbed the sock-face stick horse we had bought upon entry for $7 and climbed down the bleachers to wait among throngs of small whiny children dressed as cowboys and cowgirls.
The wait was long, and after about fifteen minutes, my son decided he didn't want to do the stick horse race anymore, but I persisted. In the end, he was lined up in the middle of the arena with the other children, stick between his legs. When he started running down the field with the group, the huge smile on his face warmed my heart into a million sappy pieces.
When we got back up in the bleachers, the two older boys had decided they were done with the rodeo, and ready for the carnival. Every fifteen minutes or so for the next hour, they asked us if it was time to go yet. I really wanted them to enjoy the rodeo show as much as I was, but eventually I realized it was only interesting to me, so we caved and headed for the carnival.
Twenty dollars each for wristbands. Fifteen minutes of standing in line for each ride. My long suffering, patient partner stood holding jackets and leaning on the stick horse waiting for each ride to be over, while the three boys and I spun and turned and bumbed each others cars and laughed on the rides.
My older boy is a risk taker. The youngest probably is, too, but mostly he wants to follow his brother's lead. And somehow, because I want to accompany them to make sure they are all right and having fun, I always get lead, too, into rides I am not exactly sure I want to be on. The Tilt-A-Whirl was fine; Space Mountain at Disney World this past Christmas was not. And neither was the last ride we went on this night.
I don't know the name of it, but it had two seater carts attached in a cluster of four that spun round and round and up and down. When we had watched it on the ground, the fact that the riders did not fall out of it appeared to defy gravity to me. I was strapped in with my five year old, and three seconds into it, I wanted to be off. He was practically having to talk me through it....no, not really, though that is what I joked to J. Actually, I tried to be brave...talking to him through it, asking him how he felt about the twists and turns, comforting myself through the words I said to him, "It's like flying, isn't it?", and "doesn't the sky look cool from up here?". My words came out of teeth gritted together and a strong will not to throw up before the ride was over. Interestingly enough, it was my oldest one who ran to the grass after we got off, clutching his stomach, and attempting to get rid of the remnants of charburger still in it.
All the while, my eyes were set across the grass in the scene I had noted while we waited in line before the ride. Rodeo riders, perhaps to warm up or cool down their horses, or maybe because they were bored, had slowly been converging on a big open grassy area below and behind the bleachers. They were cantering in circles, talking to each other, having horsey pow-wows. By the time we got off the ride, there was probably at least fifty of them, having fun just goofing on horseback.
The scene made me miss horses, miss being a part of something like that. I sold my first horse when the oldest boy was young, partially because I had to decide between time with one or the other. I couldn't bring the toddler to the barn, and my horse needed a lot of time. Later, I bought a kids horse to teach both of them to ride on, but after about six months or a year, they grew bored with her, and it was a battle just to get them to come with me to the barn. I was alone with the kids a lot, and so I had to leave horses behind, find a new home for them, wait for a time later in life perhaps to get back to being one of those people.
There are some people who perhaps can walk straight into living for someone else without ever looking back, without ever thinking twice about the sacrifices we make. I can't. Maybe I am too selfish. I see those things, those things it is hard to let go of and the things we let in that we would rather not, for the sake of someone else. I see that tired man standing there patiently, pimping a stick horse cane, and I am fully aware of the things we do for each other, the things we do for love. And it's neverending, and richly rewarding.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Mostly
I have been posting on www.stateofwilderness.com
Been obsessed with nature and environment type thoughts and experiences.
This blog I am going to reserve for my emotional journey.
Been obsessed with nature and environment type thoughts and experiences.
This blog I am going to reserve for my emotional journey.
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