Originally uploaded by aprilandrandy
Kes dug out the wooden mallets that we use to eat crab with, handed them to Randy and me and made us sit down and play her own version of hockey. When she learned the word ‘hockey,’ I have no idea.
Really it’s a lot more fun than trying to play her own version of Candy Land which has little to do with moving the pieces and more to do with looking at the cool things on the playing board.
An imperfect picture of a perfect moment of joy.
I’m amazed at how the little things can take over one’s life and that can be good or bad. A bad way would be the 20 minutes today that I searched for a piece of paper (which really wasn’t that important) only to find that I’d set my laptop down on top of it. Grrr… A good way was Kes’ decision to play elephant with her dad by riding his back around the living room and dining room. It wasn’t a fast-moving thrill-ride but she had more fun in those 10 minutes (as long as Randy’s knees could take it) than she did on the several amusement park rides she tried over the summer.
These are the moments I play over and over again my head.
I balk at the unfair things in my life, the struggles, the hardships, but then something happens, something like the massive earthquake in Haiti, and I am struck silent, dumb.
I made a donation to an aid organization today and although I am happy to be able to do so, I’m also glad that this small act has not relieved any of the burden that is on my heart for the people suffering in Haiti. That would be too easy. I don’t mean to live miserably but I know that I spend my life much too unaware of the world around me, my blinders pulled in tight.
I’ll hug my daughter when I check on her before going to bed myself and thank God for another day. I am very blessed.
Today, Kes and I stopped at Chipotle before taking her to get her hair cut. Luckily Kes loves the chips at Chipotle (seeing as she doesn’t seem to eat much ‘real’ food in general).
We just sat there, me eating my fajita bowl, Kes pulling out one chip at a time and nibbling on it. She would offer me a chip which I’d accept and thank her, and she’d give me her little, “You well-pin,” her toddler version of “You’re welcome.” We sat there, eating, smiling, talking about the cars in the parking lot, the baby crying nearby and it was lovely. Nothing amazing, nothing earth-shattering, but it was one more little building block of our relationship, another pleasant memory to file.
I’m laughing to myself when I read the last post on this blog about discomfort. Boy, was I asking for it by posting that! 2009 sucked. Really. It was a horrible year.
Although there is no magic that occurred when the calendar switched to 2010, I can say that I feel like I’ve turned a corner. Life isn’t sunshine and roses but the hope for better things has been renewed.
Of course I say all this and the AC adapter on my laptop dies. At least nothing has happened to my iPhone, at least not yet.
The theme in my life recently has been one of “discomfort.” I keep hearing about living uncomfortably from many varying sources.
The idea is that God is going ask each of us to do things that will stretch us, that will make us more like Him and more reliant on Him. If we are living too quietly and comfortably, there is a good chance we’re not really seeking God’s will for our lives. At a recent conference Randy and I attended, Dr. Dan Allender (of Mars Hill Graduate School) put it in these terms (heavily paraphrased but hopefully accurate): If you are doing something you feel passionate about which at the same time you don’t really want to do it but feel that you need to do it (possibly because no one else will), then you are probably doing what God wants you to do. Did you follow that? Read it again.
A good friend of mine framed it another way. In most of the parables, Jesus would challenge people to do the very things they didn’t want to do. For instance, in Matthew 19 when the rich young man asks what he needs to do to have eternal life, Jesus tells him to sell all of his possessions and give the money to the poor (which the rich man decides he can’t do). Also in Matthew 15 when the Canaanite woman asks Jesus to heal her daughter, Jesus makes a jab at her and instead of walking away, she answers in humility (perhaps she had an issue with pride?) and Jesus grants her request.
“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” Matthew 6:19-21
I am wondering what God wants me to do but to be honest, there is a part of me that is afraid to ask, afraid to leave the comfort of my easy and known life. Still, more and more, this call to sacrifice is weighing on my heart. So I pray for God to use me. I pray for wisdom to discern His desires. I pray for strength to joyfully give Him what is not mine but has always been His.
In the midst of getting settled in our new home, I sometimes struggle with the fact that our daughter likes to “help” by generally spreading stuff everywhere and being a bit distracting. In the end, I know that this time is only a season and someday I’ll be begging for her to spend time with us.
There was a day recently where I was just feeling completely overwhelmed by what had to get done, and how little time and energy was left in reserves. Kes put it all in perspective that day. I had just received some shoes that I purchase off of eBay for her and put on one of the black pairs. We had no idea they were squeaky shoes. Every time Kes took a step, her shoes squeaked. Suddenly, she was giggling and I was laughing. Kes helps me to remember the little joys in life.
Today we worked on removing some of the flotsam and jetsam in our garage — stuff we had stored for years during apartment life. Kes sat in the garage while we worked, coloring in a coloring book with a new box of crayons, playing with the ping pong balls we found and just exploring her world. She’s a trooper. We are so blessed that we get to see the world again through her eyes.
We have made the plunge and are purchasing a townhouse. Luckily looking forward to the end result is exciting enough to go through the energy draining process of moving. Counting moves where we physically moved the majority of our belongings, since Randy and I got married, this will be move number 9.
Randy will be collecting our things from Kentucky where they have been in storage in our dear friends’ basement for 2 1/2 years. This is the stuff that we didn’t need or have room for in our aparment (e.g., washer & dryer, weed eater, china hutch, etc.) and when we finally open up all those boxes, it’ll be like Christmas. Or will it?
We’ve lived without this stuff for a long time. There is the school of thought that we just don’t need it all. We’ll try to employ the guidelines from Peter Walsh’s book “It’s All Too Much: An Easy Plan for Living a Richer Life with Less Stuff” which make a lot of sense. Over on 43 Folders, Merlin Mann is taking Walsh’s advice to heart and he has blogged about his journey to a richer life. I picked up my copy of this book from the side of my bed and am re-reading it in preparation for facing our stuff.
That aside, I am very excited to move into a new home with more room than our apartment, a patio where we can use our gas grill, and a kitchen that might hold most of my kitchen wares. And we won’t have to walk up three flights of stairs to get to our front door!
At the moment, my life is all about packing.
Oh and if this isn’t enough to do, the company I work for is moving to a new building the day before we move into our new home. When it rains, it pours.
One of my favorite organization blogs is having a little contest with great prizes. All you have to do is leave a comment that includes a clean and tasteful joke.
Have fun!
We received news from the Philippines that my lola (grandmother) fell asleep in the Lord yesterday. My mother was able to fly there and arrived just a day before Lola’s passing.
My Lola Juana lived with us for several years when I was young and I have wonderful memories of her. Although only 95 lbs., she was able to lift giant bundles of laundry tied up in bed sheets over her head, strong from a lifetime of hard work. Lola had a sweet, wonderful laugh and a kind spirit. I wish I’d had a chance to know her better once I became an adult, but those questions and conversations will have to wait until the hereafter now.
I love you, Lola, and will miss you.
