I think the funk is lifting. I felt it going a few days ago. A complete stranger clutched the pulpit and said inspired words that could only have been directed to me. It lifted at the dinner table when Trevor was telling stories to the kids about our courtship and marriage and I was reminded of the things I value most. Every time (seriously, every time) I crack open the Book of Mormon things become clearer and clearer. People, conversations, and words of scripture speak words that only God knows I'm needing to hear.
Orson Scott Card says, "As long as you keep getting born, it's alright to die some times." I think he's right.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Where to Build Our Sandcastle
I love watching waves roll in and out. Because the strength of the wave is random, it’s hard to pick the precise moment when the tide stops going out and starts coming in. I never can tell where to build my sandcastle.
Knowing what the future holds for our family is even more difficult than calling the tide’s turn. This much is certain; Ashland is only a temporary haven for our castle, though we've taken great care to make it beautiful and inviting. It is also certain that we will have busy days ahead with auditions and applications, boxes and Magic Eraser cleaners. We're certain that things will work out...God's proven that to us time and again. We're just not certain how.
We're trying not to get seasick in these waves of change. We knew this day would come and so we plan and work and pray and think and discuss, but mostly, we wait. Well, that's not true. Mostly, we pray. Praying gives us the patience and peace to wait. I can see us in that "waiting place" Dr. Seuss talks of in Oh, the Places You'll Go. You know the picture: people standing around waiting for "planes to go, or buses to come, or trains to go" or "fish to bite, or Friday night."
"What are you waiting for?" I ask myself as I stand at the linen closet trying to decide which towels should go and which should find a new purpose. It's time to get packing and cleaning! But then, I look at the calendar and I know I have until November 1st before those towels should be turned into rags.
And then I sigh in relief. I have 3 more months of teaching the girls in my Young Women's class, playing at Lithia park with the kids, exploring the mountains with Trev, and seeing the Claysons in church. I'll get to pick peaches in the orchard, camp in Grant's Pass, schedule play dates with Emmy and Blaine, ride bikes to pick blackberries, walk with Leisa and Aslan, and jog at the OSU track. And who knows, maybe in that 3 months, we'll figure out if the tide is coming or going and where to build that sandcastle.
Knowing what the future holds for our family is even more difficult than calling the tide’s turn. This much is certain; Ashland is only a temporary haven for our castle, though we've taken great care to make it beautiful and inviting. It is also certain that we will have busy days ahead with auditions and applications, boxes and Magic Eraser cleaners. We're certain that things will work out...God's proven that to us time and again. We're just not certain how.
We're trying not to get seasick in these waves of change. We knew this day would come and so we plan and work and pray and think and discuss, but mostly, we wait. Well, that's not true. Mostly, we pray. Praying gives us the patience and peace to wait. I can see us in that "waiting place" Dr. Seuss talks of in Oh, the Places You'll Go. You know the picture: people standing around waiting for "planes to go, or buses to come, or trains to go" or "fish to bite, or Friday night."
"What are you waiting for?" I ask myself as I stand at the linen closet trying to decide which towels should go and which should find a new purpose. It's time to get packing and cleaning! But then, I look at the calendar and I know I have until November 1st before those towels should be turned into rags.
And then I sigh in relief. I have 3 more months of teaching the girls in my Young Women's class, playing at Lithia park with the kids, exploring the mountains with Trev, and seeing the Claysons in church. I'll get to pick peaches in the orchard, camp in Grant's Pass, schedule play dates with Emmy and Blaine, ride bikes to pick blackberries, walk with Leisa and Aslan, and jog at the OSU track. And who knows, maybe in that 3 months, we'll figure out if the tide is coming or going and where to build that sandcastle.
Crazy for the Coast
In July, Trev had 3 days without performances, so we raced to set up camp at Harris Beach, Oregon, and were sad to see those days slip by so fast.
The water was frigid, but we finally dared each other to body surf while the kids watched in the sand. They had always suspected that their parents were crazy. Now they knew.
The campsite was a comfortable distance from the wind-beaten shore, but we couldn't help ourselves from exploring the beach every day. When the wind had blown sand into every pore and we could no longer hear or see or smell, we drug our bodies back up the steep cliff to our tent to rejuvenate by the grace of fire and junk food. We were grateful for the sand in our ears that helped us survive each night of night terrors and bathroom needs.
Call us crazy, but we're counting down the days 'till we can load up the tent again.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)