Outside my window, darkening skies. It's a super windy day. Yesterday's mild was pushed aside with force and fury. Hair, whipped and wild. Earlier today at the piano teacher's house, we stopped by bearing wine, ran into a fellow friend, and witnessed a neighbor's trampoline toss and tumble across lawns and lane--right up against her house! The three of us wrangled it off the house and wrestled it into a grouping of trees. Here, happy for the view of woods, swaying.
|It took three of us against the wind to get this thing settled|
Giving thanks, for many things and especially my dad. He's in the hospital for a second day. Congestive heart failure. COPD. Walking pneumonia. And now, an upcoming heart valve surgery. My insides feel shaken and dizzy. Lots of tears. A 66 Books reading of Jacob and Esau and Esau's desperate plea--pours from my own eyes in the retelling. His anguish. I try to accept the things I can't control.
In the school room, we read aloud from Caddie Woodlawn and Erin laughs out loud. She's cross-stitching a gift for a favorite and faraway friend.
|She made it in one day!|
We laugh at the fat squirrels fighting over the bird feeder, and we enjoy the birds who fly in to dine. We read about birds. She tells me the swan and cygnet remind her of us. I'm glad to be here with her. I'm glad this is us.
From the kitchen, a thrown together spaghetti with meatballs. It's not a favorite. But I didn't get much of a meal plan together, and we didn't make it out to Wegman's. I can't eat. My dad is heavy on my heart.
I am creating new rhythms. Morning time podcasts while I lap around the house for extra steps on Fitbit. And today, reading and crafting and a sweet peace before the news that shook us. Tucked close, I am, hunkering in a lot like I did in my walk last year. One foot at a time. One moment at a time. Faith walk. Trust walk.
I don't want to forget praying for my dad over the phone. This was a first we've ever approached the Lord together, and God is good. I don't know what it will look like (and maybe this is it), but I can trust restoration in His hands. How much stronger he sounded this afternoon (when he knew the plan) than he sounded this morning. The hugs of my daughters. The prayers of dear and trusted friends.
I am reading the last pages of many things and ready to start much more: One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich by Alexander Solzhenitzyn; All Who Go Do Not Return by Shulem Deen; Seize the Day by Joyce Meyer; The Family Romanov by Candace Fleming; Craving Connection by the (in)courage community; All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque (audio).
I am hearing this song on YouTube: Tell Me
Around the house, it is the four of us. Calls with my sisters. Waiting at the gate for the bell to sound, the doors to open, and not knowing what waits on the other side. Ready (not ready). Set (not yet).
A view of my favorite things:
|testing in Animal Farm|
|a favorite library and a study spot just because|
At the table, a cell phone full of love texts from praying friends. A salad plate, untouched.