September 2019
Outside my window, this morning, I noticed how night hung on. A swipe of pink on the eastern horizon and I pointed it out to Lanie. The Earth is circling the sun, and seasons tilt the sunrise lower and later. In yoga, the instructor mentioned this autumnal equinox and change and longer nights--and always, I contemplate. Lanie asked, "When are you going to run?" And I was surprised at the time--I thought I had a good hour, fooled by the later sunrise. I laced up my shoes and left.
Giving thanks for friends who've been there. Who've dealt with food issues and social issues and know how to speak grace and pour grace and walk in grace (encouragers). For friends who are a text away, a phone call away, a few miles away who meet up and text back and call back (comrades in arms). For friends who meet for lunch and send emojis and don't hang up until we get a date on the calendar (companions at the table).
In the school room, we are back to work. I'm teaching at co-op this year. I'm trying not to let the commitment take my year and run. It's hard being on someone else's time table. Trying to think beyond the Monday/Wednesday grind, and savor a Tuesday with Erin. Savor a slower rhythm here. Savor seventh and eleventh. (I saw a mom of young elementaries in the hallway and we chatted. She asked about my child at co-op. "Eleventh grade," I said. "You're almost done," she commented. Closer to the finish than I am to the start for sure. And I don't want it to be over. I have loved it all. I have loved it all.)
From the kitchen, I'm dinner planning and lunch planning and calorie counting. I'm seriously trying to get my bento act together. I usually (sadly and only) manage to make two a year, and I'm already ahead for 2019, but truly: I must do better than this. I love all things bento. I have an entire cabinet dedicated to bento. I have cookbooks specifically about bento lunches. This isn't difficult.
I am in long thought. Of a woman whose MS has left her paralyzed to the point she cannot wipe her tears. Of purpose and stressors and relationships and community. Oh, life.
I am reading the last pages of Driving Miss Norma by Tim Bauerschmidt and Ramie Liddle. Soon starting A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman; Dare to Lead by Brene Brown; and A Simplified Life by Emily Ley. Also, we have several art books from the library on Renaissance artists.
I am hearing piano music in my mind and it blesses me. I am so thankful for music in my house. I am so thankful for all the practice she gives it so that when I find myself in the middle of the night sleepless, her beautiful songs help fill the space worries try to occupy. I thought I had gotten past all the worry, but sometimes it haunts unexpectedly. I am thankful that music fights on my behalf.
Around the house, closing things up. This weekend we'll close the pool. And don't I still have summer weeds to pull? Yes. I am readying for home fires and hot drinks and socks on my feet. Still, glad for cool temperatures for a morning run, but not so cool that I put on a jacket.
A view of my favorite things:
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| Yoga! |
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| Just kidding, truly |
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| Hugs with my girl |
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| a last swim |
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| firsts |
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| firsts |
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| mummers |
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| Shane and Erin at the Renaissance Festival |
At the table, I think on birthdays and holidays and celebrations. This next birthday is the last of the big milestones. This year I celebrated both my first year and, soon, my fiftieth. Thankful for who I am in Christ, because of Christ. Thankful for freedom. Thankful for grace. Thankful for the Holy Spirit and God's song over me. Held, loved, valued. I have all I need. On, on.
