Wednesday, September 17, 2014

Everyday Life: Right Now

My mind runs wild with possibility and with it there are a hundred or more paths it can run.

There are concerns of school and children. Work and projects. Adoption and hearts living and beating clear across the ocean. Health and the days dwindling from summer to fall. 

In the right here, in the right now, my mind races to the tomorrows, following of that which concerns me today. 

I am laying on our former host daughter's bed staring at the ceiling; I had been attempting to meal plan in preparation for grocery shopping. I had recalled a book with lots of great recipes but before I could flip to that section my eyes landed on the page with a checklist for stress-related symptoms. In those few moments I checked off more symptoms than I cared to admit. I read intently the premise of the chapter. Stress reduces brain health, which in turn reduces other health.

And not just of the physical body -- but health of the soul and of the heart.

I take the last words I read to heart and I hold them in my mind, repeating them over and over as I stare at the slowly twirling ceiling fan:

"You will keep in perfect peace all who trust in you, all whose eyes are fixed on you." 

My youngest son beckons me from my silent meditation to help him fix yogurt with super greens. I settle him at the dining room table and ask if he wants mommy company or if I should go back to spending quiet time with God.

He smiles; you can spend quiet time with me and God, he offers.

I laugh; quiet and time with my little guy is seemingly contradictory.

I settle in next to him anyway. He slowly, quietly eats his yogurt and snuggles against me at the same time.

I exhale and begin to understand that I was wrong; quiet time with him and with God is exactly the quiet my soul needs in the right now.

Because in the right now, I notice the breeze is still warm and the trees are still green.

In the right now, my youngest son is still small and snuggly pressed against my side body. 

In the right now, I feel breath coming through my lungs.

There is peace amid the chaos and my mind slows and settles, sinks heels into the ground on which we're standing 

in the right now.

So I decide to stay

Right here

Right now. 



Saturday, August 23, 2014

God-Sized Dreams: Cracked Wide Open

For days now the air has hung heavy in the midwestern sky, dripping daily with gray and rain.

My youngest son asks where the sun went and if that is it -- is summer over?

I assure him it wasn't even though I don't really know; it's only August, I reasoned. But really I only am following the patterns of seasons I've known for 31 years. I tell him we could pray we'll have more summer sun to soak up before autumn emerges.

The forecast doesn't agree. Rain and more rain on the horizon from now until as far as forecasts stretch.

We wake this morning to more of the same.

And it doesn't just sprinkle; it pours and it thunders and the whole day is lost to more of the same.

These days have been like a mirror of our adoption journey for the last week and day since our communication came to a screaming halt with the girl we already think of as daughter. She is silent with me day after day after day.

I am a broken record of reassuring love, and still she is silent with me.

I pray this evening --

as my little family curls up on the couch together to watch a movie

as a friend messages me that she has witnessed so many tiny miracles at the school where our kids all attend, whereour girl would attend if and when she comes home, that would make it possible for her to enter in smoothly, comfortably

-- I pray

that the clouds

the sky

the silence

her heart

that it all might just crack wide open, shine something glorious and beautiful. That there might still be something lovely left yet.

The light shifts in the corner of my eye, so drastically that I immediately rise from my seat and walk to the front door

to see it all cracked wide open --









glowing something beyond bold-beautiful.

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