I've been longing to put my prints to these keys this whole week long, but my thinking is so muddled and unruly that there was no real point to saving such puddles of unorganized thinking.
I read a couple of books by American authors, but instead of inspiration, a faint yawn broke free and fell. Not because they were sorry books, more because my "receiver - processor" was just out of good working order. I also read how the apostle Paul struggled with those Corinthians and then Ephesians until he seemed "red in the face" (maybe a southerner's expression only; means he seemed frustrated, encase you wondered). He so wanted the REAL gospel to LIVE out among those folks that he so loved. But I think he wanted it even more because he so loved that "Gospel Maker".
But today is my birthday. I have turned 46 years old overnight and even though my body feels a little under the weather, suddenly I feel so alive and grateful for 46 opportunities wrapped into those 365 days, perusing past those four distinct seasons and always starting back here in the first of autumn again on September 29th.
It is cool and moist outside this morning. It is quiet and tranquil in my little cabin on our Four Oaks Farm. The rooster is crowing up a "roostery" storm outside. Is he telling me it's time to come out and walk awhile in the pine thicket? He has just reminded me that that would be a splendid way to start a day like a Saturday birth - day.
I'll go out and be grateful for this day with my best friend- husband, and my family of boys turned to men. I'll go out and say thank you for my mother who prepares a feast for us all to enjoy and a "magical" time each week to gather around her table for conversations, for eyes to see love across the table, and to make memories to hold for later on. Last night I knew the feast was for me and the cake, my birthday cake --and we didn't need the candles.
I'll be grateful for another year to love people who surround me, and some I will seek out to love. I will pray to see the "Gospel Maker" more real, more consistently, more "first" this year of 365 days and 4 seasons. My birthday prayer will be to see HIM and believe in all that He is for every day and for all of us. There is always hope for better days and more believing, especially starting on birthdays.
My friend said that she was glad that we didn't have to "do one day without Him" and I thought that an awesome thought! Not one more day do we have to "do" without Him. Not one more birthday without, and not one more day. And we don't have to look ahead without Him and we surely don't have to look at all that's behind us without Him right there inside of our hearts.
Today I'm thinking that birthdays are for looking up.
For looking around at all that you're blessed with.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
|He helps me around here. He pulled the carpet tacks out of the floor and helped haul away the old carpet. There was no stopping him until the floor was all clear of tacks.|
|He and I swing until the bats come out. He says we should count them every time. He wants to talk with me into the night; how blessed am I.|
|He went on vacation with Uncle Wayne and Aunt June. He packed this perfectly organized suitcase himself.|
|He always wears a hat, except on Sunday which we've declared our one day to enjoy the site of his shiny brown hair. And he owns more than one black Captain America t-shirt.|
|He is excellent in all that he does and fries fish to perfection.|
|He has a highly developed sense of humor and sometimes plays the mandolin or drums.|
Some more of the things I love about him:
He's the only 11 year old that I know who uses the phrase, "Woe Nelly!"
He likes to cut down trees and make his own glue from pine tree sap and charcoal.
One of his favorite friends (and heros) is our 82 year old neighbor, Mr. S. I love how he stalks the fence line waiting to see if Mr. S. will come out to work in his yard just so that he can snag a few minutes to talk to him.
When I tell him how wonderful he is, he always asks me why. I tell him all the ways that he blesses me and why I am so proud of him. It always takes awhile.
I've been thinking a lot of how he will turn 12 in a few months and how these little boys days are drawing to a quiet close. So, I plan to hold his hand in parking lots every chance that I get, even though he lets go when he realizes what he's doing these days. I plan to let him come out as often as he wants and interrupt my prayers in the pine thicket, because he only wants to chat for a minute, and I hope to sit with him and count the bats into the night for as many nights as we can see our way out to the old swing.
|Fishin' at Gar Creek|