“And Jesus took him by the hand, and lifted him up.”
Today my Grandpa and Grandma are having a going away party. She’s said they’re expecting over 150 people to come and say goodbye before they permanently move from their home in New York State down to Florida to live with my aunt. There are supposed to be people from all walks of their life, including many of the original Clermont Bible church people who have remained friends with them their entire lives.
I’m sorry to miss the party. A month ago it seemed like the thing I absolutely could not miss. I needed to be there with Jess and Liz, Grandpa and Grandma, the DiRenzo’s and DiMauro’s and Link’s and Sauter’s and Roy and Geenie and everybody there to sing the Clermont hymns together one more time all together on this earth. I gradually developed a peace, however, that I didn’t need to be there. I needed to be here.
We’re hoping to make it down to Florida in August after camp. I thought that would give my grandparents something to look forward to, some way to know that even though it is, home is not a place, or at least, it isn’t bound to a town or a temporal place. The heavens are His throne, the earth is His footstool, and God’s heart stretches out and beats across the entire spinning world. Home is where God is, and where God is, I am home.
When we’ve been there ten thousand years
Bright shining as the sun
We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise
Than when we first begun.
The snowpants are hanging alongside the flip-flops towel. This is funny to me, and I take a picture of it quickly the moment I see it, for no other reason than this is funny to me.
This cook job is kicking my butt into gear. I go back and forth between bitter and happy. On one hand, I’m not a huge fan of the planning, budget, mental load, and responsibility. On the other hand I can do this, and I’m happy to be present, included, and challenged.
“Coming boys, hold on, I’ll be there in a minute.”
I promised the little boys we’d finish watching Thor today.
It’s too early in the summer to be bickering and bored, but that being said, people are already bickering and bored. No one has actually expressed the b word to me, but they’ve communicated it in other ways. As the kids get older, I feel less and less responsible for and bothered by their boredom, and what we’re all experiencing now isn’t true boredom, but a need for the new routine to form and for camp to get going.
It’s our fourth summer living here which seems extremely hard to believe. When we walk down the hill with our beach bags and towels, it seems like we’ve picked right back up where we left off. I don’t feel any older, and I wouldn’t immediately notice a change in the kids. They years could possibly be measured by the amount of hyper-vigilence I take on at the beach. This afternoon all five of them swam and played in the water.
I stretched out on the dock and closed my eyes. I have less tolerance for shenanigans, disobedience, and noise, but a more present state of inner peace and rest. My default mode isn’t stress and frustration, and just to type that feels like an undeserved miracle, like the post-traumatic* silence of a long time coming
like the world we live in truly has shifted and changed.
(*forgive me if you’re triggered by the use of that word)
We’ve been nursing one of our cats back to health this past week. Basically that means we took her to the vet after a lump on her left shoulder turned out to be an abscess that burst into an open wound the size of a half-dollar. The wound looked clean, but because it was so gooey and deep we took her in to get it looked at and treated by a professional.
The vet flushed the wound, gave her an antibiotic, and told us to keep her indoors. This is the time of year when flies and gnats start to come out, and they like to lay eggs in warm, moist places. The point of keeping her inside is to keep her out of the way of the flies and gnats so she doesn’t end in a worse wound situation than she started out with.
The abscess rupture is filling in nicely and is now the size of about half a penny. She’s been resting comfortably on the living room chair and continues all her normal cat activities of grooming, eating and drinking, and using the litter box regularly. She tried at first to go outside but so far we’ve been able to keep her in with no incidents.
I feel like I’m about to get sucked up into summer. The counselors have arrived and pretty soon the camping grounds will be packed with RV’s. I never feel ready for this when it comes, and my abilities or desires to “embrace the crazy” seem to have taken a long vacation somewhere else. So farewell, winter–I will and always miss you. The kids have been asking about going to Baskin Robins and for weeks now I’ve been thinking this would be the perfect time for Sister Tabitha to finally come home and take them.
It doesn’t even have to be Sister Tabitha who takes them.
It really, truly, could just be me.
There isn’t much to say when the rain comes around. The greenery has already filled up the trees, and yesterday when we walked down the trail to the beach, it looked like the jungle had moved into the woods. I don’t like the jungle the way I don’t like the fog.
There’s a sobriety inside of me that never goes away. It makes things like talking about my yoga classes and cleaning up my room seem insignificant. Some things in life are important enough to do, but not important or insignificant enough to write down.
Who do you love, really love, today, friends?
(This is where I tip my hat and keep walking)