Snapping Twigs

Today I was very lonely.  I wanted to drink coffee to get a buzz so that I’d feel more motivated to do something other than sit and feel sorry for myself.  Instead, I sat outside barefoot in the sun on a beach chair with my 20-month old at my feet, collecting twigs that had fallen from a towering tree overhead.  We snapped those little twigs for a solid 20 minutes.  Listening to the crackling sounds they made was very therapeutic.  My hands were happy to be occupied by such a primitive movement.  I envisioned myself as a tribal woman with an important mission to prepare my clan’s next meal.  Thanks (or not so much) to industrialized life, I don’t even have to worry about the electronic payment of my bill from the electricity I will use to cook my dinner tonight.  “Snap!” “Cluck!” my 20-month old clicks her tongue after each snap, trying to recreate the sound of the crack.  This mundane and repetitive experience was almost like popping bubble wrap but not as annoying.  She was excited for the sensual experience, I was releasing loneliness.

Observation - My Child

We are our habits.  I watch her pick up pens and markers and hold as many as she can fit in her hands.  She is turning twisting lids, pushing the spring end of the pen, tapping the markers as drum sticks on the plastic kiddie table.  Snot drips from her nose as she stands one-legged with her multi-colored baby legs crossed exposing her chubby feet and toes.  Pulls open a drawer and deposits the explored markers inside to feel something novel: two paintbrushes.  Takes them to the artist easel and paints - gliding invisible paint slippery on the whiteboard.  Her brushes drop to the floor and she squats down retrieving them only to bump her head on the easel frame before standing back up.  Back to the treasure chest-like drawer (she can only reach and feel her way around it but not clearly see what's contained inside),  paint brushes retire, grabs her favorite two markers back out and heads back to create, closing the drawer, as an observant astute student, the same way she found it.  Facing me, smiling and chit chatting in immature baby consonants.  Telling me all about her explorations.  Rolling markers in between her two hands...so many fun things to do with markers.  Does God smile down and observe me in the same way?  A loving parent observing my daily contrived motions.  Patient.  Heart filled with joy.  Waiting, listening, arms wide-open.

Be more Deliberate about life.  Be Intentional.

Carry Him Safely

A grey covering looms above

The sky's particles barely clinging to each other

Snow patches from a recent fall lay in between the trees

The branches are still

Even the birds choose to seek shelter

The silence of winter

But inside hurricane thoughts swirl uncontrollably 

The impending transition squeezes her heart like a sponge too heavy with water until

The last drop falls 

She feels the gentle nudge against her left side;

his hand or maybe one of his tiny toes

This place is an early glimpse of heaven

The beginning and the end

She would give anything to have him look into her eyes

To show him his daddy's eyes

To carry him safely and securely inside until it was her last breath

But God already called his name

God already promised us that He has better plans.

For when the snow melts

and the tears fill up the rivers and lakes

The clouds recede 

And He offers us new hope.

In honor and loving memory of my nephew Tucker - until we meet again

We love you!