Feelin’ melancholy, Sis?

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Something about Sunday had me wanting to go home.

To the country, a big white house, grandma’s house.

It was a sneaky kind of longing all around a breakfast choice, wishing for breakfast at my grandma’s…doors wide open to the wrap around the front screened-in porch.

I always loved the narrow little side porch, a good place to be tucked away.

Last Sunday morning, I found myself wanting what couldn’t be again.

That kind of floating around in your mind of all things changing.

The knowledge of not being able to be in that place, with those people again, not a cumbersome sadness dragging around all Eyoreish….

Just an almost sweet ache. I had written about the look on my son’s face at graduation, and my sister-in-law commented:

“Feeling melancholy, sis?” Dianne

And it stuck.  Why yes, I believe I am and by the way, Thank you for putting a name to my longing, my wistful thinking

Also,  thank you for calling me “sis”.

That made me smile in the simplest and sweetest of ways.

Melancholy feelings on a Sunday morning,

Wishing for, what back then I thought silly, odd old people ways.

I opened the refrigerator for milk, thinking I’ll have cereal and banana for a change.

Instead of protein boredom and sameness,  I immediately thought corn flakes in the big white, bright rooster box and I went for the closest we had in the cabinet.

Remembered the wilted,  golden floating, softened flakes… me, at Bama’s tipping the bowl to get every last drop of milk flavored with thick sweetness of cream.

I was thinking about my grandma’s sweet milk, tiny pancakes and coffee with cream from a can, poured into the saucer of a cup to cool so I could then sip along with her.

So, instead of two percent,  I grabbed the pint of light cream purchased earlier for something, can’t even recall.

I poured it over my flakes and bananas, its creaminess settling amongst the fruit and flakes, finding its way into the ridges of the flakes and sinkin’ into the bananas.

I tasted home, sweet country dirt road, playing  baseball with my cousins on the clay front yard home.

The sweetness of simple, of sparseness, of sameness…of small things that happened with spontaneity.

Again on Wednesday, I thought of Bama, my grandma.  I moved into my morning, the lingering melancholy of accepting change, difference, good and worthy transitions…blue, nonetheless.

Waking up feeling complacent, doubtful…needing to surrender but not really feeling hopeful or too thrilled with letting go…

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I journaled in the quiet marking my little notes to self. Remembering my grandma in the dim tiny light, her Bible in her lap. I made more notes on prayer.

Lately, God has called my heart and beckoned my attention towards prayer. That morning, empty house except a snuggled down beagle and lab puppy (like a toddler)  waiting beside the door, I sang in the shower;  free, confident and joyously affirming  “Tell it to Jesus”  Lisa.

Are you weary, are you heavy hearted?
Tell it to Jesus, tell it to Jesus.
Are you grieving over joys departed?
Tell it to Jesus alone.

Refrain

Tell it to Jesus, tell it to Jesus,
He is a friend that’s well known.
You’ve no other such a friend or brother,
Tell it to Jesus alone.

I’m linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee and am thankful for a chance to Tell My Story, His story. http://jenniferdukeslee.com/tellhisstory-the-first-step-to-authentic-friendship/

Are you here yet?

Everything started moving really quickly.  May felt like two days, not a month. Your birthday, on the 29th and I thought,   “Didn’t we just get done with Christmas and your first car and making the AllStar team with your buddies, all lined up, gangly legs swinging along the side of the pool?”

Seriously, wasn’t it just a little while ago that bedtime meant Spot stories and afternoons were Tellie Tubbies and Clifford the Big Red Dog?  I feel like it was just yesterday, on a Sunday just like today…warm outside, summer time waiting for us to get home from church…that you caught me off guard, stepping from our pew and down the aisle to open your heart and life to Jesus.  And I cried, not big showy tears, sweet soul-filled tears.

And it seems not so very long ago that you’d fall asleep in my bed.  Not long ago that I’d pick you up from daycare to find you usually on the playground. I’d walk towards the window after gathering your things and I’d watch for just a bit. Mamas do that.  Sometimes you’d be sitting in the sand and I’d smile because I knew your sharp little blue Keds and socks would need to be emptied first thing.

Sometimes, it seems I’d find you in thinking mode. You’ve always been my thinking child.  And I could see you watching the other little boys and girls, content to sit and gaze.  I can see so clearly your little elbows on your knees, your chin cupped in your little hands. Or sometimes running around, laughing as you toddled on cute, chubby little tan legs, blonde hair glistening from the sun.

But most of all, I saw you waiting, your face intently focused and your little mind’s clock anticipating my arrival,  waiting to hear my voice, your name…”Austin I’m here.”

Are you here yet?

Are you here yet?

And this is why I can’t take my eyes off this one shot.

My daughter, making allowances for my lack of discretion,  captured this gem.   I told her…”Catch him looking, he’s scaninng the room.  Hurry, get that shot!”

 My son, looking to see if I had arrived.  Waiting to see me there. On the day of his graduation, knowing I was there, but looking for me in the crowd. Until finally a barely noticeable, understated nod and just a hint of a reassured smile.

Because he had been waiting to know, I was there.

Be assured,  “Austin, I’m here.”

Surprises, Too Wonderful to Know

Makes me happy when skies are grey

Makes me happy when skies are grey

I saw the burden of “not knowing”  in a brighter, happier light this week.

It may not stick.

I may agonize over futures, decisions, delays again.

Most likely, sooner than I’d like, within the next few hours even, prayers and thoughts before sleep.

Mind wandering, scheming, planning, writing scripts and watching them play like a movie.

Vivid, detailed, believable happenings. Things I’m hoping for, hoping not.

Crazy, super lifelike scenes from our lives are the make-up of my mind.

A movie with a wedding, a grandbaby, I picture bouncy blonde and blue-eyed little tomboy.

Or me driving up to a stately campus and unloading boxes into a tiny room where the little boy who loved holding hands with me will be saying goodbye.

He will be pretending to be unphased. I will hold him in hug and get quiet as I leave.

It might be the sight of my beautiful daughter in her wedding dress, hair in sweet simple bun and her boyfriend’s tender face when he sees her at last.

I may let my thoughts form stories of illness, of loss, of hardship. Of fears that accompany age.

They may come. Happy times, hard times.

God has made the one as well as the other. I think about both.

Things too wonderful for me to know.  Job 42: 3

This Christmas my daughter surprised me.

She knows what a challenge I can be. Don’t ask what I want.

I like to be surprised with gifts.

I imagine her shopping and seeing the sunshine mug and thinking of me…of our song. Maybe she let her heart and sweet smile go back to our tiny little place in the country…her little head on my shoulder as I swayed in a sing-song rhythm.

“You make me happy when skies are grey.”  She might remember that when I had sung for so long and her sweet eyes still popped open once I got silent that  I’d add a random little story to the song, making up our special “Sunshine Song”

So, on Christmas morning, I opened the mug, looked over and smiled at my daughter.  “I found it a long time ago, saved it for you.” she said.

I held it close to my chest, the little yellow mug that says “You are my Sunshine” with a sunshine to meet me at the bottom when upturned, emptied.

How sweet is it to wait expectantly for a gift?

What if we thought of “waiting for God” as waiting for a gift, a surprise?

Not knowing what we’ll get, just knowing it will be good?

Like expecting a surprise, contentedly knowing something good will be happening soon.

Think of your heart’s desires, your heart’s longing aches of waiting.

He knows.

He says, shows us  ” I saw this for you. I planned it this way. I have been saving this for you when I knew the time was right.”

I have been

Blessed and surprised by God.

Haven’t we all?

Take delight in the Lord and He will give you your heart’s desires. Psalm 37:4

Demonstrating Love

 

 

10152323784686203When I choose my responses to unfolded clothes, dirty dishes, or lack of time for me based on demonstrating love it feels less like demanding or forcing from my children and more like love. More than anything I can give, love will stick. Love will be remembered, will remain.

When I choose trust over fear and doubt it feels like love.

When I accept my flaws instead of using comparison as the filter for my worth I am acknowledging the love of God uniquely designed for uniquely me, for them.

We love because he first loved us.

CHOOSE LOVE.