Week's end with thanks
- Just minutes ago, home from truly take-my-breath-away weekend FLOURISHing with the dear ladies of Foothills Community Church, at Rockaway Beach. Too many praises to recount, and I’m too tired to type, but this little shot captures the sweetness of this day. Discovering hundreds (thousands?) of tiny crabs in the tidepools, spending hours exploring before heading home. Dutch’s words: “I’ve never ever seen a place filled with this much life!” Oh so true, in more ways than he can even imagine. Such a weekend filled with so much life. Thanks for reading.
Riversong in Spring
I want to remember it, like this, forever.
Riversong in spring.
In springs gone past the kids have been so little. In arms or toddling, top-heavy, tripping over rocks. But now they’re lean, lithe, agile little climbers, leaping over rocks and hopping stone-to-stone along the shore. Now they name things–skippers, snails, crawdads–poking and prodding, endlessly exploring into the afternoon. Now naptimes are optional. Now they make up games, engage in contests, imagine maritime battles, build dams. Now I sit on a rock, basking and watching, only needed to rescue a lost shoe or mediate a conflict on occasion.
Mom certainly shuffles, but still gets around. We do her laps–nine of them make a mile–while the kids ride the kettlecar and pretend to be cheetahs. Up and down the driveway we walk, so slow I soak in the beauty that would normally be a blur. The purple flowers cropped up so quickly and all the apple blossoms are just barely in bloom. Heidi is on the swing, learning to pump. Just between lap five and six I can see her body begin to get it–swing up, lean back, legs forward; swing down, lean forward, legs back.
“Good job, babygirl!”
She beams.
Jeff (via Twitter & Instagram ) coins the term #Dutchumentary as we listen to the never-ending string of facts flow from Dutch’s mouth. He wanders absent-mindedly out to the yard, wearing socks, with The DK Book of Knowledge in one hand and the Northwest Encyclopedia of Plants and Animals in the other. As we sit on the swing overlooking the river, he breaks the silence with this:
“Mommy, I’m going to tell you something that will take your breath away.”
“Ok.”
“A male northern elephant seal can be up to 20 feet long.”
This takes my breath away, but not for the reason he thinks.
It’s all of it. The rush, rush, song of the river below. Heidi running barefoot through the grass, her impossibly perfect curls bouncing up and down her back. Papa weed-eating the edges. Oma perched somewhere with a book, drinking lemonade. I write this all down not because there’s a moral to the story, but just because I have to.
Because I want to remember it, like this, forever.
Because I sat in front of Shawna’s facebook page today, for a long time. And there she is, alive in her photo, holding her children and laughing. And not to go morbid here, but I want to memorize these moments somehow and remember the sweetness of the sacred mundane.
To drink the sweet of life.
After dinner we trek down to the shore. The sun slowly dips behind the trees. Dutch is fishing with a long stick and Heidi is crouched down, poking in the sand collecting smooth, tiny rocks, holding them tightly in her moist, sandy fists.
Dad stands in his hooded sweatshirt, looking out over the water. The spring-color is best, not the dark-muddy flood-stage of winter nor the murky-green slowness of summer. Spring is icy-clear, swift, with plenty of white-capped rapids. Earlier today I had looked at photos of Dad–as a child building a go-cart, as a twenty-something hotshot, with a cocky Harrison Ford smile, wearing a navy uniform, and as a man, bent over the grave of his own father. Suddenly Dutch shouts over, holding up a leaf on the end of his stick, “Look, Papa! I caught a fish!” Heidi hops up and brings Papa a handful of tiny, sandy pebbles: “Look what I found!” Dad admires the leaf-fish and takes the tiny pebbles in his hand, and the kids go back to their play.
He looks back out at the water.
“The river is just perfect this time of year,” he says.
“Yes,” I say, looking at him. “It is.”
{Savoring Riversong this week. Thanks for reading.}
Because it's all in spite of us anyway …
It was quite the weekend around here (this picture is how I feel inside!). It’s late Sunday night and I haven’t had time to process enough to write, but suffice it to say God showed His amazing grace in spite of me. In the midst of feeling the lowest and most unworthy of His blessing and power, He poured out both in abundance. I’m overwhelmed by His goodness and reminded of this story. I pray it encourages you too:
~
I had just received the email from my agent: She had sent over the book proposal to a certain publisher and they were interested. It sounded promising. Chances were they were just receiving it and perusing, perhaps googling my name to figure out who this no-name blueberry-girl was. I clicked down to my next email, from a reader: “Your site hasn’t been working all day…”
What? I click over to here to see. Nothing.
What?! The site is down? I email Jeff. He’s busy, in a meeting. Though I know it’s ridiculous, I feel panicky. We finally have a lead with a publisher and now in the very same hour my site is gone? What on earth?
I begin to pray. And pray. Keep clicking. Still not working. Finally I practice what I preach and go into my bedroom and lower down on my face. Flat.
And remember who He is and who I am.
As clear as an audible voice I hear,
“Everything I have done, I have done in spite of you.”
Three clear pictures come to mind. It’s true:
When I was a Senior in high school I had an interview for the full-ride Ford Foundation Scholarship. Though I was an organized person, I forgot about the interview. The day of I was tooling around the house, when I suddenly realized with horror that my interview was scheduled for that very moment. I threw on clothes, cried my way through the hour drive into downtown Portland, drove the wrong way down a one-way street, and ran in a dead sprint down the sidewalk in high heels. The scholarship committee had waited an hour past the time they were supposed to leave for the day. I had spent zero time preparing and apologized a hundred times for being late. In spite of my failure, God gracious gave me the scholarship which paid for my entire undergrad and seminary education. Amazing grace.
When I was 22 and God had broken my heart, I had forgotten about Jeff and was convinced no man would ever love me so why try. I was down, discouraged, depressed. I certainly wasn’t doing anything to “get” a guy, in fact if I were a guy I certainly wouldn’t have wanted me! And it was at that lowest point, when I felt ugly, unwanted, and unloved, and God swooped in brought Jeff to me. At the exact moment I felt most unworthy, He showered me with my husband’s love. Amazing grace.
When we were selling our dream home, and I had worked so hard for almost a year trying to sell it, there came the weekend when I hosted a girl’s retreat, and left the house a mess. Jeff had been home with kids and had scurried out the door for church with the house in complete disarray. After 90+ showings of the house being perfect, it was this day that our house sold. It was this day, when our house was most imperfect, that the perfect buyer came and made us an offer. In spite of our mess, our weakness, our imperfections. Amazing grace.
Isn’t that the beauty of the gospel? God loves to do His work in spite of us. On the day we feel most unworthy, in the midst of a situation we’ve thoroughly botched, when failure is the only emotion we feel, in a way that leaves no shadow of a doubt that He is God and we are not, that all glory and honor belong to Him, who works all things according to the counsel of His will, for the glory of His name.
Everything He has done, He has done despite us.
Rest in that today, dear friends. He does it all despite us.
~
(Thanks for reading.}
Week's end with thanks
- Weekend of RENEWal (truly!) at Riversong, basking in God’s presence with precious sisters in Christ, while the men worked on my rustic writing cabin/office for Jeff, out in the garage.
- Creative wood-panelled walls from pallets (free!) torn apart.
- Imagination.
- Little Heidi with me for the girls’ weekend. Praying she will grow a heart and hunger for God all her days.
- Receiving.
- His truth, His life, His love, washing over us.
- Stumptown.
- Addie Zierman. Intrigued by this girl; captivated by her writing.
- Desiring depth.
- Going outside.
- Ernie.
- Pioneer Woman cinnamon rolls (again).
- Too impatient to wait for local … caving for Costco’s California strawberries. Not the same but still Oh! So good. Come, June, come!
- A subtle shift that changes everything.
- Letting go of pressure. Stepping aside.
- Rest in the midst of work.
- Love … obedience.
- Unplugged.
- First Sunday at the Revival Building!
- Believing, believing, believing.
- Sonflowerz.
- Heidi’s bird-chirp voice early this morning trailing down the hall: Your love never fails, never gives up, never runs out on me …
Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the water, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through the fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.
Isaiah 43:1-2
Thanks for reading.