Flow

It's been a week and five days since my last blog post.  Maybe you didn't notice.  My brain hurts, though, from the tangle of thoughts that have been cooped up and not been allowed to flow out through my fingertips.  I've said it before and I'll say it again, blogging is therapy.

If you remember my post from a few weeks ago, I couldn't wait for school to start.  I was living for August 27.  I even went so far as to say I was going to just lay on the floor, stare at the ceiling, and listen to the silence.

Guess what?  I've laid on the floor 0 times.  The start of the school year is HARD.  The first week the schedule looked like this:  

Wednesday, half day.

Thursday, full day.

Friday, full day.

The second week looked like this:

 Monday, off

Tuesday, full day.

Wednesday, full day.

Thursday, full day.

Friday, full day.

We are now in the third week of school and it's the first full week.

Maybe that doesn't seem like a big deal to you.  Maybe you are good at going with the flow.  But to me it feels like there is no flow.   And then, in addition to school, we are starting other new schedules at the same time.

My boys are running cross country so there are practices.

Jessie and Kye have clubs at church on Wednesday nights.

My work schedule is different.

I remember taking piano lessons as a kid.  There were some pieces of music that were to be played staccato.   In these pieces the notes were abruptly disconnected.  They were shortened and detached from one another.

I hated staccato pieces.  They made me feel on edge.  They made me feel uptight.  They made me feel hurried.

All I wanted to do is press the right pedal and have the notes flow into each other.  To be connected.  To form a continuous river of sound.

The last two weeks have felt very staccato to me.  We've not gotten in the groove of a new school year yet.  We need to find our new normal.  It will come, and things will flow again.  But right now I need to find gratefulness in the staccato.

We had an unhurried, rare evening at home on Monday.  It was glorious.  Larry and the kids threw a football around the backyard.

I sat on the patio and watched.  The patio was delightfully warm from soaking up the sun all day.

There were puppies.  I did not invite the puppy in the photo above to sit on my lap.  He just assumed he was invited and crawled up.

Uh, don't let this photo fool you.  I don't like dogs.

My dear friend, Wanda, gave me a necklace back in February.  

Wanda, I never told you this but I wear it on days when I suspect things won't go the way I have planned.  I should have been wearing it constantly the past two weeks.

Sidenote:  Wanda makes fabulous necklaces and sells them here.  If you ever want to get me a gift, shop Pearls N Joy.  Thank you.

In an ironic twist, the writing of this blog post has been very staccato.  I started it at 6:30 this morning but soon had to stop when the kids got up for school.  After they left I banged out a few more sentences but then had to leave to take Jake to preschool.  I met a few friends to walk, then went to Goodwill, followed by grocery shopping.  Ran home, dropped off the groceries, ate a few crackers dipped in chicken salad, and left again to pick up Jake.  It's now 12:37 and I'm almost done.

I recently read the phrase "unforced rhythms of grace" and it's been rattling around in my heart.  This morning I couldn't remember where I had read it so I googled it.  Turns out it's from The Message version of the Bible.

"Are you tired?  Worn out?  Burned out on religion?  Come to me.  Get away with me and you'll recover your life.  I'll show you how to take a real rest.  Walk with me and work with me - watch how I do it.  Learn the unforced rhythms of grace.  I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you.  Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly."  ~ Matt. 11:28-30  (emphasis mine)

There's a lot to be done.  My island is covered in groceries that I neglected to put away.  My kitchen table is covered in folded laundry that I neglected to put away.  Part of my counter top is covered in jars of grape juice that I neglected to put away.

The pantry door is hanging open.  My bed is unmade.  There is produce waiting for me to turn it into something.

But I'd like to have all that wait while I sway with Jesus and learn his unforced rhythms of grace.