I know you would be disappointed if I didn't share some of my favorite memes since my last blog post (or maybe you wouldn't be disappointed. Feel free to scroll past all of the following hilariousness if that is the case.). If you follow me on Facebook or Instagram you may have seen some of these already. But, trust me, they are worth repeating.
The last one. Oh.My.Word. It took me about 30 seconds to get it and then I laughed way too hard.
Anyway, back to contemplatey.
I came across the following quote some time ago and it resonates so deeply with me.
For several years (maybe ever since I turned 30 and automatically became old and wise) I have had the same phrase whispering on repeat in my heart: be a slow and deliberate noticer.
This is difficult for someone who is a rip, $&!%, or bust kind of girl. But my life is never more fulfilling than when I open my eyes, still my movements, and actually notice what is going on around me. When I listen to that still small voice that says "See this? I made it for you".
It's often the morning sky.
Oftener still it's the glorious colors and shapes of food.
I love it when it's nature.
The handful of seeds? They're sprouting into wildflowers as we speak. A dear friend gave a small pouch of these seeds as her wedding favor.
When I planted them I was struck by the fact that just by looking at them I couldn't tell what they would become but I knew the end result would be beautiful. Just like her brand new marriage. Because Adrianne and Andrew are beautiful people, committed to the Lord and each other. It is a deep honor to count these two among my friends. I cannot wait to see what they bloom into.
Sometimes I hear the whisper to open my eyes when all around me is chaos.
March is a huge birthday month in my family. My dad, my daughter, my middle son, my sister-in-law, and three cousins. The top picture is from Jessie and Cole's combined birthday party. It was loud. Lots of people wanted to talk to me.
Mostly all at one time. We are not good with taking turns.
But that view of my people piled on my couch? I love it.
And the cousins birthday party where we all had a crown and our own cake? I love it, too.
This March ushered in a new season for Larry and I. Because of the super weird way that time works we are now the parents of a teenager even though we just brought that little girl home from the hospital last week.
And our middle son hit the double digits. And to mark the occasion, picked a cake sure to give you diabetes. I photo documented the construction of this monstrosity and pondered how I could be in such a bad mood while I created something so amazing and sweet.
Then there was my birthday.
35.
Half way to 70.
I thought by this point in life I would know a lot of things. And I do. But I also know that I still have a lot to learn. Every day that I have the privilege of waking up, I also have the privilege to be a noticer.
I noticed this scene last Saturday. Three gifts on my windowsill. A candle from my boss, a hand lettered sign from my cousin, flowers picked by two of my kids. People who know I need light, a reminder to give thanks, and some outdoor beauty brought inside. I felt loved as I considered each of these things.
And then on the other side of the windowsill.
Medicine that keeps my brain healthy. Water that keeps my body healthy. And green onions that teach a life lesson.
How do you get a life lesson out of green onions, you ask?
Well, as I stood staring at my windowsill, noticing everything, it struck me how resilient green onions are. Did you know that you can chop all the green parts off, put the roots in water, and the green part will grow again?
You can chop off all that looks like life but if what remains has the right care it will flourish again.
I want to be like those onions. Believing that even when life deals some choppy blows, if I can get my roots in some Water I'll be ok.
I had a brief but heartfelt text conversation this week with a dear loved one that I'm still ruminating over. It was laced with grief and loss but also with healing and hope. Here's the thing about getting chopped off. It takes time to grow again even if your roots are in the Water right away.
Last week my boys had some friends overnight. Two brothers who lost their mom to cancer in the fall. My throat closed and my eyes threatened to spill over more than once while they were here. One of the boys talked about his mom in the present tense. "Yeah, my mom always teases me for that," he said and I could hardly stand it.
I made them pancakes and bacon and eggs and I cut up fruit and I poured juice and I wanted to do all the mom things. But at the same time I worried that by doing the mom things I would make them miss their mom more. How is it fair that my boys still have their mom but these little sweethearts do not?
Sometimes the noticing causes pain.
But it also causes resolve. I've decided that when my kids hug me I will not be the one to pull away. I will hold them against my heart until they've had enough. Because we don't know what tomorrow holds.
There's this country song that I've been loving lately. No Such Thing As a Broken Heart. The chorus says "You've gotta love like there's no such thing as a broken heart".
Here's the thing, loving hurts. But choosing not to love? I think that's even more painful. It's tempting, sometimes, to close your heart off. It's a protective gesture. But it's a cold and lonely place to live. Real life, real love is wild and messy and warm and painful and it dances in the rain and throws it's arms wide and spins in the sunshine. It cries in the arms of another, hearts beating together. It leaves space for words of lament and silent sorrow when all the words have been said.
This song that I'm loving, it also says this:
Cry when it hurts,
laugh when it's funny.
Chase after the dreams
don't chase after the money.
Say what you will about country music, but I think that's some pretty good advice.
Here's what I would add:
Open your eyes and be a slow and deliberate noticer.
And:
Love deeply, give freely, trust Jesus wildly.
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