I haven’t written here is so very long, the winter of 2017 to be precise. It seems that for the bulk of the past four years, the things that have weighed on my mind and that I needed to put down on paper have involved others. Rather than betray their privacy, I’ve written on good old fashioned paper, but mostly I’ve not written at all. I think I need to. I need to relearn the art of writing, the peace that it can bring. Yesterday, I sat on the porch and started writing again as I watched the sun come up over the lake. Maybe this will be a real return to writing.
I find myself in such a weird place this fall. In ways, I am more content than I can ever remember being. We were playing D and D last night. Jack’s character is in a deep dark dungeon and was asleep, so he was lying in the floor trying hard to get in a real nap. I was trying to come up with a cunning plan to rescue him without also ending up in said dungeon. B. was the DM and puppet master of the whole craziness. I looked at her, all confident and laughing as I made a spectacularly bad roll of dice, and I marveled that I am the parent of such a creature. I looked at Jack half asleep on the floor and marveled that I was the wife of this handsome man (even if I have made his hair fall out and given him wrinkles around his eyes). I needed to soak up that moment. I feel the same way every morning when he kisses me goodbye or I hug B before she heads off to class. It’s even there when I sit on the porch and watch the pasture and lake as the day begins or ends. It’s this feeling of “this is what life is supposed to be.” It is supposed to be grand passion, but it’s also supposed to fire in the chiminea at dusk and playing games with your kid and pruning tomatoes in the fall.
Things have been a bit rough the past few weeks. Last week Willie the dog was hit by a car. Bell is very upset with us and thinks he could have been saved. He couldn’t have been. I will just leave it at that, but Bell is young and sheltered in ways. I will say that I grieved him all week. I think I am also edgy because Mom’s diagnosis has terrified me. I KNOW we serve an awesome and merciful Father. I KNOW he is control. At the same time, I have really struggled. I spend too much time in head thinking about loss - we were given so much when Dad got hurt, but there was a loss. The following fall we had to go through Jack’s dad dying and hospice at home and all that entails. The next year was a repeat except with my grandfather. Last winter things weren’t so sad, but there were smaller, new causes of concern. I am trying really hard to remember to praise and be thankful and faithful and not let fear or sadness win. They still sneak up on me. It’s not just mom and knowing about chemo and surgery and all those things she will face. I have done this every change of season for a long time, just more so in the past four years. It is hard not to wish for those perfect falls when life was simple.
It’s a weird place - being so content and really deeply happy but also not. I am not sure I have found a rhythm. Maybe writing can be a little cathartic for me. I should be grading papers this morning but think I won’t. We will listen to a church service. I am toying with some fiction writing. I started something back in the slow part of the summer and then abandoned it. I want to pick it back up again but it’s scary - I am a writer of essays, not fiction. Maybe I will jump into that again today. Later, we are going down to mom and dads. My fabulous sister-in-law has arranged a family portrait to be done this afternoon. Mom has wanted a new one for a few years; it just keeps not happening, but we are making it happen today.
I know there will be some tears today - I feel fragile. I also know there is joy to be had and embraced so that is what I will try to choose today. Do that with me. Choose something to be joyful in today and give thanks for His blessings and grace.
