flux

Two year olds do not come with an off switch. Yet when they finally zonk out you can't keep your eyes off their angelic, peaceful features. I think we're mesmerized because we just can't believe how effortlessly they pull off such a cunning deception and fool us over and over again into absolutely melting at the sound of their delicate snores.

Prepare yourself for another round of brutal honesty.

I feel as though I have a split personality. A part of me just says: roll with it. Life can be perfectly wonderful with one beautiful bright-eyed little girl. So be it. Just accept it. Be content. It's not about you. Be thankful for what you've got. The other part of me holds on like there's no tomorrow; hopes upon hope; longs, and yearns, and dreams for the answer to prayer. The other part of me BELIEVES that it will come about. That it was meant to be. That these particular desires will see fulfillment, a fulfillment that will give glory to God. ...and everything sad will come untrue.

So which is right? Which is true? I cannot deny either. I live daily in the tension. Maybe I will for my whole life.

Whatever I do, I will be certain to melt just a little longer when I gaze upon those pink eyelids and that tousled hair. Every day saying goodbye to the baby who I held and changed and sang to, as the girl that she is becoming all too quickly emerges.

new mercies

Renewal. Springing up from beneath the leafy carpet, these little buds come alive again. Doesn't their brilliance of color leave you speechless?

Not me. :oP But I have vowed not to make complaints about the weather.

I am finding that while I embrace this stewardship even more wholeheartedly than I did all the other places I rented/lived, I do not feel I possess this place. Though surrounded by brick and pavement and reverberations of town, the history of this small plot is old and rich, and as wild as the rice for which our street was named. Older than me, at least. Wilder? Hmm... Ohh, but certainly more content.

These bulbs lived here before me. They know more of this little bit of earth than I. When I see pictures of places I lived before, I think "Why there is my old friend! I knew you well, once. Do you remember those days? Perhaps I love you better now that time has come between us." One day this yard and these rooms will kindle that emotion, too.