It will flame out, like shining from shook foil...
from God's Grandeur
by Gerard Manley Hopkins
Watch for the Grandeur...
Worship the Giver.
The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil...
from God's Grandeur
by Gerard Manley Hopkins
Watch for the Grandeur...
Worship the Giver.
I lift up my eyes to the hills.
From where does my help come?
My help comes from the LORD,
who made heaven and earth.
Psalm 121:1,2 ESV
I have never quite understood the argument against following Jesus that included the phrase, “it's just a crutch.” Maybe when I was younger (much, much younger) I lived out of the unexamined assumption that I was invincible.
Or at least strong.
But I know differently now.
I am weak and needy and some days I wonder if I have two broken legs.
Even on my best days, I walk with a limp.
A crutch? Yes please. ...And all I can say is thank you, because...
I need You, oh, I need You;
every hour I need You.
My one defense, my righteousness,
O God how I need You.
And when I cannot stand I'll fall on You...so I guess that means I'm carried. Just another reason for gratitude. September 13 Soul Stretch - Remember to ask for help. And then, say thank you!
I am so grateful God created the world in living color...
I can't help but think He knew how much these tones and shades
would enrich our gray ordinary days,
would pull our hearts toward His,
and so He splashed our lives with unexpected loveliness.
"Never lose an opportunity of seeing anything beautiful, for beauty is God's handwriting."
Usually, I don't have to look far.
I just have to look.
So, today I'm posting some phrases in the handwriting of God
written across my days here on Hickory Lane.
It is my hope that you would let your soul expand in worship of the Creator
as you take a second look at his first rate, color saturated creations.
I think I would have kept it simple with turtles,
theme and variation on shades of brown.
But not God.
He added brilliant orange to half hidden scaly feet,
and flecked an ordinary shell with wavy golden highlights.
I think the handwriting on this canvas says, "Even the hidden ones matter to Me."
Not this fellow!
I always know where he is because he's always telling me,
loudly, boldly, incessantly.
He doesn't seem to know he's just a little banty rooster;
he thinks he's king of the pasture.
And with his flashy colors, maybe he is.
I love the extra "fancy feathers" in deep copper along his back.
What's written here?
This photo reminded me of an old old song:
I come to the garden alone while the dew is still on the roses..(or the rain is still on the lupines?)
And the voice I hear falling on my ear the Son of God discloses.
And He walks with me and He talks with me, and He tells me I am His own;
and the joy we share as we tarry there none other has ever known.
When this little bluebird lands on the wire above my garden,
he greets me with his characteristic low whistle warble,
and I say, "Oh, hello to you, little friend. Thanks for stopping by."
I take each of his visits personally,
and my heart swells with gratitude to the One
who created this small package of marvelous feathers.
And God saw everything that He had made,
it was very good.
Yes indeed, it was very, very good.
And all I can say is,
Today's Soul Stretch brought to you and me in living color!!! HumminB
It's that time of year again on Hickory Lane, grapes galore. Although the extremely dry summer conditions impacted fruit production, we still have lots of grapes which all need to be harvested at about the same time. Now.
It's a tedious, sticky job, and it's easy for me to get lost in the details and overlook the big picture...jars and jars of deep purple juice all winter long,
This week I was keeping an eye open for "soul stretch" moments as I sorted and stemmed the sticky little orbs for a few hours most days. And my perspective came around, once again, to gratitude.
A few weeks ago our Sunday morning worship leader challenged us with these words from a wall hanging he sees every day:
It's not the happy people who are thankful, it's the thankful people who are happy.
So, if I wanted to be a happy person, cutting, sorting, washing and steaming grapes, for hours (and hours and more hours) the secret was to be found in thankfulness.
Delicious grape sweetness on my tongue.
Soft grass underfoot.
Strength to carry ladened bowls.
Conversations with neighbors across the fence.
Tiny chipping sparrow nest.
Aroma of grapes.
Water to wash sticky hands.
Time to pray, aloud.
Two chipping sparrow nests.
Such a view
My bowl of thankfulness filled and overflowed, and it wasn't nearly as heavy to carry as that pan of grapes...
In everything give thanks, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you (and ME!)
I Thessalonians 5:18
When the chicken fracas awakened me at too-early-o'clock this morning, my stomach lurched itself into a knot before I had both eyes open. At the last minute, plans for the day had been thrown awry on myraid fronts, and that rock in my gut reminded me that "Summertime and the Livin' is Easy" wasn't a song I could honestly sing. Or hum. Or even mumble.
I stumbled downstairs for coffee, and oh.
Sunrise. The view from my kitchen window looked like this, and promised "more to come."
So I, in my pj's and poppy pink toenails ventured out among the bird choir - wren! robin! song sparrow! catbird! - to capture the beauty. Instead it captured me, and these words rushed into my thoughts as my ordinary little Hickory Lane world was washed in spendor:
Sun comes up, it's a new day dawning,
It's time to sing Your song again.
Whatever may pass or whatever lies before me,
Let me be singing when the evening comes.
It had been awhile since my soul connected with this song, since I'd hummed it, or even thought about it.
(You can listen to it here while you read the blog!)
The glory washed over me,
as I stood by the mailbox, camera in hand, (click, click)
waving sheepishly to a vanload of Amish neighbors on their way to work, (oh,there she is with that camera again.)
Something in me rose to the challenge of that simple song:
"Let me be singing when the evening comes."
Let me be singing? Well, who would hinder me?
Oh. Only me.
So, I gave myself these instructions, courtesy of Matt Redman:
Bless the Lord oh my soul, oh my soul,
worship His holy name.
sing like never before, oh my soul,
I'll worship Your holy name.
And then I resolved to keep watching, all day long, for the ten thousand reasons I had to keep singing. No matter what. And, I chose a tool to help me "see," to help me remember.
Yep, my camera. In my very ordinary day, I found the following reasons for joy, for gratitude, even for singing.(No there aren't 10,000 photos...I will just share a handful of the 62 choices!)
I walked through the garden and found these blanket flowers and larkspurs in first light...
I am grateful for eyes to see them.
This redbud tree is dying, but it is still transformed by the radiance in which it stands.
These heart shaped leaves always remind me of God's unfailing love for me. Again, I'm grateful.
My friendships in the neighborhood continue to grow. I am so grateful for these good women who work hard and love their families; even when their lives look very different from mine, I am discovering and creating threads of connection. Today we discovered we both read magazines from back to front, and we can always laugh so hard about the antics of her son with his pet goose (what animal doesn't that boy love?)
I share books with her children. ("We LOVE them," Annie exclaimed with unexpected fervor on a previous visit.)
And she sells me strawberries.
Oh the lusciousness of no spray berries from the neighborhood. Mmmm. It's easy to be grateful now...four batches of jam later, it might be challenging. But I will choose.
I made a quick trip to our local Mom and Pop grocery store for noodles (because a huge batch of chicken corn and noodle soup was planned for supper for us and an ailing neighbor) and I am grateful
to shop so locally,
to know every employee by name,
to find most of what I need in a little place I can almost see from my backyard!
By the time the soup was bubbling, it was time to fold laundry, and then I grabbed a few minutes of porch time. Oh, I am so grateful for porch pause. And someone reminded me to keep singing.
I don't have words for how grateful I am for birds and for all that they teach me. If a house wren can bubble out a melody of joy mid-morning when it has spent hours building a little nest out of sticks it has carried one at a time in its mouth...I too can overflow with gratitude.
And then it was time to hit the road. Those quiet morning moments were made possible by a Cave Camp held at a local cavern, and today it was my turn to pick up the guys. They hung out at our house for the afternoon, after some Father's Day shopping and an ice cream treat. (I forgot to take a picture, but I didn't forget to be grateful. Mint chocolate chip was the special custard flavor today...ahh.) I also forgot to pick up the caulking we'd just bought for one of their projects; we walked out of the store and left the tube on the counter. But somehow, when we were home and discovered it, I didn't lose track of gratitude. I was able drive down that road one more time and retrieve the caulk, grateful that I had a vehicle, grateful that the boys were fixing a leak, grateful to have a more open afternoon....(remember those disappointing changes in the plans for the day?)
I am grateful for the good friends that bless my son's life, and mine!
And so my ordinary day continued.
I heard lots of laughter, and that wren sang all day long. I delivered noodle soup, and we gathered at the table to fill our own bowls. I sent a few e-mail messages, and watered all my houseplants and outside planters. Tomorrow's caving clothes and gear accumulated in the kitchen, and I washed a pile of dishes.
Soon it was evening, and those strawberries were still waiting, so I listened to a fascinating World Book Club podcast and the berries turned into jam. Lots of jam.
And when the day ended, I was still grateful for my life with its berry box full of reasons for gratitude, spilling over and adding color and flavor and sweetness to what was a very ordinary day.
Let me be singing when the evening comes.
December 21. Four days until Christmas. “Are you ready for Christmas?” is a common question these days…checking lists…what remains to be done before The Day?
How about pause.
(Maybe next week???)
No, I suggest, I urge, now.
Today. And maybe again tomorrow.
Pause. Because you need The Presence.
The hunting season is paused for a few weeks, and
I need the exercise,
I need the woods,
I need to think,
I need to pause,
This is a good prayer for such a day, for such a season:
O God, You are my God.
I seek you earnestly.
My soul thirsts for you… longs for you…
As in a dry and weary land
where there is no water.
(Or at least no snow so far this winter.)
I wander up the path. The woodspace is open now;
leafless trees pause in the life cycle for rest, to go deep, to wait for spring.
Bird song is muted; no murmur of a breeze can be heard.
Not one squirrel announces my presence; we’ve had a sudden cold snap and they are hunkered down in their messy looking dreys.
It’s a still place.
But it is not empty.
I am halfway to wherever when I finally tune in to the whispers of life surrounding me.
I hear a great horned owl calling, low and steady, pause, repeat. The call is repeated in a higher pitch far up the mountain. Mating season comes early for these predators.
Woodpeckers tap.tap.tap. their steady rhythms and call out the warnings
when I encroach on their space.
The raucous alarm cry of the pileated woodpecker raises my curiosity and I stand, pause long, until I spot him, high in the canopy. (Sorry, no clear picture!) I wait him out, and he forgets me, or decides I’m not a threat, and resumes his busy-ness- he is dangling, twisting, snatching red berries from a bittersweet vine twined sixty feet above the forest floor. Looks like a happenin’ Christmas party for one.
I see other signs of forest activity. Someone has cleared a fallen tree from the path and neatly stacked the wood. Something has torn apart a log in search of a snack; I notice a recently excavated hole about the size of a chipmunk…it’s nap time.
Long unseen fingers of frozenness have brushed across the pond, adding crackle glaze to tree reflections.
I could turn around now, and it would be enough-
But I choose otherwise. This time I will not rush home. This is a different kind of power walk…
I hear the water before I see the glory,
a stream of water gushing from a hidden source deep in the heart of the mountain.
It is my favorite resting place on a hot summer afternoon. Beyond this spot, the path disintegrates into a tangle of thorny canes and tick cover and snake rocks, but right here, a reservoir overflows with pure clearness that quenches more than my thirst today.
It’s been just cold enough, and the ice beauty catches me off guard. Oh, dear God, You did this. For me?
I doubt anyone else has seen it, just this way, this day. My eyes, my soul can barely take it in.
I see a host of ice fractals, patterned in a multitude of designs.
A waterfall of icicles flows from one nondescript twig.
This one makes me smile...(is this what happens to naughty aliens?)
I stand back to take in the delicate ring of ice formations…ummm, did You intend that to be heart shaped?
And then, ohhh...these exquisite ferns.
I’m out of words and on my knees,
to see this breathtaking beauty,
to capture photos so I will remember,
to say "thank you."
Psalm 63:2-4 continues:
So I have looked upon You, I have seen You – to gaze at, to perceive, to contemplate with pleasure. This is a more poetic word than the usual “seen.” It refers to a prophetic vision and insight, to seeing God.
In the sanctuary – a sacred place. “God’s presence is what makes any place, anything, or anyone holy.” (Note from NASB Key Word Study Bible, OT entry 6944) Moses heard God’s voice at the burning bush, “...the place on which you are standing is holy ground.” It was his unexpected encounter with the living God in an ordinary place that became holy. Yes. I get that. I'm standing stock still on holy frozen ground.
I don’t take my shoes off…brrr... but my soul kneels and my heart is raised in praise to this One who would pause to create this place of pause to meet my need,
to meet me.
My lips will praise you – to address in a loud tone! (I’m doing it, yes I am, because my heart is overflowing, and I just want to thank Someone.)
Because Your steadfast love – your lovingkindness, your unfailing love
Is better than life itself.
I will bless /honor/praise You as long as I live; I will lift up my hands in Your name.
Jesus, You whom we
during this frantic, festive season,
I will pause to praise You as long as I live,
or at least, let me be singing when the evening comes.
I’ve heard a lot of talk about gratitude lately. People are blogging about gratitude, lists having been popping up on Facebook, and gratitude journals abound…a quick google search yielded 36 options available for purchase before a repeat appeared, and there were plenty more to follow. Even Wikipedia has a gratitude journal page:
"A gratitude journal is a diary of things for which one is grateful. Gratitude journals are used by individuals who wish to focus their attention on the positive things in their lives."
This definition is followed by a lengthy summary of current research citing the benefits of keeping some sort of written record (a place to document one’s reasons for gratitude) as well as studies examining the most effective methods:
– How often to write it down – daily? weekly?
-How many examples to include – (Most studies investigating gratitude journals have found that including 3-10 items in each gratitude journal entry yields the most beneficial results.)
The word gratitude seems to be a more trendy term for the old fashioned word we are celebrating today:
And as I read and reread the above article and others, I wondered about the glaring omission of the second half of the word, the “giving” part of thanksgiving. As I read social media lists of "thanks for my family and my friends and all this food…” it seemed as if the whole world…(okay, country, on this national holiday) was grateful in an inch deep “hooray for my stuff” kind of way.
Is this all there is to Thanksgiving? Maybe so. Maybe that’s why the day supposedly devoted to gratitude for “all we have” is celebrated by over-consumption and followed immediately by Black Friday, a day characterized by greed and all that is ugliest about the Christmas shopping season. Maybe Thanksgiving Day = I love all my stuff and Black Friday = I just need more stuff…for other people of course. (Is this the “giving” part?)
It seems that many of us are using the word “thanksgiving,” saying what it is for which we are giving thanks without acknowledging to whom we are giving thanks.
In normal daily living this would be considered unacceptable or at least awkward: Consider these comments:
This Christmas I am giving a basketball.
I am going to give a piece of my mind.
I will be giving $1000.
The question screaming to be answered is “to whom.” Am I giving the basketball to you? Who is the unfortunate one on the receiving end of a piece of my mind?...(a piece I am likely to miss sorely, and which will cost me my own peace of mind…but that’s a different post.) Who is the lucky recipient of $1000?
In whispered moments this Thanksgiving Day, I think I hear these questions:
To whom am I giving thanks?
Is my focus mostly on the gifts,
or am I centered on the Giver?
When I am thankful for my family,
for my table loaded with food,
for my houseful of stuff
– am I just feeling smug that I’ve got all this, am I glad that my kids are so amazing, am I proud of myself and pleased that I could accumulate all this stuff?? Oh, ouch.
This is not what I want, not who I want to be. But I don’t want to give up, I want to move forward to a better place. So…I take another look, at
Gratitude? Oh, yes I want to be a person of gratitude! I don’t want to just throw in the towel, I want to wash the grime from my face, my soul, and feel the soft warmth of the towel for the gift it is.
A gratitude journal? I’ve been keeping one for years, and I won’t stop now. I am living out the benefits every day – reduced anxiety and depression, increased resilience, a perspective that helps me see what is good in every (hard) day! But I don't want to lose track of the Source of these amazing gifts.
Thanksgiving Day celebration? I want to say “Yes!”
- yes to gathering with those I love,
-yes to remembering and being grateful for loved ones who aren’t here,
-yes to enjoying family traditions (My part is hickory nut cake and baked corn as usual) and
-yes to laughter and camaraderie around the table.
But underlying all this,
I want to restore and strengthen my foundation of gratitude,
of thanks giving,
the One from whom all blessings flow.
I want to be grateful not just for the gifts, but even more,
for the Giver of every good and perfect gift. (James 1:17)
And for the other gifts, the ones I can’t see as perfect or even good?
For those gifts I also trust the Giver, who makes all things beautiful in His time. (Ecclesiastes 3:11)
And at the top of today's gratitude list?
The promised Presence.
On days when the turkey smell wanders like a good memory through every room -
gratitude for The Presence.
And on days when I wander, room to room, grieving for reasons I cannot explain -
gratitude for The Presence.
For God has said, “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.” (Hebrews 13:5)
God chooses to be present,
I will choose to be grateful.
Not only for the gifts, but even more, for the Giver.
O give thanks to the Lord, for He is good.; for His steadfast love endures forever.
Psalm 136:1 RSV
“And every year there is a brief, startling moment
When we pause in the middle of a long walk home and
Suddenly feel something invisible and weightless
Touching our shoulders, sweeping down from the air:
It is the autumn wind pressing against our bodies;
It is the changing light of fall falling on us.”
Edward Hirsch from Wild Gratitude
Thank you, Edward Hirsch for giving us these words, these reasons for wild gratitude on a cold autumn day. HumminB.
Like everyone else, I blinked twice, and August slipped away like sunset clouds on a late summer evening. Suddenly it’s time to resume school schedules and routines, and that’s not all bad. Now that Youngest Mystery is in a brick and mortar school for most of each day, I’ve re-discovered the glory of morning porch moments! The word “delicious” comes to mind, a feast for the soul with a side of coffee. I'm establishing a new routine, and I'm loving it!
One neglected tradition I’d like to resume this season is posting more consistently from my gratitude list…maybe not every Thursday, but frequently. And, I would love to have you join me!!
This practice started years ago, during Lent and you can read more about that here: http://brendazook.weebly.com/blog/living-lent
I’ve tried to “move on” from The List several times, to no avail. Perhaps it is the perfect fit for me – a daily list for a chronic list maker. But this list is different.
I don’t check things off,
I add them on,
line by line,
seven items a day, my list of thankfulness.
Some days, the page can hardly contain the entries – blessings so great I struggle to find words to describe them.
But most days my list is filled with ordinary moments where I caught a glimpse of something More. Moments when I paused just a second longer, where I sat and waited, and felt gratitude wash over me in a wave of unexpected joy.
And then there are days (like Wednesday) when I feel like I am barely making it, when life is harder than I ever thought it would/should be, when finding moments for gratitude doesn’t even make my “to do” list.
Those are the days I need my list the most.
So, whatever kind of day you are having, let me urge you to begin the keeping of The List. I think you will find it habit forming in the best possible way…Here we go, for today:
Thursdays are for thankfulness – gratitude for big lessons from small things.
1. Spinach leaves emerging for a fall crop.
Planting seeds is a form of Hope Therapy. It means the planter believes that life goes on, that the end of summer isn’t really The End; it’s just a transition to What’s Next. I like seeing more brown earth in the garden now that the growing season is fading, but I miss the fresh newness of spring. These little shoots help me to embrace what’s coming with the promise of just a few more green salads from Hickory Lane before…(you know…snow.) Transitions tend to be big stress points on Hickory Lane, and I need this reminder to look for little green shoots, to find ways to ease through the change without denying it, to hold on to hope, to remember that this isn’t the end. It’s just a transition to “What’s Next.”
2. Frog visitor on water lily leaves.
This little fellow showed up two days ago from who knows where. When I saw him perched on that floating leaf, a living illustration from a children’s storybook, I thought maybe it was worthwhile after all to have invested in yet another (non-blooming) pond lily. Life is like this, regularly. You invest in something with a goal to an expected end, and it just doesn’t bloom. The leaves float there, lonely and forlorn, and not even a hint of a bud appears. It seems it was all for nothing. And then a little frog shows up and you realize that while it wasn’t how you planned it, life is still good.
3. Bird on a wire.
These small creatures of delicate beauty seem to love the unsightly, bulky wire(s) that crisscross the view above my garden. Not just the ordinary birds, but all of my special favorites -hummingbird, tree swallow, bluebird, goldfinch, orchard oriole-perch and preen and sing from The Wire.
And I’ve noticed something: That old wire doesn’t seem so ugly when tiny wings are resting there, held above impossibly thin legs with even thinner toe/claws clinging tightly to The Wire. My perspective is being altered because my beloved birds spend so much time perched on it, suspended above the garden as I work. Oh, the transformation that happens when perspective is refocused.
4. Morning glory bloom.
These crazy vines have been surreptitiously attempting to take over the garden. The asparagus patch is a snarl of vines, as are the cosmos plants in the east corner of the garden. Worst of all, the heirloom yellow rose bush is disappearing, and de-vining those thorn covered branches will be painful.
But look at that blossom. The exquisite beauty of these flowers cannot be ignored. And the leaves are heart shaped, so there’s that. Some days it’s important to be watchful for beauty and signs of God’s love in unlikely places.
5. Quiet moments in a small space.
Most days, long hours for quiet reverie don’t exist for most of us. Life goes zipping along at full speed, and the luxury of long lazy days is only a dream or a vacation destination that happens annually at best.
But moments? Everyone has moments. The pauses between the happenings of our lives are waiting to be noticed and claimed.
Look around (and let the phone alone for a bit. That little piece of technology is nibbling away at irretrievable moments.) Really see what is around you.
Listen for…whatever you might hear. Bird song. Children’s laughter. Silence. The ticking of the wall clock, marking the seconds of your moment of pause.
Taste/Smell/Touch…glass of cold water when you've finished mowing, new bar of soap in the shower, hair swirling in a light breeze...
Now it's your turn.
Find your small reasons for gratitude
and listen for the big lessons God has for you along the way.
Thursdays are for thankfulness…
but any day is a good day to start The List!!
A bit over four weeks ago, I waved goodbye to some remarkable people at The Mustard Seed ministry, and I still think about them every day. I’d like to take a few minutes to introduce you to some of the people who are quietly changing the world by changing their corner of the world.
You’ve already met Mama Julia if you read my previous post. How to describe her, hmmm. I want to say she is the brains behind it all, but I think it would be more accurate to say she is the heart beating beneath this crucial ministry. She leans hard on God, but there are still day (and nights) when she worries…
if money will come in to pay for the next month’s electric on her prepayment meter,
if she will be able to find the medicine this child needs to keep maintaining a level of relative health in the face of challenging odds,
if that child will find help for his deepest needs.
Julia loves Jesus with her whole broken heart, and she talks with Him about all the children God brings to her.
Jessica’s tiny daughter lives at the Mustard Seed house too, and she adds a lot of sparkle to an already lively household. She learned to crawl the Monday after Mother’s Day, a milestone that brought laughter and celebration. It’s hard to imagine what her future will be, but to God that piece is clear. If “He’s got the whole world in His hands,” we can trust that He won’t drop this little one.
This is Julia’s son, Daniel. He has a gentle nature and a heart to help. He has recently completed his Motor Mechanics course (with distinction!!) He is an ambitious young man in search of a job in a crazy world. (This is what makes Mamas everywhere pray every day.) While I was visiting, he kindly shared his room with his mom, while she insisted I sleep in her room.
Joshua is the oldest of Julia’s children, and he is an integral part of the Mustard Seed ministry these days. Joshua is quietly intense…I don’t know when he sleeps. His deep love for the children is evident in the time he invests in helping with homework and figuring out the soccer schedule. Again. I never heard him raise his voice; I did overhear a long and impassioned talk he had with the Mustard Seed soccer players, explaining to them that the soccer program isn’t just about soccer. He talked about character development, about following God, and about rising up to be the next level of leaders among the Mustard Seed children. He is thoughtfully modeling this strategy as he interacts in the watching community.
Earlier this year, as I read Julia’s posts on Facebook about her feeding program, about cooking supper for 50+ kids most weekdays, I thought, “She needs to have help.” I began to pray. About that time, God sent two women to the Mustard Seed house…
Oussie devotes herself to the care of the littlest one; actually, Oussie helps with whatever needs done!! She adds a positive joyful spirit to the household as does her little granddaughter who always comes along!
There was one other pair of familiar faces at the Mustard Seed house for a while, since Joseph and Meredith both delivered me to and picked me up from QwaQwa. Both times, they spent hours doing what needed to be done around the house. The gas stove was the first and most needed project. (See where the gas canister is sitting in this picture?) Let’s just say that stove is much safer now, and the guardian angels of Julia’s household can devote themselves to other tasks. Yes, it was that bad. Julia is still scared of gas, but now Ma Nkomo doesn’t go home from work with a headache every day, and I’m betting the gas lasts a whole lot longer!
Other bits and pieces also improved under Joseph’s clever hands – his return trip brought improved flushing, a new toilet seat (Thank you Lord…) and a crazy sturdy basketball hoop. (They can slam dunk now, and nothing is going to happen to that hoop…unless they pull the post out of the ground!) Julia and I enjoyed seeing our “boys” busy together!
One night I listened as they announced their dreams and desires for the future – this one wants to be a fire fighter, another one dreams of astronomy. That one has a singular focus – soccer, soccer, soccer. This girl wants to be a social worker, a fashion designer, a teacher.
I'm finding my way beyond the maze of the "middle" years