I seem to have lost my kept draft where I jotted grace gifts bit by bit- and so now, I must begin again. So fitting for lessons I am personally learning. To begin again.
111. talks with Todd where I unearth some of the deep and find myself free and steady
112. Morning Pages and {sometimes} Evening Pages, and despite my endless questioning, I do see the progress, the purpose, and most of all, the way I’m held together while I pull so much apart.
113. The virtual Black Barn through Paper and String and kindreds and gardens and books and poetry and prayer and beauty found there.
114. David Austin roses, and how I can’t wait to cup my very own; there is joy in the anticipation as I feast on the beauty found elsewhere
115. The {upgraded and brand new} monitor now successfully working on the erg. I will soon venture for my first row; it does feel like a voyage. I am nervous; how many meters am I actually rowing? Oh well. On, on. {since I wrote this, I have rowed thousands of meters (and kept a record of them) and been drenched in sweat; the monitor pushes us forward!}
116. Work with my darlings around the property; plantings, and mulch, and weeding, and trimming, and even washing. I do enjoy watching their interactions.
117. Two new needed beds for children, set up and settled
118. The Misfit box full of so much goodness: cilantro! cherry tomatoes, kale, squash, cauliflower, lemons, the best apples they ever tasted, and more.
119. hot, sweet coffee, foamy and good
120. the music teachers who keep showing up amidst technology blips and the sometimes strange time warp of these days
121. my son involved with his school’s (which was my school’s) IV- and all that actually means for me down in my soul. Chapter Camp{ish}.
122. They way they are still able to connect with their college people, and the friendships they build
123. Friendship for my rising high school senior that is good and true
124. The go ahead for foreign langauge and French classes, and we both sigh relief; and I see her almost hidden happiness. She can do this.
125. The way they chortle their wonder when they find peonies on Minecraft
126. We lost Todd’s grandfather. Todd made it safely to PA and back in a day, to be a presence, and honor the man who held such a huge role in his life for so many years. He refused any of the rest of us going, and I know there might be plans for a Memorial Mass at some unknown point in the future. The lack of closure brings tears to my eyes. I think about Easter and how we heard his voice as joined the Zoom call with Grammy via phone. How lovely it is to hear his signature laugh and jokes still in my head. Death is an abyss I do not understand, and this has always been true for me.
127. Black 8 1/2 by 11 Journals and little 5 by 8 inch ones, too
128. An SAT date on the calendar {again}
129. Six of my people, finished with their 2019/2020 school year (mostly)
130. Fresh squeezed lemonade on ice, while on the porch, with the Maryland sky; and all the spring greening and the breeze wafting through; the air sweet, the neighborhood, quiet.
131. Their faces over the porch rail, and the head scarves for my little girls, so darling! Most of all their friendship and quick conversation and sweet plans for summer. We cannot wait.
132. The slow way I am learning to be free; but free, I will be.
133. The clean, clean kitchen and my hands still wrinkled and tight from being deep in hot water and soap
134. The peonies, Shasta daisy, coreopsis, carnations. zinnias, vincas, pepper plants, and {future} roses that make up my at-home cultivation. Somehow, calling out the names one by one endears each living treasure to my heart even more. And I remember her. I remember dear Sharon who spoke each plant’s name as though it was a dear and kindred friend. Her gardens were (and are) magical. The columbine, forever pressed upon my mind. One day, I will have columbine, too.
135. Working in the sunlit kitchen alongside Nathanael, making platters of veggies and salad; while he washes dishes, and we enjoy the companionship of music we both love.
136. a drive with Todd to pickup Walmart groceries (possibly our new normal) and good conversation
137. a cozy desk set-up with beloved books, candles, journals, Bible time resources, my own chair, and more. Every day grateful for its beautiful, inviting space.
138. Tall, slim golden candles on twin birthday cakes sprinkled with gold stars and bedecked with my very own first attempt at home-made marshmallow fondant. Roses and stars (and hearts).
139. Time in the grass at eventide to watch them catch fireflies, and she catches a wee one and holds it gently. How far she’s come.
140. Summer Mummers and a swim afternoon at Courtney’s: my mind filled with beautiful images and joy.
141. a little desk set-up for my girl, giving her space where she could see no space and she has her own flowers and computer setup and a rapidly growing collection of darling knitted creations.
142. a sudden jolting awareness of an injury that requires extreme measures to heal (no dancing for weeks, physical therapy); it is a gift because it is a pause. It is a gift because it is protective. It is a gift because it allows me to dig deeper into the quiet, still depths I need and crave and am driven toward so desperately.
143. All the pizazz Asher brings to whatever he does: a watermelon carved expertly and “presented” appealingly on platters for small sisters’ birthday dinner- only the latest. He can jazz up anything, I do believe. And, O! how I love it.
144. The way the struggle to count gifts reveals my lack of Presence in my life; my lack of attention and calls me back to that place where I can see once more.
145. Callouses on both hands, and we sit side-by-side and compare our “rower hands.” We callous in different places, and he says: “It’s just how it is; if you row, you get callouses.” Matter-of-fact and accepting and he even wears gloves. I run my finger over the hard roughness, tracing the somewhat tender outline. Somehow, I have one on my thumb. Well, I’m glad I don’t need silky smooth palms. I’ve got three good ones on one hand and four on the other. And they mean I’m showing up. I’m showing up, and I’m not stopping, even when it’s hard, even when I have to fight for it, even when I don’t want to, and even when, as others have shared with me, it feels awful- because sometimes, it really does.
146. Picture book challenge, and I try hard to gather my little girls every day as we endeavor to read every picture book in our house. And, — it is my favorite time of day. Flopped on the bed, ensconced by pillows and wee, small silky heads. And I get to share my favorites, and they get to find their favorites, and I act on something that is deeply important to my heart. So far, they treasure Miss Fannie’s Hat– and, so do I. So, do I.
147. I give up my beloved desk for a week, and when I am back at it, with my candle lit, and music soaring forth, I breathe a little deeper. Grateful for this space.
148. A birthday trip for my girl and the way friends wrapped us round with beauty, comraderie, brave faces behind masks. A magical table under the arms of trees with truly the most delicious lunch I could ever imagine. Chipotle, potato waffles, lilies, and fans to ward off the hot sun. Her playlist and our car talks. I love inviting my teens to share their music with me. It is a window into the heart and such a way to build relationship. I have always known music’s power. Step-by-step, I learn them this way, too.
149. Several (!) walks around a North Wales neighborhood, WITHOUT a brace, WITHOUT having to stop, WITHOUT my back cramping. It was like a miracle; it is forever an Endless Gift. Remember, and keep getting on that rowing machine- even when it’s hard; even when it feels awful; even when I have to fight for the time. It works. I told a son I don’t row because I like it; I row for life.
150. Endless Gifts in pictures: June into July 2020:
The Father Daughter dance that didn’t happen, but the great picture memory forever; birthday with Lanie; twins birthday; we love to find hearts in the world- chip heart; fabulous birthday cake for my parents; Joshua’s Lembas bread; Abi’s sweet desk setup; Abi at PT for the first time; Zinnias and Nathanael; Micah and the wee girls getting ready for MaryLu’s visit; small girls who took the photo with the ray of shining light; my arms full: God fills arms with babies, with beauty, with love, with life, with zinnias!!!; twins’ birthday cakes; heart pancake; young man strolls in in my 1992 track and field shirt, and it becomes him; Maryland sky; June Mummers bonfire; bracelet heart; Abi and I, girl trip 2020.
The days slip away; I struggle to attend. I fight battles in my mind. I fight sorrow in my heart. I traverse an ocean of fear and uncertainty. I try to be brave. I try to navigate with whatever adept skill I can summon.
I count gifts, and I’m grateful.
I say to my children: who do I love? who do I love? and shyly, sweetly, bashfully at times, they say: me, me, me. Yes, darlings, you. You forever. And you, and you, and you.
{and you}
When I can’t find my way, when I am gone under: under criticism, disapproval, misunderstanding, harsh judging, under anxiety, abandon, apathy, and hurt: the Way finds me. It is good to be found and to know myself, in the candle-lit, quiet time where I am free.
-Rebecca