the words she's waited for

When I was younger, I'd read in dim light.  Loved it.  Crystal clear the words ran across the page.

"You will ruin your eyes, Sara," my mother intoned, day after night after day.

I read a lot.

At night.

A lot being hours upon hours.  Until 11 with my light on, and afterward under covers with a flashlight.

Smart cookie, was I.

Now a days...

I'm the one.

Ever laugh at yourself because you are your mother or father?  Words leak out and it sounds like you when they are thought but as they whisk away from your mouth to the air...it's another.

"Cooper, may I please turn up this light?"

You know what I realized?  He can see...it's me who can't!

Me, who valiantly and vainly tried to fail a vision test to decorate myself with glasses (hey, it was 7th grade and I was in an awkward stage).

Me, who always yearned for spectacles.  They make a blond girl look smarter, right?

Well.  My time has come.  My ship has reached safe harbor.

Good thing there's good lighting in my ship's mooring.  I can't read at night anymore without getting so
s o  s o tired.  And words kind of slide off the page.

Yep.  I need the readers now.  And like any good girl, now that I need 'em I don't really want them.

But I also find now that I am sounding like my Maman.  Surely she must have needed readers when she implored me to turn my light up or off.

This midlife stuff is silly.  But it is also sort of fun to hear my mom in me.  I like her a lot, after all.  If I have to sound like someone, she's a good someone to resemble.

My middle name is Ann.

:)

Mom, I turn my lights way up now.  And I can assure you I'm not reading past 11pm.  Promise.  Cross my heart.

He is R I S E N

the third day.

Sunday has come.

Hallelujah!

'zona!

We are headed to Arizona!

Off to see Gogo and Pa!

c a n n o t  wait.

Nothing left here to do but throw everything in our bags and head out the door.

House cleaned, laundry done.  Check, check.

So I'm making grilled pesto salmon and asparagus with goat cheese for dinner.  Because nothing says spring like salmon and asparagus.  Yummmmmmmmm.

Jim should be home anytime, and then we are ALL on spring break.  It is the perfect time to get away and "check out" for a week.  We are very ready to relax, unwind and rejuvenate together.

A special treat this year is that my dear friend from growing up, Cori, will be there with her family visiting her parents.  I am very much looking forward to some precious time catching up with her and all the Zdebels.

We anticipate lots of pool time, many a hike, home-squeezed grapefruit juice galore, some horseback riding, boy mountain bike rides, a Passover seder meal, visiting mom and dad's church, sleeping in, reading books (we hit the library today!), playing games, the annual Olympics, and being all together in once place for an entire week.  A slice of heaven here.

So off we go to see spring arise in desert-land.  Can't wait to see you, Mom and Dad!

The Lord has done great things for us

psalm 126:3

He is good.  He is always good.

and we are filled with joy.

Because of the works of His hands, we are what we are and I am who I am.

Completion comes from walking in the places He desired and ordains.

Some high and hard, some vast and bountiful.

And they all have mattered.

Oh, Jehovah!  You are so marvelous.

I am truly filled with joy in You.

Spurgeon writes in his book, "The Treasury of David" about his psalm and says in part,

Let us avow our joy, and the reason of it, stating the "whereof" as well as the fact. None are so happy as those who arc newly turned and returned from captivity; none can more promptly and satisfactorily give a reason for the gladness that is in them, the Lord himself has blessed us, blessed us greatly, blessed us individually, blessed assuredly; and because of this we sing unto his name.

 Those who go out weeping, carrying seed to sow,

will return with songs of joy

carrying sheaves with them.

-psalm 126:6

Sheaves of joy!

A harvest reaped after being sown in tears.

Isn't that amazing?

Spurgeon expounds on this verse writing,

Hence, present distress must not be viewed as if it would last for ever; it is not the end, by any means, but only a means to the end. Sorrow is our sowing, rejoicing shall be our reaping. If there were no sowing in tears there would be no reaping in joy. If we were never captives we could never lead our captivity captive. Our mouth had never been filled with holy laughter if it had not been first filled with the bitterness of grief. We must sow: we may have to sow in the wet weather of sorrow; but we shall reap, and reap in the bright summer season of joy. Let us keep to the work of this present sowing time, and find strength in the promise which is here so positively given us.

 If we were never captive we would never lead our captivity captive...

That line made me stop.  

Leading my captivity captive.

Oh, Lord.  Let it be so!

 Arms heavy-laden with sheaves.

A bountiful harvest.

Not just one.

Many.

For some reason, when the Lord worked this psalm in my heart,

I always pictured lavender sheaves.  

Not sure why, it's just the beautiful picture He gave me.

The last verse is exposited thusly by Spurgeon:

Yes, good husbandman, doubtless you will gather sheaves from your sowing. Because the Lord has written doubtless, take heed that you do not doubt. No reason for doubt can remain after the Lord has spoken. You will return to this field—not to sow, but to reap; not to weep, but to rejoice; and after awhile you will go home again with nimbler step than today, though with a heavier load, for you shall have sheaves to bear with you. Your handful shall be so greatly multiplied that many sheaves shall spring from it; and you shall have the pleasure of reaping them and bringing them home to the place from which you went out weeping.

 I want to R U N

through the field to my Father, 

shouting my songs of joy,

gaping in awe at the harvest because of my good and faithful God.

He is good.

Always.

In everything.

shiny

I cleaned part of the house today.

And then laid on the floor with my back all twingey and funny.

Alternately grinning like a fool that 40 has wrought such changes as this, and having a bit of an ol' pity party.

36 and rainy didn't help matters.

And since I've given up cheese and bread these days, neither did my yearning hunger for a grilled cheese.

I settled for a drive down the creek.  You know, move on out when settling into the mood is working too well.  It worked wonders.

Drove ALL THE WAY down that creek from over near Penn to 35.  CBA, I drove by your first house and smiled.  Then wanted to lay down on the ground a have a little cry.

Good memories.

Good times.

So, my house has parts of it that are shiny and sparkly.  Just not all.

Tomorrow a new day.  And I must tackle the floors.  My kitchen, you ask?  Unspeakable.  The girls have been cooking.  Enough said.  Oh, the girly girls.  Mayhem and flying flour.

Aren't you glad to know my monotony.  I've got nothing else.  And this must suffice.

I think I might need the "quiet old lady whispering hush" tonight.  :)

Gogo, you aren't old enough and your room isn't green, but you could say that to me.  Or hand me a red balloon.  That's cheerful.

Over.

Out.