LOL

 Looking for giggles.  Looking for laughs.  Looking for out-loud heehaws in all the places.

In a joke so bad it must be laughed.

In a AA Milne sentence that covers half a page.

In a dogger obsessed with an-under-the-couch toy. 

In an oops-I-tripped while reading the warning, "Watch your step."

In an around-the-house phone hunt.  And around and around. 

In a cloud of stink... and it wasn't me. 

In a did I just say, "love you," to my barely-know-you neighbor?

In a headline stating the criminal has a "multiple-life" sentence.  Huh?

In a coffee stain on a white shirt in a prominent place.

In a restaurant waiting for a friend who plans to meet... tomorrow.  

In a check for 100 dollars with 5 zeros.  

In a post-phone conversation, who didn't hang up, who kept talking.  

In a, "Why doesn't this work? Oh, you have to plug it in."

In a quiet life where dog barks delight, garbage trucks thrill, and annoying timers are beautiful music.  LOL!

 

  

 

 

  

Learning

 

                                                    Learning a new craft

You would think that as a girl gets older, learning gets slower.  There are less things to learn.  The girl has learned many things, most things.  

But as the girls gets older, new learning things happen.  Many learning things.  So, in fact, learning gets faster.  There are many more things to learn. 

In extra fact, learning is rather speedy for the older girl.  There are more and more things to learn.  The girl hasn't yet learned many things like popular music lyrics and latest fashion trends and ICE means... something, but not frozen water.  She doesn't know what a Model Y looks like, what R&B sounds like, and what GRTL tastes like. 

In extra extra fact, insides fact, the older girl doesn't often know when to speak and when to not speak.  She's still learning how to be a good host, a good neighbor, a good mom.  She wants to know how to respond to pain, to lead a closer path to Jesus, to be truly authentic.  She especially needs to learn how to be and say, I'm OK.  I still need you.  Please stay with me - without burdening another.  

The older girl gets in the way of herself and stumbles over learning.   But as the girl gets older, she's still learning.  Many things.  And she wonders, she thinks, she will never really learn most things.

Crowd

The buzzer sounds.  The crowd claps.  The game's over. 

Time to find your people.  Only... she's been sitting with her 2 people.  They're found.  So who else can she find?  In the crowd.  

The crowd pours onto the gym floor.  People finding people.  Smiling and talking to people.  Gathering children and connecting with people.  In the crowd.   

She doesn't know the people.  They're not her people.  No one helps them be her people.  She's lost in the crowd.

So, she hugs her two people, grabs her coat, and escapes the crowd.  As they go find more people.  In the crowd. 

God gave us people and crowds and connections.   He gave us a longing to be a people to be found.  One day, the buzzer will sound, the crowd will clap, and she'll leave her coat for a minute, and find more people.  In the crowd. 

Snow

 

 

Oh the weather outside is frightful. 

And the heater inside’s delightful. 

Since I’ve no place to go,

Let it snow let it snow let it snow. 

This, we’d hoped to be seein

When we made our plans for bein

We’d have no place to go

While it snowed while it snowed while it snowed. 

You’d kiss me in morning light

We’d coffee right through the storm

Our hands held together tight 

My heart brimmed with your special warm. 

But now it’s just me a dreamin

Of you and our hopes once-a-schemin. 

We’d capture this beautiful show

Of the snow of the snow of the snow. 

 

My dreamin is slowly dyin

And my dear I'm still goodbyin

Please know that I love you so

Let it snow let it snow let it snow. 

Do

 

Widows do many things they've always done.  Only they do them by themselves.

Widows do their prayer walk, the one they've always done, praying right out loud, like they've always done.  They think of their neighbors, lift up their littlebears, and remember their parents.  Only they do all the praying. 

Widows do their car washing on sunny afternoons like they've always done.  They get the soap, fill the water bucket and lay out the drying towels like always.  Only they do all the hard-to-get-tos. 

Widows do their run-around-town errands like they've always done.  They pick up another milk, collect cash from the ATM, mail the package like they've always done.  Only they do all the driving, parking and running.  

Widows watch their Sunday afternoon sports, the baseball, the football, like they've always done.  They prep for the week before it starts, arrange the pillows, and have necessities close by like they've always done.  Only they do all the cheering and booing.

Widows keep doing all the things they've always done, all by themselves.  Only they do all the sweet warming, reminiscing. This widow keeps doing and remembering. 

President

 

Mr. President, uh... Mr. President? 

Ms Kathy here from WIDO news.  Could I have just a couple minutes of your time?  Yes?  OK.  I'll make this quick. 

Mr. President, were you nervous that someone might leak your secret Delaware crossing?  Did you realize the risk?  Did you know this was the beginning? Had you thought about the nation, the world power that would someday hold you in its highest esteem because of a brave night on a boat? 

Mr. President, when you emancipated slaves, did you know you were turning an industry upside down, a nation right-side up and the world alongside human morals?  Had you thought about the far-reaching disturbance you were proclaiming?  Did you wonder that leaders who succeeded you might have been slaves except for a brave speech on a podium?

Mr. President, did you know that marrying a small gal from a small town would make you a leader to face challenges beyond your abilities, but that abilities would find and equip you to overcome each one.  Did you wonder how you'd feed your family when your employer let you go?  Did you ever doubt the example you set before them?  Had you thought how to release your beloved sons from shelter to society?  Did you ever imagine that these same sons would president their own families because of a brave, sacrificial love?

Mr. President do you realize that your name will outlive you?  That your mark on our lives will never fade?  That many days, many places and many events throughout history will rouse due honor and respect.  That who you were is who we are because of a man who became a president. 

Valentine's Day

Cards, candy, candles

Dinner, date, dance

Hearts, hand-hold...    home

Home hosted our Valentine's Day.  Home welcomed us from the fray, smiled at our greeting kiss and gladdened our spirits.  Home served tenderness, smooth jazz, and drizzled ice cream.  Home kept our sentiments secret, prompted Valentine recollections, and bound us together as if under a blanket.

Home sheltered us in its deepest love.

Home still hosts my Valentine's Day.  Home welcomes my littlebears from their school parties, smiles at valentines from the mailbox, and gladdens at another piece of melty chocolate.  Home urges hugs, supplies heart-shape crafts, and blesses homemade gifts.  Home records our stories, bounces laughter, and binds us together as if under a blanket.

Home shelters us in its deepest love. 

Home still hosts my Valentine's Day.  

Dream

 

 

2

There have been only 2 dreams. The first left me awhile back.  

And then last night. I was seated at a large table where every other person locked an arm with every other person. 

Except me. Somehow I wasn’t an every other. 

And then last night. An arm slipped in and wrapped itself around me. It felt familiar.  So I turned and looked into… his eyes.  I gazed into them with amazement.  There he was. 

There he was.  

I cried.  I dropped my head on his shoulder, his hand shrouding it as I wept.  No one seemed to notice. The every others vanished, leaving us alone. 

I whispered, “You’ve been away way too long.”  Feeling relieved he was there, I only cried…

Not onto his shoulder but into my sheets. 

Oh. He isn’t here. 

He isn’t here. 

He was here for a moment.  I rolled over, allowing lagging tears to pool, savoring the moment, feeling his familiar.  Clinging to the moment. 

There he was. 

A dream.  A moment.  A gift.  A dream. 

Thankful. 

Advice

My mom, my advisor. 

Advice wants you to want it. Advice trails your skirt, trying to get your attention. It will peek around corners in parent forms, teacher forms, expert forms, experience forms. Sometimes it winks right in your face. Advice avails itself because it wants the best for you. 

Pride wants you to ignore advice. Pride disregards the tug on your skirt.  Pride bypasses advice’s forms, causes you to blink when advice winks.  Pride doesn’t let you ask. Pride prides itself because it already has the best for you.  It thinks. 

And then… a practical tip invades your hearing. A sermon makes sense. A friend speaks smarts. A spouse shares perspective. Advice didn’t ask you, but suddenly you act on unbidden advice. Advice subtly reminds you that you need it.  And wonders why you don’t ask?

You know you’ve grown a bit when you ask advice. When you recognize pride and tell it to step aside. When humility and deference and learning replace pride. When you seek, accept, and follow sound advice — when you want it.

Just want advice. It wants you.

Mara

"Don't call me Naomi.  Call me Mara, for the Almighty has made life very bitter for me.  I went away full, but the Lord has brought me home empty.  ... the Lord has caused me to suffer and the Almighty has sent such a tragedy upon me."  Ruth 1:20

Oh Mara, I'm sorry.  So so sorry.  I understand.  I feel the ache with you. 

My life was potential.  Was dreams and hope and excitement.  Was company and richness and blessing.  Was adventure and new memories and joy.  Was looking-forward-to...

But then God emptied the potential.  Erased the dreams and hope and excitement.  Removed the company. Blurred the looking-forward-to...

Don't call me Kathy.  Call me Mara.

Until you read chapter 4 -- God's provision, new vision, secret mission.  A home, a gleaning field, a kind master, a family redeemer, an ancestor of Kind David, of the Messiah!

Until you experience a couple years -- God's provision, new vision, secret mission.   A beautiful home, a kind, loving family, a beginning community, a puppy and friends. 

Outcomes belong to the Lord.  He is at work.  He is provision, new vision, secret missions. 

Call me Kathy. 

Reals

 

Oh Siri, bless your heart.  You try.  And you have a very nice voice.  But no, I don't mean the dates for last year's event, I mean this year's.  (Duh.)

Oh Maps, why do I have to ask you twice?  I mean, you've taken me around town, sometimes not so directly, but I usually arrive.  I would love it if you would respond before the exit. 

Oh Google, you are faithful and helpful, though you don't speak to me like the others.  I've noticed that you've partnered with uber smart AI.  Good idea.  Please don't start charging me. 

Oh Youtube, you have helped solve dire fixes.  But goodness, the time it can take to find help.  Cameras swirling, accents disconcerting, time turning... a quick question into a... research project. 

ChatGPT, you are becoming a go-to.  Thanks for the encouragement.  You always make me feel smart for asking.  BTW, have you actually tried your suggestions?  I wonder this.  

I used to consult friends, a co-worker, and especially a side-by-side husband.   I used to ask real faces, real brains, real experiences for answers or at least thoughts.  And I still do.  Which leads to enriching conversation from time to time.  But those reals are not so available anymore.  They require a wait.   I miss the reals. 

I'm thankful for digital friends.  Sometimes they save me.   I always talk to my real God.   He's my ultimate savior!  But oh for the real real -- the one who deciphers, banters, opinions, analyzes and answers -- me.  Real me.  I miss this real.  

 

 

 

Winter

From my front window. 

 Winter smells like

roadkill, burn pile, baked bread, wet pavement, wood stoves, pine-scented candles

 

Winter tastes like

chili and cornbread, hot apple cider, cinnamon, chestnuts, oranges

 

Winter sounds like

holiday jingles, wind against windows, creaking and cracking and rustling

 

Winter looks like 

snow peaks, bright stars, knitted beanies, glossy sidewalks, tire tracks, football

 

Winter feels like

roaring fires, flannel sheets, icy fingers, families at tables, puzzles, early bedtimes

 

For this adapting me, winter is

reflection, anticipation, imagination, contemplation, fresh air and belief.  Under layers of blankets. Surrounded by all the senses of winter. 

"In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer." 

— Albert Camus