a day in the life...
saturday morning
At breakfast I ask Ben if he would like a baby brother or sister. "Yes!" he says. "Then you would be the middle child," I tell him. His big blue eyes still dazed with sleep, he stares at me and asks in monotone, "What does the middle child do?"
"Anything the middle child wants to," I reply.
He thinks about this. "I want to be the first child," is the next utterance from his lips between bites of Cheetah Chomps.
From the other room comes Syd's voice. "Are you asking for my birthright?" I see a plan hatching where some allowance is going to trade hands. "Maybe Syd should be the baby," I say. They think this is hilarious, mainly because any mention of babies is hilarious to them. A phase we're waiting out.
Shortly thereafter I'm in my car, singing loudly and offkey (so I'm told) to Tim Hughes "Happy Day". I love his new album. In the gym now, I see a personal trainer who looks a lot like one of our old pastors. I am concerned this is the case, but decide it can't be him; his nose is too small. Crisis averted. I'm still listening to Tim Hughes.
"God in my laughing/There in my weeping/God in my hurting/God in my healing"
Meanwhile, Steve has escaped narrow death mowing our backyard; a nasty mark across his jugular where a tree branch attacked him.
around noon
Syd is going to Hannah's birthday party; a best friend since Kindergarten who he has not seen in over a year. He is. Just. Beside. Himself. I love Hannah; visiting Syd's class at lunchtime in the school cafeteria, I would tell her she was beautiful and my favorite. She would stare back at me silently, eating her sandwich. A tomboy with gray green eyes and messy brown hair.
We arrive at Hannah's house and the birthday girl opens the door, now taller than Syd. Syd and Hannah's eyes meet for the first time in over a year. There is a brood of Pirateer girls behind Hannah. "Come on, I'll get you an eyepatch," she says and they disappear.
afternoon
It's still a Happy Day in my car as I arrive at Central Market. I have a new way of grocery shopping: I just throw into the cart the things I first see. Actually, that's not true. But I do always buy the produce "hot buy" that is displayed front and center, whether I like it or not. I figure they know better than I do what is a hot buy. Today it is tomatoes still on the vine. Tonight Steve and I will eat them with crabcakes, remoulade and sourdough bread. Thank you seafood lady.
I happen upon an aged steak mispriced for 20 cents. Score. I check out a while later, looking for N. in the check-out lines. He is not there and I wonder if he made it to Europe. The check-out girl is silent and I'm missing N.'s tall tales of his taxidermist girlfriend. I won't stop praying for him.
"You are the highest. You are the greatest. You are the Lord of all. Angels will worship, nations will bow down to the Lord of all." Tim Hughes sings out in my car and I sing along over Austin. Your Kingdom please come to this city God.
There is no one home in the house. Another score. My chance to write in silence and be with Jesus on our deck. My antique rose bush is in bloom and no one wants to buy our house yet. My elm tree went to seed before turning out leaves, I think it knows we are leaving. I don't want to be here when it has to be cut down.
"The world is not enough for me. You can take the world but I'd still have You." Tim Hughes
At breakfast I ask Ben if he would like a baby brother or sister. "Yes!" he says. "Then you would be the middle child," I tell him. His big blue eyes still dazed with sleep, he stares at me and asks in monotone, "What does the middle child do?"
"Anything the middle child wants to," I reply.
He thinks about this. "I want to be the first child," is the next utterance from his lips between bites of Cheetah Chomps.
From the other room comes Syd's voice. "Are you asking for my birthright?" I see a plan hatching where some allowance is going to trade hands. "Maybe Syd should be the baby," I say. They think this is hilarious, mainly because any mention of babies is hilarious to them. A phase we're waiting out.
Shortly thereafter I'm in my car, singing loudly and offkey (so I'm told) to Tim Hughes "Happy Day". I love his new album. In the gym now, I see a personal trainer who looks a lot like one of our old pastors. I am concerned this is the case, but decide it can't be him; his nose is too small. Crisis averted. I'm still listening to Tim Hughes.
"God in my laughing/There in my weeping/God in my hurting/God in my healing"
Meanwhile, Steve has escaped narrow death mowing our backyard; a nasty mark across his jugular where a tree branch attacked him.
around noon
Syd is going to Hannah's birthday party; a best friend since Kindergarten who he has not seen in over a year. He is. Just. Beside. Himself. I love Hannah; visiting Syd's class at lunchtime in the school cafeteria, I would tell her she was beautiful and my favorite. She would stare back at me silently, eating her sandwich. A tomboy with gray green eyes and messy brown hair.
We arrive at Hannah's house and the birthday girl opens the door, now taller than Syd. Syd and Hannah's eyes meet for the first time in over a year. There is a brood of Pirateer girls behind Hannah. "Come on, I'll get you an eyepatch," she says and they disappear.
afternoon
It's still a Happy Day in my car as I arrive at Central Market. I have a new way of grocery shopping: I just throw into the cart the things I first see. Actually, that's not true. But I do always buy the produce "hot buy" that is displayed front and center, whether I like it or not. I figure they know better than I do what is a hot buy. Today it is tomatoes still on the vine. Tonight Steve and I will eat them with crabcakes, remoulade and sourdough bread. Thank you seafood lady.
I happen upon an aged steak mispriced for 20 cents. Score. I check out a while later, looking for N. in the check-out lines. He is not there and I wonder if he made it to Europe. The check-out girl is silent and I'm missing N.'s tall tales of his taxidermist girlfriend. I won't stop praying for him.
"You are the highest. You are the greatest. You are the Lord of all. Angels will worship, nations will bow down to the Lord of all." Tim Hughes sings out in my car and I sing along over Austin. Your Kingdom please come to this city God.
There is no one home in the house. Another score. My chance to write in silence and be with Jesus on our deck. My antique rose bush is in bloom and no one wants to buy our house yet. My elm tree went to seed before turning out leaves, I think it knows we are leaving. I don't want to be here when it has to be cut down.
"The world is not enough for me. You can take the world but I'd still have You." Tim Hughes
Return to the stronghold,
You prisoners of hope.
Even today I will declare
That I will restore double to you.
Zechariah 9:12 (nkjv)