Wednesday, July 10, 2013

Humbly Grateful - Part Three

I had to read a book in AP English, many, actually.
But this one I read while doing a mini exchange program in Germany.
I hated it, except, I sort of loved it.
It was a book written in stream of consciousness.
And, while it was difficult to follow, especially while my mind was overtaken with the sights, sounds, and exquisite tastes of Western Europe, it is exactly how my brain operates most of the time.
I have written two Humbly Grateful posts. They are much more coherent and I invite you read those here and here. This one, I will write just letting my mind wander. Which, ashamedly is how many of my prayers go. Bear with me. Or if it's too unbearable, you have my permission to lose yourself in one of my other spectacular posts.
I kid! Sort of.
Harley is sleeping soundly at my feet. Providing the socks my barefeet have forsaken on this summer day. For this, I am most grateful, since last night he decided to take a jaunt around the neighborhood and couldn't be found for hours. I was terrified I would never see my sweet pup again. Also terrifying, tomorrow night, I will leave my Baker Boy (and husband, too) for a much needed girls getaway. Will he remember me? Will he miss me? Will I survive? While terrifying, I am thankful for a reprieve. To go to the bathroom by myself will be a welcome change. For fellowship, fun, and friends. Fellowship is good. Fun is good. Friends are good. My mom used to sing a song, "Make new friends, but keep the old ones. One is silver and the other gold." I don't know about silver and gold, I personally like both. But I am thankful for friends new and old. Ones that have stuck by my side, and others who are just joining the ride. It makes me think of the game Red Rover. There are some who have broken through hands intertwined, but others....others we cling tightly to forcing them to join our team. Stand by our side. Hold our hands. Sing the songs of life right alongside us. Singing, I more make a righteous racket than a joyful noise. But I love to sing. And I love to lose myself singing. And I am thankful for singing and songs. Nursery rhymes with Baker to see him smile and hear him laugh and, if I'm lucky, join right in. Worship songs. What a privilege to be able to sing these any day of the week, and not just on Sunday. Duets. For Brian and I to pretend we are Tim and Faith and belt it out making a complete fool of ourselves and falling even more in love by doing so. I am thankful for love. For the love of my husband. The love of my baby boy. Friends. Famiy. Jesus. Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus. Jesus, Jesus, most precious Jesus. The baby is waking. I hear him over the monitor as I stretch my legs slightly longer to reach the end of the chaise to try jostle Harley from his sleep. Back asleep. The baby, not the dog. He is already off chasing a squirrel. Nope. Distracted. Has to leave his mark on the newly budding bush. I'm free to let my thoughts wander for a few minutes longer as Baker wakes slowly from his slumber. Lots to do today. Nothing to do today. The glorious life of a teacher. I can accomplish my lengthy to do list, or I can rewrite it completely. I'm thinking the second. We'll trade grocery store runs and laundry and packing for time on the patio. Sprawled out, taking a cue from Harley who is warming in the summer sun. Sun, sleepy sun. Summer breeze. The sweet smell of gardenias. The hum of Baker snoring. The scorching rough concrete surface, a nice contrast to the cool grass. My feet dance across both. And my eyes threaten to shut.
I come back to this, several hours later, after a short snooze, lunch, and playtime with Baker. My thoughts are much more streamlined, and I threaten to delete each word.
How awful.
Certainly not a piece I am proud of.
But, as I reread it again and again, these are my thoughts.
My humbly grateful attitude today.
So, instead of deleting to start again, I am perfectly content with my obviously imperfect piece.

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