Pennies in the fountain
The frogs and crickets have taken to the early mornings, their chirps greeting the sunrise through hot, thick air. It’s a sure sign of late summer in these parts, and they are awakening in me the audacity to believe that time actually is going forward.
What a long year it has been, even at two-thirds through. The pandemic has been a global pause button, in many ways a wonderfully refreshing blessing. In others, a frustrating monotony of loneliness and laziness. There may never be a normal again, but there will be a schedule, and it will be an absolute beast to get used to.
The boys go back to school next week. And when I say school, I mean the building. The teaching, the learning, the shaping of their minds, the broadening of their horizons - all this is up in the air. Oh how I hope they learn. Watching them lay around all day every day because it’s too hot to go outside and while I’m working I don’t have time to coax and guide them through chores, I just can’t take much more of it.
Also will offer a sentence or three here about how disgusted I am with America right now. Or at least, the America that is being portrayed. What we are seeing here, in my humble opinion, is the first generation that didn’t get spankings. It’s disgusting.
But anyway, enough negativity. The reason I haven’t blogged more is that there is so much negative.
The positive? I’m reading simultaneously Anxious for Nothing by Max Lucado, The Ragamuffin Gospel by Brennan Manning, and Girl, Wash Your Face by Rachel Hollis. I’m loving them all, highlighting furiously, as God is using each one to poke holes in my this-is-just-how-I-am excuses.
He also seems to be calling me away from working with kids at church and into more music. The thought has brought me so much joy, as music has long been an anxiety-reducer for me. Maybe more piano, maybe singing in the choir, not sure yet. Whatever it turns out to be, I’m so thankful to have heard from Him.
Church has been like water for my thirsty soul. Heavy on my heart is the whole exodus of families and thought of bad habits created by drive-in services. My beloved pastor and father-in-law retires next month after 50 years, and though I know his successor was hand-picked by the Lord, I am concerned about people leaving because of the transition. But sitting up front for the inside services, hearing the ever-increasing voices raised in worship, drinking in the Word, God speaks to me that He is in control and working for the good. Whatever church ends up looking like.
We’ve had some sweet dinners with friends, like shining oases in the desert of pandemic isolation. Talking and laughing and commiserating and worrying together, kids off doing whatever they do, being reminded that we really do need each other in this crazy life. No one understands my dread of having to maybe homeschool the kids like my dear friends who equally dread having to maybe homeschool their kids. We may end up swapping our children, knowing they would listen much better to someone other than their moms.
I truly have enjoyed the cooking, especially when one of the boys has grown bored enough to take an interest. Lots of great new recipes, and some refining of old ones. Learned I’d been cooking pork loin upside-down for seventeen years. Good job, moron. It makes a huge difference. And I can finally churn out a decent baked potato. Of course the side effect of this is that all this cooking and eating at home produces obscene amounts of dirty dishes. It’s unreal.
And the boys just eat all day long. Not healthy stuff, of course. Why would they? It’s going to be rough on those school days when there’s no cabinet full of fruit snacks in their classrooms. Brandon tells me to quit buying it and they’ll quit eating it, but there is an intrinsic mother-nurturer urge in me to feed the hungry. I suppose that extends to my zombie children who aren’t really hungry, just bored.
My camera roll from the last few months consists of accidental screenshots and pessimist jokes about parenting that I’ve wanted to show Brandon. Last night I forced my large, sweaty sons to stand close to each other and smile. I love them so much I can’t hardly stand it. It’s like the Lord reaching down and giving me a hug.
So there are treasures to be found, like pennies in the fountain. Things are a bit dull, but I’ll miss that when it’s gone. Life’s about to ramp up a little, anyway. More on the flip side.
What a long year it has been, even at two-thirds through. The pandemic has been a global pause button, in many ways a wonderfully refreshing blessing. In others, a frustrating monotony of loneliness and laziness. There may never be a normal again, but there will be a schedule, and it will be an absolute beast to get used to.
The boys go back to school next week. And when I say school, I mean the building. The teaching, the learning, the shaping of their minds, the broadening of their horizons - all this is up in the air. Oh how I hope they learn. Watching them lay around all day every day because it’s too hot to go outside and while I’m working I don’t have time to coax and guide them through chores, I just can’t take much more of it.
Also will offer a sentence or three here about how disgusted I am with America right now. Or at least, the America that is being portrayed. What we are seeing here, in my humble opinion, is the first generation that didn’t get spankings. It’s disgusting.
But anyway, enough negativity. The reason I haven’t blogged more is that there is so much negative.
The positive? I’m reading simultaneously Anxious for Nothing by Max Lucado, The Ragamuffin Gospel by Brennan Manning, and Girl, Wash Your Face by Rachel Hollis. I’m loving them all, highlighting furiously, as God is using each one to poke holes in my this-is-just-how-I-am excuses.
He also seems to be calling me away from working with kids at church and into more music. The thought has brought me so much joy, as music has long been an anxiety-reducer for me. Maybe more piano, maybe singing in the choir, not sure yet. Whatever it turns out to be, I’m so thankful to have heard from Him.
Church has been like water for my thirsty soul. Heavy on my heart is the whole exodus of families and thought of bad habits created by drive-in services. My beloved pastor and father-in-law retires next month after 50 years, and though I know his successor was hand-picked by the Lord, I am concerned about people leaving because of the transition. But sitting up front for the inside services, hearing the ever-increasing voices raised in worship, drinking in the Word, God speaks to me that He is in control and working for the good. Whatever church ends up looking like.
We’ve had some sweet dinners with friends, like shining oases in the desert of pandemic isolation. Talking and laughing and commiserating and worrying together, kids off doing whatever they do, being reminded that we really do need each other in this crazy life. No one understands my dread of having to maybe homeschool the kids like my dear friends who equally dread having to maybe homeschool their kids. We may end up swapping our children, knowing they would listen much better to someone other than their moms.
I truly have enjoyed the cooking, especially when one of the boys has grown bored enough to take an interest. Lots of great new recipes, and some refining of old ones. Learned I’d been cooking pork loin upside-down for seventeen years. Good job, moron. It makes a huge difference. And I can finally churn out a decent baked potato. Of course the side effect of this is that all this cooking and eating at home produces obscene amounts of dirty dishes. It’s unreal.
And the boys just eat all day long. Not healthy stuff, of course. Why would they? It’s going to be rough on those school days when there’s no cabinet full of fruit snacks in their classrooms. Brandon tells me to quit buying it and they’ll quit eating it, but there is an intrinsic mother-nurturer urge in me to feed the hungry. I suppose that extends to my zombie children who aren’t really hungry, just bored.
My camera roll from the last few months consists of accidental screenshots and pessimist jokes about parenting that I’ve wanted to show Brandon. Last night I forced my large, sweaty sons to stand close to each other and smile. I love them so much I can’t hardly stand it. It’s like the Lord reaching down and giving me a hug.
So there are treasures to be found, like pennies in the fountain. Things are a bit dull, but I’ll miss that when it’s gone. Life’s about to ramp up a little, anyway. More on the flip side.
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