Conversation snatches

Centering myself in the present moment and feeling gratitude does not come naturally to me.  Too often, my mind is replaying past conversations or planning future obligations.  Pen and paper help me fight my way back to the present.  Purposely listening to conversations in this house with the object of writing them down grounds me in the here and now.

I often find these scraps of conversation I have penned  laying around the kitchen counter, my bedside table, the foyer dresser.

Just today, I found some hoarded words, saved and then forgotten from FOUR years ago.

11 yo Sidney —– “Dad, do you remember that night I got sick and threw up on the floor?  And you wiped the floor with your socked foot?”

6 yo Rachel — “Mama, the potty is eating.  It eats  . . . . . . . “

11 yo Sidney  — “Mom, the icons on your computer have been moved around, but it isn’t my fault.  It is Bill Gates’ fault.”

And upon hearing me brag about how I fit all the garden produce in the freezer, 9 yo Lincoln — “Mom, you are ORGANISM woman.”

 

Four years — a breath, a lifetime.

The 11 yo boy who ratted on his Dad’s cleaning methods and messed with his Mama’s computer icons is today a 15 yo boy who sits at my kitchen table taking apart a nonfunctioning LED light bulb and talking to himself, “MAN, it is nice to have a voltmeter in the house.”

Bad/Good . . . . Bad/Good . . . . .Bad/Good

This was bad week.  I have been self-treating for Lyme and Bartonella.  Old symptoms flared and new ones appeared this week —- headaches, brain fog, fatigue, heart pain, joint pain, swelling in my legs, ankes, and feet.  The swelling affects my right leg, ankle and foot more for some reason.  The flare is “good” if I am killing the bugs, in which case, I will bounce back.  But the concern that my symptoms signify other issues weighs heavily  —–the waiting, and the hoping, and depending exclusively on myself is the hard part.

BUT . . . . .

this was a good week.  The children and I have pondered psalms.  We have drawn silly pictures illustrating vocabulary words.  My sides have ached with laughter watching the kids’ school presentations —– poems set to music, a homemade video of the earth’s destruction by fire and ice and Sidney’s live performance of a rap with Dickinson’s “A Bird Came Down the Walk.”  I have heard piano, cello and violin music in my home.

So there have been great blessings mixed in too, but Lord, I am weary.  In the midst of laughter, there are tears.  In the midst of tears, there is laughter and I am weary.

Then I came home from a shopping trip.  I always come home from shopping ready to hide —- something about Wal-mart does not elicit that peaceful, easy feeling.  Shocking, no?

But then, I came home and I walked into the kitchen to this . . . . . . . . .

And I could not stop the smile.

My eldest son’s math was overtaken by the birds.

My 10 yo daughter has been infatuated with all things flamingo since she was very young.  Originally, she drew stick flamingos on all her schoolwork, but she has progressed.

A closer picture for detail . . . .

I guess a flamingo nativity might be considered rather strange by some.

I find it rather quirky and fun-loving, an imaginative creation of a tender, geniune heart.

So . . . .after weighing the bad and the good . . . . .I think the good won out.

It was a GOOD week.