We roll from one thing to another around here, just when I think I can’t take anymore… There is a reprieve, a comic intermission in the dramatic play that we are living. Thank you God! A breath of humor is just so like you!! So , we are here, laughing our wY through hump day and hopefully the rest of this week.

Some days feel like sunshine, and some days feel like thunderstorms. The sunshine days are filled with warmth, and sweet fragrances. Smiles that hold loving words inside. The stormy days are cooler, darker and threatening. The clap of thunder comes out of nowhere, no real warning. I should have known, the clouds looked so sinister, but I chose to be ignorantly bliss until they opened up and dropped buckets of water on my head , drowning everything in sight .
It’s a balance most of the time, some sunny, some storms. Today , it felt unfairly biased on the stormy side. Rumbling, far off… Until it wasn’t . Storms that do damage , leave destruction in my heart, and in my house. Hoping for sun tomorrow.

I’m trying to stay present. Not an easy thing for me to do on such a busy week. I’ve over committed myself, and that tends to send me into a tailspin. I sit and worry about the things on my calendar, thinking of ways to cancel them. This week is just like that. I’m excited about every thing that I’ve said yes to, however , if I think about more than one at a time, my heart rate gets squirrelly . Today we finished our first novel, just two weeks into school! So tomorrow, we will go see the movie! Isaiah and I are both excited, this is one of the benefits to educating him at home. I have ample opportunity to be close with him, talk to him… study him. And so even though our church is moving this weekend, and Sidney is moving this weekend, the first Clemson game is this weekend, and best of all ….Layla turns one this weekend. I will try to be present in the here and now, and enjoy each thing as it comes. To those of you who are praying for Isaiah and I as we walk out each day, thank you .

I sang a few words of a song last night. The kitchen got quiet, I noticed my husband looking at me in a funny way. I had the sudden realization that since my kids have gotten too big for a sing song bedtime, I rarely sing anymore. The funny thing is, it’s nothing to do with my kids, and everything to do with me. Eight years ago I knew God was calling me to write songs. I knew it. I just didn’t know how to turn my poetry into melodies. I gave up writing songs, and with that …my singing. Even around the house, even in the shower. I suddenly believed that everyone was a critic, and waiting to hear how bad I was. Ridiculous, considering my main audience was God, and my kids.But The Lord has been speaking to me about it. He wants to open my song back up. He loves the spontaneous dish washing , voice straining, heart breaking and mending worship that is missing from my life. Words get into your brain, but music makes it’s way straight into your heart. I don’t know why I have been living without it, but I don’t want to. How about you? What does your worship look like? And have you ever laid it down for a time?

Early. I always forget that I like to be up early. I forget it …. every day. I love the quietness that lives here in the early times. The sweetness in seeing the two older ones off to school, the loveliness in already being awake and centered when little lion boy comes down the stairs with his sleepy eyes, and bed head. Oh, I hope I don’t forget again how much this slow early time means to me. My coffee, not rushed, but savored. Maybe , this time I’ll remember.

I’ve gotten up, made my bed, made my coffee, even made my face. My body has clothes on. It’s all a facade. Inside my body, I am crumbling. Another school year has started, and I am still failing. Failing to understand how to help Isaiah. Even now, as I type this, I hear him pounding on the keyboard , demanding my attention from the other room. He wants me to watch him carve into the table with his pencil, and rip his paper in frustration. He NEEDS me to see that. Maybe he doesn’t think I get it, but I do. It’s all I can do to keep from pulling my own hair in anger right now. Tears are not far away today. I’m trying this year to give less verbal instruction, that’s what he says he needs. But we are only a week in and that’s not working. I hate that I’m struggling, that he is struggling. No one knows what goes on behind closed doors, behind the facade. And so …. Sometimes I have to get it out , out of here …. into the elsewhere that exists outside our four walls.