Wonder in the Weeds

Wonder in the Weeds

or

God in My Pocket

I wake expectant.  Every morning it’s the same:  I’m looking for God to show up in my life in a big way.  My feet pound the sidewalks of my life while my eyes scan the horizon for signs of a chariot, winging its way to me.  By days’ end, weary from the deadening to-do list, the “Oh well” is tempting.  Somehow I cannot allow myself to end this day of expectant hopefulness with, Oh well.

So I get down on my hands & knees and comb through the weeds of my life searching for Him.  With my composition journal and pen in hand, I scour the underbrush of the preceeding hours.

And I realize…He was here.

In my youngest’s umpteenth question:  “Will you play with me?”

In my husband joining me, unbidden, in clearing the after-dinner carnage.

In my teens asking, “Will you take me here…and there?”

I had been looking for Him in the booming voice of thunder.  On mountaintops, in cascading waterfalls, in paint on canvas, in surprise windfalls of provision, in long-awaited answers, in successful opportunities.

I wasn’t looking for Him in the questions…Will you take me here and there?

Of course, God is not a THING to be taken along, slung over one’s back, inadvertently, just in case I need something.

But do I really have this sense that I DO take Him everywhere with me, and by His sheer presence there, His Midas Touch, all turns to gold?  Do I have this view of my life?  Do I LOOK for the gold in everything?

The thought that I carry God in my pocket is an intriguing, bordering on scandalous, thought.  By speaking in this manner I do not in any way minimize His grandeur or might.  I do not, in any way, shape, or form, hold forth that He is so tiny I can merely pop Him in my pocket and pull Him out whenever I need Him.

No.

There is lint in just about every one of my pockets.  Lint.  Dust of life’s wearing.  And by “God in my pocket”, I mean:

He is there.

He is in the lint of my life.  He is in the weeds.  His grandeur, majesty, holiness, and wisdom is pulsing in the lint and weeds of my life.  I may not see it readily, or in the moments.  If I have to sit down at days’ end to comb through it all to see how He showed up, then so be it.

On my hands and knees, searching for wonders in the weeds, like a child, is not a bad place to be.

So be it.

A Window While I Wait

A Window While I Wait

I’ve come to the conclusion that for some inexplicable reason, the general feel and call of my life is TO WAIT.

I wait in lines at stores.

I wait at soccer and piano practices.

I wait til I can have time to create.

I wait for a publisher to nod yes or no.

I wait for the years when I won’t have to cook for so many people.

I wait for my teenager to come home at night.

I wait for Christmas break.

I wait for school to be out for summer.

I wait for school to start again in the fall.

I wait while others really live.

I wait while others succeed.

I wait for loved ones to get better.

I wait for something to happen.  Anything. But preferably something exciting.

I wait for a day when I might have more money, more freedom, more security.

And Today, I wait while my daughter who has Type 1 Diabetes undergoes AG testing for 3 hours.  I will do it again tomorrow. My husband and I did this routine just 3 weeks ago for EOG testing…waiting outside the door, ready for what might NOT happen and what we hope won’t happen…her blood sugars plummeting to an unsafe level.  I’m here, waiting, armed with journal, sketchbook, knitting, and of course, Maddie’s diabetes bag of supplies.

For the EOG’s, we sat in a chair outside her classroom in the hallway, acting as hall monitors to help with students needing a bathroom break during testing and to be available for Maddie.  One of the three mornings, she DID go low.  We were so glad one of us was there.

But here, at an elementary school 30 minutes away, with teachers and staff who’ve NEVER met Maddie nor who likely have any training in how to care for a juvenile diabetic, the need to WAIT is even more imperative;  for Maddie’s health and ability to test well, for the teacher’s sake, and for my peace of mind.

But for some other inexplicable reason, they don’t want me sitting in the hallway outside her classroom.  They say, “it’s for testing security purposes.”  Good grief.  So they’ve stuck me in a staff lounge around the corner.  Will my daughter know I’m here?  Will the teacher know I haven’t left?  Waiting can be so painful.

A lot of pondering goes on while I wait.  Am I being cheated out of time to create?  Am I going to live my entire life in a WAITING ROOM while others get to really live?  Will I forever be in a holding pattern?

Everything in me wants to redeem these thoughts…to NOT let them be the last words, the final say on my life.  I write, I draw, I create to WREST out of the waiting, the mundane, the everyday, the BEAUTY that is contained therein.  To WRING out of these seemingly fruitless times, the sweet juice of living.

And I realize, as I write this in my .99 cent composition journal, that light is falling on my book.  I’m sitting, in this bland and bleak teacher’s lounge, RIGHT UNDER A WINDOW.

Hazy blue sky with sun’s light is streaming through the blinds.  I have an urge to raise those blinds.  To hinder NO LONGER the full entrance of light on me.  I cannot wipe away the haze nor open these windows…this moment cannot render full sun on me.  But I can be grateful for the light, the warmth, even the fact that the full sun’s rays ARE filtered, hindered a bit from blazing too much into my life.  Can I be grateful for all the waiting? Can I see beauty in light filtered, hindered from shining full ON?

If I had been “allowed” to sit by my daughter’s classroom in the hallway, I would not have seen this LIGHT.  Literally and figuratively.  I would not have had my eyes opened to the fact that NO MATTER WHERE I’m waiting, there’s ALWAYS a window.  That window is my own eyes.  Too many times I choose to clamp them shut, sick of the waiting, refusing to look for the window in my world, refusing to throw open the shutters and raise the sash.  I shall not close my eyes today!  In the hours that stretch out before me, waiting while Maddie takes tests, I will raise those blinds, and draw.

Draw the view…draw the rooftops…the distant trees.  Draw what the window of my eyes see.  For in that way…

I WREST the beauty out of the mundane.

I WRING from every corner the liquid love of being.

I CELEBRATE where I am, fully inhabiting the WAIT, transforming it into REAL LIVING.

-jpe  6/20/2011

Morning Thoughts…

Addendum:  In times when I’m unable to come into the light, the Light finds me.

A Sewing Machine

Please bear with me while I brag a little bit more.  I think when you become a mom, you are automatically given Bragging Rights.  Well, my oldest daughter has quite literally been A SEWING MACHINE.  For two days she has wrestled fabric and an old sewing machine into submission.  I watched in awe as she went from an idea in her head through to the final piece.

Her idea? To repurpose a large pair of jeans bought at Goodwill for $3.50 and make them into a duffle bag!  It turned out super!  She cut off the legs and folded the bottom with some amazing geometry.  She also used part of a leg to craft a rectangular top.  She even set in two zippers around the top to meet in the middle!!  I was amazed!  I could not have set in that zipper more beautifully…especially considering the thicknesses she was working with: jeans, industrial zipper, and belt loops! To top it off, she recycled round metal rings from an old purse she had to create the straps.  For this she removed the belt loops to sew them down in just the right spot and to attach the rings.

Here’s a pic of what we are affectionately calling the Big Buffle…extracted from the Big Butt & Duffle.

A Summer Tote

I’ve been carrying around this tote I bought a couple of summer’s ago from Harris Teeter.  It’s the straw kind, with a fabric lining…great for toting my knitting & crochet projects wherever I go.  It’s  a perfect size and gives ample room for my sketchbook and pens too!  I thought the cross-hatch approach would be super for the strawy texture.

Of course, I have FAR too many bags to tote yarns and such around in…and that’s not including the pocketbooks! Oi! Remember this post?  And then there’s the crocheted bag I love to make and use for my summer pocketbooks.

How ’bout you? Do you have a favorite tote for your drawing supplies? yarns? everyday essentials?  Do tell!