Sunday, June 30, 2013

light through a prism

It was my hope that sometime during our recent family vacation at the beach we would receive information from the Navy that would tell us when exactly we would move.  Instead, while standing in the hot sun in the ticket line at Sea World, we got a phone call letting us know the orders are coming, yes they are, they are just delayed.  We do know a few general things about our move: we are moving to Annapolis; we will move in July; and we have a long drive ahead of us.  We can’t schedule movers without the information we are waiting for.  So we wait.  And we are hourly aware of how much we are not in control.

We returned from a glorious, warm, sunshiney week at the beach to a broiling heat wave.  It was 93 degrees as we drove to church this morning.  I miss the beach.

The prism of knowing we are going to move throws colorful lights and winking shadows on the walls of my daily life.  Driving around town, memories from the past thirteen years flash through my mind, the light of joy, the shadow of sorrow.  At church, I linger longer than usual, noticing the shine and flash of the faces of my friends at church, wanting to remember his contagious laugh, her kind eyes, the way she always asks the right questions, his genuine smile. 

I’ve been wondering why this long wait, why this strange place of knowing something is going to happen, but not knowing when.  Today at church a friend and I comforted one another with the knowledge that, though we often aren’t told the reason, we can be confidant there is a reason.  

And so in this time of waiting we have found amazing renters for our home here; we have located what looks to be the ideal house for us in Annapolis, with a wonderful owner who has been more than kind to us already.  Good, loving homes have been found for three pets we have to leave behind, and we have had time to crate train our big dog that is accompanying us on our move.  We are hosting sleepovers, sending our oldest to youth camp, fixing sprinklers and going through closets.

There is no wasted time.  Everyday is a gift, shot through with His light.  Even these dog days of summer when the not knowing feels a weighty load to bear.      

Friday, June 21, 2013

Five Minute Fridays: Rhythm

Grateful this morning for time to sit and write, and for the opportunity to link up with Lisa-Jo and the rockin' community of writers that gather at her place every Friday.  The rules are simple: write for 5 minutes flat - no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking; link back here and invite others to join in; and then absolutely, no ifs ands or buts about it, you need to visit the person who linked up before you and encourage them in their comments. 

So here we go, five minutes on the prompt Rhythm:

My life’s music sounds discordant these days, like two different songs being played at the same time.  I hear the familiar musical melody of family life in summer, the hours and days tapping out the steady notes of swimming and BBQ’s, croquet after dinner in the evening light, later bedtimes for everyone.  As I dance to the familiar summer-days music, I am also hearing and responding to a completely different sound, the throbbing bass line of anxiety made up of all the unknowns about our up-coming cross country move.  The deep, driving notes pound relentlessly, the thrumming push of urgent tasks, endless phone calls, decisions to be made, closets to be cleaned out, and over all the constant wail of not knowing.

Daily the discord builds, the longing for the blessed relief when the chords of unknowing will resolve, finally, into knowing.

I am waiting, dancing through these days, keeping my eyes on the One conducting this orchestra, the Maestro whose original music is playing, who knows where all these crazy notes lead.