Footpaths

When I was young, really young, during that age where all of life is a mystery and absorbed through the senses in a much deeper way than now after much desensitization, I was a voyager. I remember actually thinking how I wanted to unravel the wonders of this planet and its origins. I wanted to meet the designer and discuss the whys. My vocabulary was a tad bit limited at the time but the thought process and motivation was very much present.

The vocabulary has expanded slightly, the senses have lost some of their strength and I can say that going to port would be more my speed now than a hard rode voyage. I still do want to meet the designer, although in some respects I have, and I still have the “whys” stumbling around in my head. Someday I know I’ll have those answers.

Lately I find myself flipping through memories. Much of it is triggered with sensory stimuli. I was having lunch at work the other day when the smell of the hot asphalt brought me back umpteen years. That was such a regular summer smell where I grew up. Most of our roads had been of the gravel variety, hard on tires and windshields not to mention feet. But for a few summers the town was laying down road with a fever pitch. I had the misfortune of stepping on one of those roads too soon after having been laid down because of my insatiable curiosity. I was a female Huck Finn of sorts and there was no way you could get me to put shoes on my feet if it were optional for the day. Well for a few days afterwards shoes were NOT an option. Blisters saw to that.

There was another smell that always lingered and mingled with the asphalt. I think they called it creosote. I could be wrong. Probably am. But it was the smell that radiated off the hot railroad ties. We had a stretch of railroad that went nearly through the center of town. We had long been a lumbering region and the railroad was crucial. I used to walk a good stretch of that track at least three times a week. I even conquered the trestle. Nearly got hit by a train once too for my efforts.

There was literally tons of granite underneath that trestle. I would climb down the slope to go find me a few choice pieces to bring home as trophies. After I filled my pockets with those I would follow the river for awhile that would eventually spill me out near the dam. You had to be careful walking this stretch because some pockets of underground, bubbling springs were to be found. You’d sink in a good way if you weren’t careful. I used to challenge myself as to how long I could keep my feet in this icy water before the ache got to be too much.

Once I found the dam then it was a tarzan climb up the steep slope of a hill that I called “My Little Mountain”. This hill would be covered in daisies through the summer. I’d run through it and the grasshoppers would be so thick it looked like I was splashing with each step. Once I got near enough to the top I would lay back into these daisies facing the river below me. To a child’s eye and imagination that was a river of diamonds glistening up at me. On my mountain I felt rich. I would continue to lay there for a large chunk of time just listening to the mountain, daydreaming in the clouds and feeling complete.

When the sun got to a certain level even I knew it was time to venture back home. I would pick a huge bouquet of flowers and then take the more direct route home to save time. It never was as satisfying as going the narrow path with all the obstacles and experiences that got me there in the first place. I guess life is like that in a way. Take the path everyone else takes and you may miss the wonders that await you had you gone another way. Not to mention missing out on finding out just what you are capable of when faced with challenges. Well worn paths don’t stir up the imagination and give you fertile ground to dream with. I hope with age I haven’t lost that voyager spirit.

I see that spirit alive and well in my children. When I get to fretting about them I need to remember my own narrow path and all the blessings that were realized because of it. I pray their senses come alive with the kind of vibrancy I so vividly remember in my mind but so inadequately can express on paper.

God is good……all the time.

Life is here and now

Okay, I have not posted to this blog in well over 2 months. I told myself when I started it that I would be more disciplined in writing to it but then I never thought life could get so busy all at once either. I guess I had my head in the sand on that piece of reality eh?

So, has life slowed down? Not a bit. I took yesterday to regroup a bit after having come off of a task of planning a party for a special someone. Except for my questionable MC~ing abilities…. (How is it I, the notorious talker, can get so tongue tied?)…for the most part I think the party went well. It certainly was well attended. As mentioned….it was a special someone which accounts for the numbers.

Yesterday I attempted to get some household responsibilities caught up. Well that elephant is going to have to be eaten one bite at a time. I still have so much else going on that I have to slip in the lower priorities where I can. Today a top priority has been consuming my time. That is getting the portfolios together for the girl’s evaluations. I was having a troublesome spot with getting the homeschool software to spit out what I wanted in resource reports…but I finally conquered that beast. I am NOT techie smart. There is still much to do but I’m fairly confident I should have everything compiled by Friday.

The last couple of weeks had proven difficult as far as focus. Upon hearing about Erin’s deployment to Iraq my mind tends to drift. There is a broad range of emotions and thoughts that occur when one gets that kind of news. You’re alone with your feelings as a parent but yet in the company of so many others in the same position. It is amazing how quickly that network grows when you share the news. That one commonality brings people together in a supportive bond. It has been a blessing.

Turning to and trusting God in this matter has been the biggest comfort. It is too easy to have tunnel vision and dwell only in the circumstances. I refuse to be a person that lives from one circumstance to another in a bad attitude sort of way. Storms come up in life. We need to learn to dig our roots in deep instead of shallowly so we are not toppled over from the next wind that comes along. And, if we looked back, not in a regretful way but in a lesson learned sort of way, we can see that all those “circumstances” that came along in life had meaning…. eventually. Something always came out of them. Always. Maybe things didn’t always go as I would have desired but when I am in a circumstance I don’t see the whole picture….only God does. And He always turns everything into something good. Maybe not in our timing, but our timing and vision is not what matters. Our trust and obedience to His will is what matters.

I’m very proud of Erin and her approach to this life event. She has not shrunk away even once. Her “mission statement” has always been “I want to make a difference”. She strongly believes in battling terrorism. She hurts at the memory of her little sister being terrified when seeing an airplane in the sky for the first time again after 9-11 thinking we were about to be bombed. She sees her part in battling terrorism to be one who cares for and helps heal those at the front lines of that battle. Her vision is much broader than mine had been. She is responsible for opening my eyes to the bigger picture. Her mission statement isn’t a onetime deal. She makes a difference every single day. She just is too humble to see that which is what makes her even more remarkable. How amazing is the depth of her faith and obedience to His will and purpose for her. She is a vessel that God can and does use.

Well, enough of my wanderings through my head and heart. Time to get back to task. People are counting on me.