children

October 2011

David's been wearing a terrific pair of round sunglasses with his 1840's cap.  His moppy blonde hair peeking out from every rim and corner, and his precocious smile sneaking out underneath.  He's quite pleased with his new old sense of fashion.  He's a different child than my others, somehow terribly alive in being adored by the older three.

Corinne is babysitting and I'm sure so well.  She may be running a more perfect home than the dear mother who left her in charge.  That certainly happens when I leave her.  Jessica is outside swinging and playing her guitar with two adorable friends who I would invite to stay forever if their own mother's wouldn't miss them so.Douglas is on an adventure.  He's out with a new old friend to visit an old new friend. Rich is tracking all of their activity and will eventually wrangle them in for prayers and sleeping.  It won't be an easy feat.

I have absolutely nothing to offer but the ramblings of my own days and my own sorting.  I have no new way of learning or loving or living to give up to the world.  Its all been written, painted and sung, and by artists endlessly more talented than I.  But I'm new.  I haven't been here before, so the old ways feel new on me.  More clarity comes into focus as I see fewer days ahead than in the wake, and I'm most certainly afraid of what I may not write, paint or sing.  But the stillness comes as I learn what I'm meant to do and do more of it.  There's no end in sight.