Last Friday across the ocean, a little blondie was born. Really, it was Saturday here in Spain and I kept myself awake with whodunnits and carrot sticks until the announcement came.
Welcome, Dylan Thomas, to the family that loved you long before you were born. You are fearfully and wonderfully made in the image of God Himself. May this be your starting point as you find out who you are in this great big world.
Photo credits: B.K. and S.K.
Something about the book begs tears. I don’t know what it is exactly; there’s no paragraph or even chapter that particularly resonates. Perhaps it’s the undertone of sorrow mingled with hope in everyday sacred moments.
“God, where are you?” And I set aside the book and turn off the reading light to stare into the shadows of the 9:30 world. “Please meet me here.”
He does. And I have my own mingling of sorrow and hope. Of homesickness and gratitude. Of reluctance and awe.
And, refusing to turn on the light, I stumble in the shadows to make a cup of tea, fumbling for the tea kettle and spilling leaves from the tea ball. Strawberry cream. I found it at the market today. It leaves a thick aftertaste of comfort although it’s new to my palate. I sip it from the robin’s egg mug I found while shopping with a new friend. The mug makes me think of her, this new friend full of intense questions ever since our first encounter. She is working hard to please Allah. “Please meet her too.”
Down below, are voices. Arabic. I peek over the balcony to see two men and one woman leaving the nightclub next door. But no, only the men are leaving, caressing the woman’s hand in parting. “See you on Saturday,” they say. She tugs up her blouse neckline as she returns to that dark doorway that heaves its sweet and sick breath. “Oh God, please meet her there!”
With the light on, now I can see God was in the cooling rain this morning. In the huge, toothless smile from a friend’s husband who pretended to steal my market bag. In the husky greeting from a melancholy neighbor puffing a cigarette on the front stoop. In a phone call from a chatty acquaintance-turning-friend. In the final save of a document that took countless hours and headaches to create.
As I finish my cup of strawberry cream tea in the lamplight, the shadows have faded. But they lurk. There will always be shadows, I think. But even in the glow of the light, there is comfort knowing that He is Lord of the shadows too.
We eagerly waited… and waited for my nephew’s (Baby C’s) grand entrance into our world. Finally he came in his 8 pound 5 ounce splendor, delighting us with his little life. Baby C became Camden Ron.
And Toddlers A and B, Camden’s twin big brothers, are still finding out that their lives will be irrevocably changed… and for the better.
Delicate babies remind me how we begin, so vulnerable and moldable, with our entire futures rolled out in front of us, waiting. That can make us thrill or tremble… or both.
Camden, I pray that as you start your life, you would delight in life, delight in your present, and yes, even the unknown of your future. I love you, little boy!
Photo credits: M.L.H.
It’s just another day here in Spain. It’s strange celebrating holidays that aren’t celebrated in our country of residence. The world around us zips by at its normal pace while we baste a turkey or set off fireworks and grill burgers. Once, I even celebrated Christmas in North Africa. That was the strangest of all.
Thanksgiving is an American holiday, so even though my team lives in Spain, we plan to celebrate. My roommate is basting the turkey as I write. The green beans and sweet potatoes are ready to cook. The pies are done. The table set.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING!
I have an appointment at the other end of town this morning, so I won’t be around for the last minute rush before guests arrive. I’ve been delegated to pick up the rest of the wassail ingredients and new light bulbs on my way home.
But before I leave, I decided to write a few things I’m thankful for this year.
By no means is that an exhaustive list. But I wanted to give you time to write your own list. What are you thankful for?
Well, it’s time again, ready or not. That’s what I’ve been telling myself for the last couple of weeks. I’ve been pulled apart by the highs and lows of leaving until sometimes, I don’t feel anything at all, as if the slug of conflicting emotions deposits a slimy trail of numbness. That sounds depressing, but with two days left, I suspect I’m more on the melancholy side of things. The excitement will return when my feet are planted on Spanish soil. (I say “when” and not “if” to boost my confidence that the trip will go as planned. 🙂 )
I’m excited to return to Spain, to find a new normal that doesn’t feel like an in-between normal. But I want to weep when I think of leaving behind my beloved in-between.
Belonging to two places tastes more like not fully belonging anywhere. That, my friends, tastes bittersweet. Sweet, only because it’s a sturdy reminder that:
All I know is I'm not home yet
This is not where I belong.
Take this world and give me Jesus
This is not where I belong.
(Building 429 from "Where I Belong")
Photo by John McArthur on Unsplash
Two weddings in two weeks. Whew. They were lovely weddings. Both fairly small and fairly simple. One was a dear friend’s wedding; the other, my baby sister’s. One couple puttered away in an old car; the other roared off in a helicopter on what turned out to be an unfortunately windy day.
I helped coordinate the ceremony for one wedding and was a bridesmaid in the other. By the time both were done and we had gorged ourselves on Casey’s pizza that last Saturday night, I was ready for a change of pace.
So I headed west.
But my Wild West trip was not wild. It was hardly the West either, but even to us in Illinois, anything west of the Mississippi is pretty far west. Besides, it’s not often we Illinoisans see “Pavement ends” or “Gravel ends” signs like you see in Nebraska.
I stayed with a dear childhood friend. We lounged, talked, read, took a snack to the church’s school, visited friends, shot a dirt pile (so, I have a ways to go yet before I’ll be hunting Bambi and Thumper), had runzas, and did oodles more things.
One of the “oodles” was a tour of a state park in Fairbury, NE built around wagon “swails” from the Oregon Trail route.
Later that week, the scenery on the way to Kansas was bland and comfortable. After spending the afternoon pricing books at Choice Books, another dear friend and I spent much of the weekend talking and reading in a beautiful, plant-filled apartment.
We also managed to hang some lights, decorate for fall, and do a little downtown shopping… in between our lounging. 🙂
No, indeed, my Wild West trip did not turn out wild at all, but exactly, exactly as I had hoped.
Crisp fall air. Charcoal smoldering in a grill. A porch swing caught in a breeze, beckoning. Drying corn along quiet country roads. Baby giggles. Sun-scented laundry. Family wedding plans. Fresh clothes on happy babies. The steam of a busy iron. Ice cream rivers on shirt fronts. Late night talks. New honey. A church building smelling of Pinesol. Uncontrolled laughter. Spontaneous neighbor visits. Children’s books over and over.
I’m sorry I’ve been so absent. Sometimes it feels like I’m trying to be present in too many places to really be present anywhere at all. Ever feel that way? My blog updates probably will be scatter-brained over the next couple of months, but I’ll try to check in anyway. 🙂 Have a wonderful autumn in the meantime.
That’s all folks. All of the rest of me is as expected and normal. 🙂 I wouldn’t mind hearing some of the lesser known youisms too!
I could rave about my wonderful time in the States. I could post oodles of pictures that prove I have the cutest nieces and nephews in the world. (And I do, by the way. Don’t try to argue.)
It was wonderful: a belated Christmas celebration, lots of food, church and friend fellowship, a helicopter ride, little people love, morning talks at the breakfast table, evening talks snuggled in fat couches, warmth, dryers, carpet, etc.
But the truth is, it’s also good to be back in Spain. It has taken a full week of not-so-good days to be able to say that.
I watched my friend frying donuts by the dying daylight. The banished cat made a puff of white against the patio door with each complaint. We ignored him. The air was heavy with the spitting oil when my friend asked about my trip to America.
“Wonderful” didn’t suffice. Both the warm fuzzies and tears were part of the wonderfulness.
So I told her and she listened.
In that sacred moment, my two worlds married, reminding me that who I am in America is who I am in Spain too.
I have never shared my birthday month with any of my family members… until this year. And I am ecstatic to welcome a little niece and extra-little twin nephews born two days apart (with my birthday sandwiched between them)!
Welcome, darling little Joanna Evelyn. May your life be full of joy, zest for life, and a deep friendship with your big sister. I don’t have to meet you in person to fall in love.
Welcome, Alex Robert. May your world keep getting bigger and bigger as you grow. May you find love to be unconditional and joy to be an abundant gift. I love you already.
And welcome, Bennett Richard. You’re still so tiny, but may you continue growing and learning. May you learn to savor God’s blessings in your little life. I love you.
My Thoughts From Afar | 