... I adore "re"

I love "re" in front of words.  REstore.  REcreate. REpurpose! REmodel!

I love it more now because of my keys which REappeared!


21 days ago,  I lost my keys. Within those 21 days, we took senior photos, I was offered a job, Davis got strep and missed his senior choir concert.  Yeah, it's been "big" around here lately.

But my keys, I really lost them.

I've had that key ring since I was in high school.

I felt sick.  I knew the window of time I lost them.

I was beat tired.  I drove to school to get Davis.  We were on a mission to take his senior portrait. We left the van for my husband and took off in Ramsey, our debt free volvo.  Davis drove, I was sleepy.

 First we went to the stables where he has a job mucking stalls.  My dad designed the beautiful barn.  I used to do decorative painting for the people who built it.  New owners now....   I took a quick nap then got out with foggy brain to throw a tennis ball for the dogs and meet the horses.  Love that.

Then we took off for one of my very favorite roads.  We Crouch's are not farmers.  Ha!, we're not even gardeners... but we adore living in farmland.  Our friends farm this land.  Our dentist is at the end of this road.  It's the kind of place you park and walk down.  Perfect for senior pics. 

Perfect for losing keys.

The day grew warm.  I started shedding layers.  We got a phone call while we were driving to this beautiful road.

It was a day wrecking phone call.

Davis was asked to be the youth leader for the next high school missions trip to Haiti.  After just one phone call, he was no longer the leader.  It was simply a matter of dates.  The new dates will require the students to miss two full weeks of school.  Davis will be away at college and we can't let Laina go either.

We park the car.  OK, try to smile Davis. 

Yeah, right, Mom.

So, we talk.

We talk about packing up a suitcase for college and leaving the comfortable chair from home.  We talk about how things that don't make sense can free us to be "fully there" for the place God is calling us to.

We talk about hurt, and pain, and confusion, and rejection.

We talk about how God is always leading us to the best even if we have to forgo something truly good to get there.

We talk about words spoken and how we hang on to them, but only God's words are unfailing.

We both cry.  Then somehow, we both start trusting.




And we're HERE.  This is our moment to capture a moment.

The sadness is still behind his eyes.  It's where a mother can see it.  But the sky is clearing.

I start asking God to REstore my child's dreams.

Lord, REfocus his vision right now to see what You see for him.

He begins to see it.  He realizes how hard it would be to have his heart divided between Canada and Haiti, much less his time... and his focus.

We talk.  I keep clicking.  Let's pull some more out of your trunk... your guitar.  "What do you want me to do, Mom?"   I aim and click.... "Just play, Bud."

He starts to play and realizes he needs to REtune.  Nothing's wrong with him.  Nothing's wrong with the guitar.  Music is just like that.  Instruments get effected by the circumstances around them.  Hot cars, even beautiful days.

I click.  I watch.  I click.  I pray.  The light begins to shift and catch more color.  I smile.

There's the chord.  The one that's got the sweet spot in it.

And there it is.  My son doing what he was born to do.

I forget everything but "right now".  Wow, click, we get to capture this miracle.  This moment when my son sees the bigger picture of Your Son, even in the middle of huge disappointment. 

And then I see it.  

There it is.  Just there at the corners of his mouth.  There's this micro expression he's had since he was a baby.  It shows up when he figures something out.  It's that moment when traces of determination yield to realizing that he's got it.  It was there when he learned to tie his shoes, when he jumped off a high wall, when he got a text from a good friend.  It shows up.

 

I keep clicking, opening the car door, walking up and down the road.  Leaning over tall grass.  Running ahead to capture the angle.  Keys?  What keys?  I'm all in the moment.  So grateful even through the ache.  I watch my son just be himself even as he yields to my ideas for the next angle.

And I watch him begin to focus on the road ahead.  We took LOTS more shots.  And somewhere on that busy day, I lost my keys.  I adapted, but didn't know what to do.  The missing keys made me feel like a failure and reminded me daily of my hard and beautiful day with Davis.  It's not the keys themselves.  It's what they open that I cherish.  I asked friends to pray.  And then there they were!  In a pocket I could swear I checked at least four or five times!  REstored to me, the joy REjoiced.   And I think of this path I'm on with Christ.  REpentance.  REstored.  REnewed.  New!  RE'd.  

 

...fiction and folds

So why do I love fiction so much? 

To me, not liking fiction is like saying "I don't like chocolate."  WHAT? 

But there are good friends of mine who don't like either fiction or chocolate and they are totally wonderful, normal people.  But hey, I don't like math.  Why?

Because it's too unclear.  That's right.  Unclear!  ...at least for a brain like mine.

I mean seriously, you give a brain like mine a word problem (I remember this one vividly!) like this:

If Mr. Brown walked 3 miles in one hour, how long would it take him to walk 18 miles?

Seriously?  How can I possibly answer that?  I need more information!  Did he take a nap?  Was the road more uphill, thus slowing him down at some point?  Did he stop for lunch? 

18 miles is a LONG walk!  He'd have to stop for at least water? 

I vividly remember where I sat in the classroom and where my mind went with that question.  My imagination was watching Mr. Brown, in his brown tweed suit with his tie loosened, walk down the road.  It was a country dirt road with a gorgeous spring green meadow on the left side.  Mr. Brown was in his 70's but in very fit condition.  He noticed with peaceful delight the perfect shade tree where he could take a mid-day nap. 

He was very well educated, maybe even a college professor.  But his wisdom came from not missing the moment. 

I instantly loved Mr. Brown.

How long did it take him?  WHO CARES?!  (You're laughing at me, but I'm grinning back.)

See, fiction is like a folded napkin.

Yes, a napkin is made for a purpose.  To protect your clothes and wipe your mouth, thus protecting your fellow diners from an unpleasant view.  ;)

... but if you take a boring photo, a boring napkin.  And then realize....

...someone, somewhere, chose to add color to a napkin.  And that one simple change to the utilitarian item inspired me.

I saw something I've never tried before!

Margaret (my artist friend and mother of the mom-to-be) and I found these fun little safari pencils and some just-too-cute little paper flowers that we chose to combine to give as party favors.  So...

Fiction = What if?

And then...

Oh, hey... these are feeling "sweet jungle safari party"...

Wouldn't it be fun to bouquet them somehow?

Sometimes the simplest things...

Get me SO excited!

Fiction...  take an ordinary Mr. Brown.  Add a twist.  A fold.  Some spring green.  

Maybe we were made for more than just getting things done.

The greatest storyteller of all time said, "Consider the lillies..... and don't worry so much." 

Matthew 6:28-29  "And who of you by being worried can add a single hour to his life? 28"And why are you worried about clothing? Observe how the lilies of the field grow; they do not toil nor do they spin, 29yet I say to you that not even Solomon in all his glory clothed himself like one of these.…

I'm just saying, there's nothing wrong with counting the flowers

...  just don't forget to smell them!

love, Lydia


©2014 Lydia D. Crouch

...people on my path

This year has been a season of new people on my path.  New doctors, young mothers in MOPS, new kids in SHOW&TELL Family Projects, staff turnovers at church, another crop of new drivers in town including my own daughter.

Tonight we open another show, "This Ain't Broadway, Betty!" and to be honest I'm so tired, I hope I remember my lines.  But the thing is, it's not about me.  It's about these people in my path.

Between having a senior, a full-time non-profit, a desire to paint, a very active church, a driving daughter and a husband who is constantly moving forward, plus being a mentor mom at MOPS... it's been busy.  And yet I spend hours by myself.  And hours being very tired.

I find myself going so hard, so fast to get things done for people that when they show up on my path I tend to see them as obstacles instead of friends.  The black mark of the perfectionist.

I took a nap today while a show was playing.  One of the main characters died and it was a true tragedy.  I woke up thinking,  if I were to die and be resuscitated, I actually know what I would say.  It would be this,

"I want to live.  But I want to live differently.  I want to enjoy small things, recognize the people who turn up on my path as destinations rather than obstacles.  I want to welcome help, even if I'm embarrassed that I need it.  I want to laugh more.  Breathe more. And listen.  Listen better."

Then I read this quote from the school my son will be attending next year.

Valedictorian, Jason Thomassen (BA Biblical Studies; Dip Youth Work), addressed the class of 2014 with an encouragement to lead and teach with love. "Like [the Apostle] Paul, grads, I pray that we never forget this simple message of loving others, in the midst of theology, education and knowledge, we are faced with the temptation to teach the world all that we know, but let us not forget to love the world, for in love, as Jesus reminds us, the law is fulfilled, 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment."

There it is.  That's what I want.  I do not want to be stale.  I want to ask hard questions and not require the answer to be given in my narrow format requirements.

I want to be grateful for the patience of God with me while I sort out hard issues that frustrate me.  I want to see Him in a whole new way.

There are things I don't want to give up.  Excess sugar for one.  I find myself being mad at God for the consequences of my poor choices.  hmmmm.... rather childish of me, I think.

And there ... right there....is the point where we all have to turn inward or outward.  When I look at the world as if it's all about me then it becomes a confining, irritating, shriveled up lonely place.  Even looking out the window is not enough.  Still too safe.  I won't be able to feel the wind unless I step outside.

Loving God, and loving others is a bit like stepping outside.  

There are people in my path and I plan to stop and appreciate them today.

Love, Lydia

©2014 Lydia D. Crouch