A Life of Distraction

We had three of the grandchildren here for the weekend -- seven-year old Annabelle and three-year-old twins Addison and Bennett. Annabelle is the quintessential, curious firstborn, where all the rules are black and white, and everything's a party. Her Mama says that A often bemoans the fact that they are eating "alone" -- just because it's only the five of them. She never stops talking and is eager for the next social encounter, whatever kind that might be. Addison is an adorable ginger-haired sassy gal, hamming it up at every turn. She might just be smarter than us. Bennett regales in his boy-ness, enjoying nothing better than aggravating his sisters with his latest weapon from his arsenal. But then he is the snuggliest of sugar bears. We had a ball with them.

When it came to Sunday night and they went home to their parents, Ken turned to me and said, "How did we ever do all that?!" It might have had something to do with being 25 years younger and the fact that they don't come in litters. You start out with one at a time (usually) and work up from there. It's been a long time since we've had three at once. But I was definitely stunned by the amount of food, drink and diapers that it takes to keep the world turning. And with twins, they do all those things, all at the same time. Including getting into trouble. 

My takeaway from the weekend, besides the fact that having grandchildren is the most wonderful thing ever, is that I simply have to get my house under control. Everywhere you look, there's boxes of junk, piles of things I have no idea what to do with, projects half-finished and reams of random papers growing on every horizontal surface. The problem with a creative brain is that it likes to hop around. Ken says I'm a tent dweller and it's true. More than a day or two on an activity and I'm ready for the next wind to come along. I'm a great starter and he's a great finisher. But he doesn't want to mess with my particular projects, so he becomes the cattle prod to my wayward ways. It's a miracle we haven't killed each other. 

So where to begin? Everywhere I look are meaningful piles and undiscovered adventures, all waiting to be plumbed. My brain is a bit fuzzy and in the middle of it all, I still have to work at my day job. Who's got time to divert that much?! I've spent enough money on organization books to choke a horse, and nobody wants to call the maid (she's an amazing figment of my imagination). I've had numerous offers from folks to help me, but I might be too proud to take them up on it. 

We're going camping in a couple of weeks, but I need to paint all the doors I've taken off and find some baskets to put all our supplies in. Then somebody needs to call the cavalry in and have them reupholster all those dining room chairs I took apart last week. There's nowhere to eat around here except the recliners. And you know what happens when you plop down in one of those. The glowing light calls your name as you eat your supper. The joints settle in and then you'll find Pa and I sawing logs through yet another episode of Silent Witness. Marie Kondo, I'm going to burn your books...

Which Path Do I Take?

Someone posited a question in that great bastion of wisdom, Facebook: "What is more important: truth or kindness?" There were dozens of responses, and they all said that kindness was more important than truth. What have we come to? I suppose it's better to lie than to be unkind? It's better to be sweet than to uphold justice? I'm afeared for this generation. 

Maybe these are just some really nice people who don't want to hurt anyone's feelings. Maybe our current culture has made folks step back and reevaluate their tone. I'm afraid that we've lost the foundations that make a society able to stand, when things become difficult. Because if truth matters less than kindness, there's no path to follow...it all becomes relative to any given situation. 

I looked up the words "truth" and "mercy" in the scriptures. They are used together over and over, inseparable from one another. In Psalm 85, it even says "Mercy and truth are met together; righteousness and peace have kissed each other." So it's not that we should choose one or the other. It's that both are necessary. Truth without kindness or love is a hollow master. Kindness without truth is a gradual slouch towards meaninglessness. "Speak the truth in love" is another scripture whose application requires thought and wisdom. 

The truth can hurt, and not everything has to be said, just because it's true. The signposts of truth are what lead one to repentance. Then it's mercy that gives hope and light for life. We need them both, especially now.

Wake Up and Smell the Joy

After a fitful half-night of sleep, I stumbled onto the cool wood floor, blurry and unsure of what planet I had landed on. I'm still recovering from major abdominal surgery, with drain lines snaking out of my body and a big compression garment contorting my insides. There's no real sleep happening, every which way I turn hurts, but time and work march on and I'm trying to not be a wimp. My dear husband has been an angel, listening to my whining and tucking me gently in every night. 

As I wobbled out the door to let the dog do her business, my bare feet hit the mushy, cold, wet grass. Mud squished up between my toes as I regretted not putting on my neon pink Crocs. She took her time, sniffing and wandering all over the yard for just the right spot. This dog is insecure and wants me right next to her before she eats, sleeps or eliminates. She kept looking to me, to follow her through the miserable grass until her Highness discovered the best pile of leaves to go in. My grumpy self barked at her, "Hurry up! I wanna go back to bed!" I was half-dressed, cold, and pondering my silly first-world problems when I looked up to the sky. Periwinkle blue melted over to the east, where coral pink and yellow spilled all over the tops of the trees. The light and air fairly glowed with golden dew. The birds were having a music festival, three chipmunks tittered and ran in front of me, and the dog started rolling gleefully in the moss (we don't have grass, it's apparently not possible). I decided to go ahead and take a little walk. The whole earth was welcoming the day with something akin to a symphony and I needed to get in on it.

Just a brief stroll around the corner, and my heart lifted with the simple beauty of God's creation. The leaves are just about to turn, the animals are storing up, the sky is clear as a bell and I can smell folks making breakfast. There's mud and mess and mayhem in the news. But the front page right here is a lung-ful of sweet air, my good neighbors all around living life, all my children tucked in with their spouses and babies, husband already at work, and a new day dawning. Happy day.

Happy Campers

 I'll never forget that early fall morning, the first cool Saturday Ken and I had had since we married the spring before. I was driving down a street in Mableton, where we lived, when I saw a nice pop-up camper for sale in a neighbor's yard. I grew up tent camping on Lake Allatoona with my family. When we graduated to a decrepit pop-up camper that my folks bought and renovated back to mint condition, we thought we'd won the lottery.   Back then, we didn't have cellphones, so I used the owner's house phone to call him. "Hey honey, I just found a pop-up camper here around the corner for sale. It's in great condition and they're only asking $125! Can I buy it?!" A long pause, then he said, "Does it have a bathroom?" I retorted: "Of course not, it's a POP-UP camper. They don't have bathrooms. But it's way better than a tent and it's awesome." He said, "Naw, I'm not camping in anything that doesn't have a bathroom. I'm really a Holiday-Inn-kind-of guy." Somewhere along the line, even though I'd played football, basketball, tennis and every kind of competitive board game with my husband, I had failed to ask about his views on the subject of camping. But heck, he wore lots of flannel and looked for all the world like a lumberjack. Surely this was not a problem. In my list of must-haves, I wanted a guy who loved Jesus, wanted a house full of kids, could chop some wood, but especially that I didn't sense in any way that I might could beat up. I was a college athlete and grew up playing ball with my Daddy and sister in the front yard. Any serious dating relationship of mine at some point included at least an arm-wrestling match. When I teased at wrestling Ken one day and he pinned me faster than a duck on a June bug, that box was happily checked. This new knowledge took me aback, but I didn't believe in divorce. Somehow we were going to have to make it work.

So we did, without camping. Until I managed to persuade the man to move us and four kids into an old camper onto our land, where we lived for two years and built a house. We sold the thing after we moved in the house and figured that would be the end of that. Until this summer...one of our sons and his wife bought a camper and renovated it. He started talking about us getting one. In recent years, I have enjoyed surprising Ken with various "toys" (used, of course) on birthdays and holidays. I've gotten him a truck and a golf cart, to his great surprise. So one night, our son teased Ken about a camper on Facebook marketplace and made him think that I'd gone and bought it. I went along with the joke, and when the kids left, Ken turned to me and said, "I can't believe you bought that!" I told him it was all a joke and that we were pulling his leg. His crestfallen face surprised me. He was disappointed! So of course I started looking for a used camper in earnest, eventually buying one and pulling it up to Los Cowboys one evening and surprising him at dinner. We've been on a quest these last few weeks, to figure out how it works, where we're gonna camp soon, and buying supplies for the thing. I'm going to paint it all vintage colors and doll it up. I've got all the supplies, but now recuperating from surgery so I have to wait a few weeks to get painting. Meanwhile, I'm fit to be tied. Papa finally wants to go camping! But then again, it does have a bathroom...