Tuesday, February 15, 2011

The Inner Bends of My Late-Evening Psyche

Isn't it funny how light changes thing?

I'll be honest. That's the end of that thought. It's not some clever jumping point into a witty post, full of smarts.

I'm feeling a bit discombobulated, if you really must know.

Don't have a single good reason for it.

It's not a sad mood. It's just a...pensive mood.

Incidentally, when Calvin was three years old we were out tooling around in our sweet, red ride and he was staring quite contemplatively out the window. I said to him, "Calvin? Are you sad?" He replied, without hesitating, "No, I'm just...pensive."

He really was pensive.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

And I will never, ever use that word again without thinking of that moment.

The end.



OK no, I'm not done.

Here's a bit of news: We had a showing today! I whipped this house into shape. I've got it down to a science.

Mid-way through cleaning the thought struck me, "These people could actually buy our house!" I had entirely forgotten that the possibility even existed.

And here, all the while, I thought I was just a pit-stop on the Farm-a-Rama tour!

We had chili and root-beer floats tonight with a bunch of kids from Cory's new job.

Have I ever told you about Cory's new job? No?

He works at an alternative high school with 9 campuses statewide. He's the Director of Community Development.

He's loving every single minute. And you know what I love? I love seeing new things about my husband's heart, when I thought I had already seen it all.

This new job is a game-changer. Or maybe the game changed over a year ago and this is a just a smaller part of the whole. All I know is that nearly 2 years ago Cory told me about The Crossing and how impressed he was with the work they were doing. He raved about the leadership. He wanted to send them money. It was his dream job, but it was a far-away dream, because he was already locked down. He was really good at his old job. We were comfortable, in all sorts of ways.

We dreamed about a new thing, but it's hard to say if we would have ever taken the leap.

As you know, we never did leap. We were pushed. And you know? That's not a half-bad thing.

My baby is still sick. He calls medicine "funna-meen", and laughs at me like I'm loony when I say it back to him that way.

Also, I think my forehead might be growing. They tell you it's the nose that keeps growing... Perhaps I'm an anomaly?

To wrap up this day, we watched a Frontline documentary on human trafficking. They showed the little boys, their Mamas long gone, and I had to force myself to keep watching.

The older I get, the harder it is to stomach the brutality in this world.

The older I get, the more I know that it's important to see the truth; not just my cushy, insulated truth, but everyone's.

So I think I've adequately proven my point: My head's all askew tonight. My edges are blurred and faded. It happens with surprising frequency. You might as well know.

It's an hour past the time that I was ready to fall into bed, but here I sit, wondering to myself, "What does it mean to give it up? How exactly do we lay our life down?"

I'm asking. What do you think it means?