Tuesday, August 30, 2011

You Thought I Was Done?

It's a breezy kind of day today, the kind that makes the stack of papers on the island scatter across the floor when you're not looking, the kind that makes you look over your shoulder for a pop-up shower that never comes.

The days are taking on a new kind of rhythm and we're rinsing the house in air with the perfect tinge of cool. Maybe this is what they mean when they talk about fresh air. Warm air just never feels very fresh. Maybe it's just me.

I went to bed last night a little groggy, a little stuffy, very sure that I had come down with a lightening-fast cold. I woke up dreamy and well, so I chalked it all up to allergies. Blast 'em.

Clearly, things are changing. The light has a little less glare. There's a filter sliding across it, and we all know what that means, but I'm not about to say it, because for now? It's still Summer.

Go ahead. Hate me. I will holler about Summer every day that I am able. It's just that good. It's good in a bathing suit in June and it's every bit as good in a three-quarter sleeved cardigan in late-late August.

The garden is winding down. It's a crying shame out there. A lawless place. Even still, there are tomatoes and peppers and the errant tough bean.

Speaking of law, I happened upon this earlier today: "Obviously, the law applies to those to whom it was given, for its purpose is to keep people from having excuses, and to show that the entire world is guilty before God. For no one can ever be made right with God by doing what the law commands. The law simply shows us how sinful we are." Romans 3: 19-20, NLT

Only in the past year am I beginning to understand the purpose of the law, in light of Grace. "The law simply shows us how sinful we are." I love the "simply" here. It might as well say, "Duh, people." "Duh, Shannan." The law can never be kept, and isn't that a relief? "People are made right with God when they believe that Jesus sacrificed his life, shedding his blood...So we are made right with God through faith." (Romans 3:25b, 28)

I cannot do perfection. I cannot do striving to live a life that is seen as blameless and honorable to those around me. I can't try everyday-everyday-everyday to balance the scales between successes and failures and hope that the God grades on a curve.

But I can do faith, because above all else, there is grace.

I did not start this post intending to say all of that. I guess that's just what late-Summer air will do to a girl.

What I really meant to do was wrap up my weekend. Since I've already talked your ear off, I shall employ bullet points.

  • A single onesie hanging on a line might just inspire thoughts of additional babies. Might.
  • Self-explanatory. (aka Duh.)

  • See bullet #1.

  • I call this kid Jack-o-Lantern Teeth. Since this shot was taken, he's two more down.

  • I've always been enamored of bugs with flowers. Juxtapose me, baby.

  • Many layers of proof that Summer is still among us.

  • This poor guy found himself in the midst of the impromptu vintage tractor parade and, well, he fit right in. Although I think he wondered why we were all waving to him.

Finally, a story.

I wanted a picture of my cousin Vickie and I. I asked my mom if she would do the honors, though it's important to note that I only had the big camera with me.

Just as we were lining up, Vickie said, "Remember, I just had a baby!" I followed with, "Just take it from the chest up."

This is what we got.

My mom was all holding the big, beastly camera a foot in front of her like it was a $19 Sony digital, acting like she could see the picture on the backside of the camera even though she couldn't. Have mercy, it was a sight.

We saw the final shot and it cracked our business UP.

Vickie made me promise to post the picture on my blog because she's got a sense of humor and doesn't take life too seriously. (Just my kind of lady.)

This was attempt number two. We were at least moving in the right direction.

The third time was the charm.

I love you, Mama! It's obvious that I get my mortal fear of technology from you.