Tuesday, April 30, 2013

Turn, Turn, Turn

In a matter of days we've crossed the bridge from the prim, pursed lips of the socialite tulips who believe in their heart of hearts that we all owe them the world (we do) (shhh) to the fiery teenager tulips with their skirts crooked and splayed, flaming red.

The socialites were first to the scene, so charming and graceful, backs straight, lined up like a church lady choir.

The angsty, messy teenagers don't even bother playing it cool. Their faces open wide to the sky and the air, their inked-up arms reach out to grab what they can. They're star-struck. Front row ticket holders. They don't give a rip if we're impressed. They know they signal an end to this fine act. They don't mind at all that it means they're almost goners.

The socialites sure are pretty, but I'm figuring out that I'm a trashy teenager. Or at least I aspire to be.

(Do you ever write a line on your blog and imagine it emblazoned as a headline when you, say, run for President someday? Me, either.)

Summer's kinda here, baby. We all have a fresh pair of $2 flip-flops to prove it.

Things came more alive today and my heart was quiet, because I know that just as this season takes its turn, shuts its door, the world it moves in does the same, and none of us is exempt.

I would have guessed that finally coming to grips with a life that never stops changing would have left me bereft, unsettled. Truth is, I find it tremendously comforting today. It means that all that is required of me is to live this day well. Tomorrow will be a different scene, a different sky. It will be new challenges, new heart cracks, new chances to run outside during my free hour to clip a branch of tangible hope and carry it with me inside.

I desperately want to hold on to this free-fall. I want to wear it until it fits like a second skin.

We lived this day well, and we can do it again tomorrow and then again and again, when things are different and the tulip petals make a carpet for whatever comes next.

We can be certain about the promise that He never changes, and that He is our home. So today, right now, I'm okay throwing my hands in the air, shucking the rules, and playing my music way too loud. With me?

PS -  Our new canvas came. I love it so much. The 8x10 looks smaller than I thought it would, with the sides all wrapped. But we can't all be an 11x17. {EDIT:: Just measured the canvas. Sure enough, 8x10 without including the sides!}

PSS - Crack broccoli, okay? It has revolutionized our broccoli-eating (see, nothing stays the same!) and we were fairly high on the broccoli-loving totem pole. (Now I'm finding it impossible to move on because I'm imagining what a broccoli-loving totem pole might look like... I need a moment...)

So. Here's the recipe. It is imperative that you follow the directions, specifically the one that says to heat the baking sheet with the oven. It makes the most satisfying sizzling sound when you toss it on the pan. And make sure you squeeze lemon over it at at the end! I can't stop loving it. It's the healthier version of crack bark, by a factor of about 2 million.

And, now I want crack bark. Goodbye.