Yeah, I know ... long time, no write. I'm not gonna whine about the busyness and blur that was the close of Advent and the movement from Christmastide into Epiphany. But, I could and most of it would be true ... it just wouldn't be pretty. And, really all of us are busy and deal with the blur of one moment into another.
I received a special gift through Facebook about a week ago and it's been marinating in my brain since then. A cousin of mine (of whom I am tremendously proud because her determination and success at getting healthy has led to way over 100 pounds lost!) where was I ... Allecia sent me a nostalgic ride on the Zippin Pippin! Now, those were the days!
Do you remember the wind in your hair, the clackety-clack of all that wheels on wooden boards action, and the whiplash of it all?! Can I just say it for all of us that riding the Z.P. at 13, 14 is not the same experience as riding it at 30-something or 40-something. As much as I loved it back in the day, I'm not loving the Z.P. I seem to be riding these days. A similar disconcerting sound in the wind of things bumping together violently - sometimes it's my knees minus a little cartilage now; sometimes it's the dreams and hopes I've carried for the perfect life crashing into the reality of my every day ... day after day. And, a similar whiplash when the steep hills and the quick turns threaten to toss me out of my seat. I still long to raise my arms with confidence and courage, even a little rash boldness and scream at the top of my lungs with that mix of joy and thrill that faces fear and sees it squashed.
That's not the sound coming from my lungs these days. Whimpers and fatigued groans is more like it. These past weeks have been filled with making the preparations to help my mother move to an independent living situation just short of assisted living. And, I have to say that this whiplash of emotion, the sads and the glads all mixed together, is turning out to be one of the toughest roller-coaster rides so far. It's tougher than I though to watch this graceful and gracious woman reduce the symbols and signs of a full life well-lived into what will fit into just a few boxes, choosing between the better and the best of all she has and is.
But, I believe in a God for whom all things are possible and the Lord of All has proven the Truth of that in so many big and small ways these past weeks. I'm trusting that when I, when we catch our breath once the fridge is stocked and the shower curtain hung, the t.v. hooked up, and the security code learned, that we will also feel that familiar rush at the end of a Z.P. ride ... not the adrenaline that leaves you feeling like you've got to have more of the same. No, the rush I'm talking about is that powerful peace at having done more than just survived something, but finding new life in that little death, a new hope even with end of the "ride." I'm hoping and trusting ... even as we pack these last boxes.
I received a special gift through Facebook about a week ago and it's been marinating in my brain since then. A cousin of mine (of whom I am tremendously proud because her determination and success at getting healthy has led to way over 100 pounds lost!) where was I ... Allecia sent me a nostalgic ride on the Zippin Pippin! Now, those were the days!
Do you remember the wind in your hair, the clackety-clack of all that wheels on wooden boards action, and the whiplash of it all?! Can I just say it for all of us that riding the Z.P. at 13, 14 is not the same experience as riding it at 30-something or 40-something. As much as I loved it back in the day, I'm not loving the Z.P. I seem to be riding these days. A similar disconcerting sound in the wind of things bumping together violently - sometimes it's my knees minus a little cartilage now; sometimes it's the dreams and hopes I've carried for the perfect life crashing into the reality of my every day ... day after day. And, a similar whiplash when the steep hills and the quick turns threaten to toss me out of my seat. I still long to raise my arms with confidence and courage, even a little rash boldness and scream at the top of my lungs with that mix of joy and thrill that faces fear and sees it squashed.
That's not the sound coming from my lungs these days. Whimpers and fatigued groans is more like it. These past weeks have been filled with making the preparations to help my mother move to an independent living situation just short of assisted living. And, I have to say that this whiplash of emotion, the sads and the glads all mixed together, is turning out to be one of the toughest roller-coaster rides so far. It's tougher than I though to watch this graceful and gracious woman reduce the symbols and signs of a full life well-lived into what will fit into just a few boxes, choosing between the better and the best of all she has and is.
But, I believe in a God for whom all things are possible and the Lord of All has proven the Truth of that in so many big and small ways these past weeks. I'm trusting that when I, when we catch our breath once the fridge is stocked and the shower curtain hung, the t.v. hooked up, and the security code learned, that we will also feel that familiar rush at the end of a Z.P. ride ... not the adrenaline that leaves you feeling like you've got to have more of the same. No, the rush I'm talking about is that powerful peace at having done more than just survived something, but finding new life in that little death, a new hope even with end of the "ride." I'm hoping and trusting ... even as we pack these last boxes.
