you would think that with all five littles combed and sneakered off to school each day, i'd have rivers of quiet space to do things like quilt and scour tubs and, um, blog.
so far this program has not panned out.
as it happens, missions prep is something of a pretty big job--one that's already yielded precious conversations and friendships, beyond our wildest reckonings, and one that's rooted my knees to the floorboards in prayer. at the beginning, middle and end of the day, it's all God carrying us every inch of the way to africa. but He lets me in on His work, and this thrills and exhausts me by turn, and in spite of the forces of gravity and introversion i find myself leaping at the chance.
then we have our soccer. i could wax ridiculous on my love of the game, but i'll spare the many of you who truly do not care and just say this: certain angles of our son's jv season have been hard on my patience and charitable organs. but it struck me again just yesterday that the main point of b on the team is not to get loads of playing time or quality coaching or the rush of winning a game. the main point is to make much of God, and that can be done in spite of--or maybe especially in--unfair circumstances.
i've so very much to learn.
speaking of learning: the first few weeks of school have gone swimmingly, by which i mean the kids all seem to love the place and little m has only gone off adventuring once (that we know of), and was thankfully rounded up in the parking lot. also, he has embraced the universal joy of scissors, and on more than one occasion he's carted home work from the day snipped apart all willy-nilly when it's pretty clear cutting was not a step in the actual assignment. i plan to attend the parent-teacher conference in disguise.
full today, from -friends who know how to love -fresh broccoli in our rattlesnake pasta -funny, talented, beautiful brothers -jasmine and chipati -fifty-six degree nights -leif enger -unmerited favor for prodigals like me
friday night i climbed between cold bed sheets at the embarrassing hour of seven-forty-five. i'd promised books to L, so she fattened up her pillow and read me some junie b, boss of lunch and not even her icicle toes on my kneecaps could keep me conscious for long.
it'd been a long week, hard but plenty good.
the kidfolk started school on thursday with all the drama of clouds clapping thunder and an extra-late bus, but they were mostly chill with just a salting of first-day fervor. even little m, trying on academia for the very first time, didn't seem one bit nervous: his experience in life is that people love him. he shows up someplace, he's a big hit. this kindergarten thing was cake.
so then it was just me and my over-creamered coffee and the most productive day i'd had all summer. [side note: it's miraculous how much one can accomplish when you're not haggling with a six year old over every line item of the day's proposed agenda.]
and right when i got to the afternoon ache of missing my kids, they scooted back home again for cookie bars and first day homework. i love these folks.
speaking of love, somewhere between age sixteen and thirty five, i've grown an earnest crush on nearly all things vegetable. most summers i stake up a tomato plant or two (that plus crabgrass are the only things that don't wither and die at the sight of me), but this year things were a wee bit hectic and i never quite managed it.
luckily for us, we are friends with people who have gardens of such grand scale that just stepping over the rectangles of fencing wire heralds us back to an era mid-jurassic. we showed up at the first blush of tomatoes a couple saturdays back, when the banana peppers were in full chorus. there's something about breathing the earthy tang of all that loam and leaves, sun spilling early on your shoulders, that feels just right for cracking open the day.
apparently my love language is produce.
and now i am off to tackle another kilimanjaro of house/missions/etsy work. have a gorgeous, tomato-filled monday, my friends.