Determined steps

"No," Ezra said and tucked his arm close to his chest, away from my open hand.  My twenty-month-old's adamant denial of help reminded me that he was no longer a baby.  So, I sighed, cautiously watched him grasp the railing, and willed each foot to find a sure step along the stairway.  I stayed in front of him in case he needed my arms, but made sure to give him the space he demanded.

When the sole of his foot clapped the cool laminate, Ezra's eyes met mine and an accomplished smile spread wide until a little giggle emerged.  Then, he bounded off ready to face another challenge - his bubbly gait quickly finding its way from my line of vision.

In my own life determination waxes and wanes.  Sometimes, I feel so focused and able to accomplish anything.  Other times, my footing slips and I wonder if my challenges or even simple duties will overwhelm me.

Friend, does that describe your life?  Do you doubt one moment only to feel buoyed by ambitious possibility the next? 

I wonder, is balance really an evenness of emotion or rather is it experiencing an even amount of extreme emotions?  That is, we savor joy, because we know wretchedness; crave peace, because we agonize over agitation; hunger hope due to doubt and distrust; and long for love when rancor bristles so readily in a fallen world.

Instead of lamenting my inability to keep a steady spread of emotion, perhaps I should rejoice that I can know true emotion.  Apathy exudes from too many faces I see in this world.  So, let's thank God for the wealth of feeling and run unabashedly about, ready to spread joy, peace, hope, and love at every turn.

Sticky grapes

Each autumn, the cooler breezes and blue skies bring the promise of harvesting grapes.  Wizened branches yield plump fruits on an arbor at the family farmhouse, where Mommy and Grandpa Olen and even my great-grandfather were born. 

One bright Saturday morning, some of the family arrive with snippers and buckets to gather grapes.  And then, on Mommy's porch, we pull the meaty fruits from their stems.  Sticky juice smears my fingers until they look like purple grapes, themselves. 

For days the faux bruising lasts.  The viscid smears remind me of the emotional pain that adheres to my thoughts.  Harsh criticism, personal ridicule, uninvited advice...  Friend, do you have such clinging cobwebs in your heart?  Does your mind sometimes reel painful memories, the ones you desperately want to forget?

Today, while my mother decorated her Christmas tree with Joey and my husband took Ezra on a recycling rampage, I opened the curtains, straightened toys from their usual clutter across the floor, and listened to the latest WOW.  Slowly, I felt peaceful - those sticky thoughts subdued and silent. 

It takes time to heal from painful pasts, friend.  Perhaps today you, too, can feel a surge of hope in the beauty that hugs your life.

Grated parsnips

Flecks of cream-colored parsnip settle on the turquoise cutting board, the table, and even the floor, where bits of carrot mingle with stray pine needles from a freshly-made and aromatic pine wreath and a plastic straw reminiscent of mushy miniature marshmallows floating in hot cocoa cups, an earlier entisement for two toddlers hesitant to come indoors.  Parsnip and carrot latke paddies cool on a plate while the boys growl amidst their wild play in the other room.  Dinner always calms them, for a little while.

When I'm hungry, I tend to brute-about, too.  I like to make unique and savory dishes to sway my appetite.  But, honestly, I don't always have the energy or the creativity to put into a wholesome, yet delectable, meal.  Do you feel like that, friend?

I do know, though, that when I opt for a salad as flavorful as it is colorful or knead and bake whole grain bread; when I shake water drops from plump grapes or meaty sugar snap peas; when I use recipes for my pies or pizzas instead of buying Mrs. Smith's or DiGiorno's frozen counterparts, I feel better.  My body benefits.  My tastebuds blossom.  My mind is at ease knowing what ingredients I am putting into the meals I consume.

So, friend, I sharpen my knives, research new and healthful recipes, and keep my dish drain at hand.  Cooking culinary creations is one of the most important life-skills.  So, friend, let's challenge ourselves to bring our minds as much peace as our stomachs: pass on the store-bought candybar and grab a dish of Greek spanakopita.

Browsing blessings

In my kitchen, there is a painting framed by gold and brown painted wood.  The scene depicts an Old World city, whose smooth-stone streets overflow with foot traffic: peasants browsing bread and fish and grapes on umbrella-covered vending carts, men with hands shoved deep in pockets and conversing by a moss-kissed wall, unnamed faces meandering under bridges that connect the upper stories of houses to a roadway on the hill above.  On rooftops, birds roost and green fruit trees seem to sway in an unpainted breeze.  From windows, white clothes catch the sun's rays as they filter through thick clouds. 

It's not a grandiose locale that exudes a promise of freedom from the routine of life.  Instead, it captures a reflection on the close or beginning of the day filled with even the mundane, like sweeping dust from the foyer or preparing meals or procuring even the smallest scrap for a living. 

The painting challenges me to watch for those little blessings that I overlook: the volley of hugs and kisses from my plump almost-two-year-old as he weights me to the chair, sweet smiles from my Joey and that heart-mellowing "I love you, Mommy," twinkling eyes from my spouse when I'm in his sight, an invitation to spend time with a good friend, a love letter lingering near my morning tea mug, even a brief moment enjoying an endearing interest (who doesn't melt at transcribing Greek papyri or throwing balls of clay on a pottery wheel?), or ... 

I know, friend, there are many blessings you could add to the list.  Part the curtains that hang with burdens and view the day with different eyes - eyes transfixed on those moments when joy could have broken your face into a smile.  Perhaps if you and I choose to reflect on blessings more than burdens, our joy might impact the world.

Sharing Smiles

A constant flow of questions oozes from my three-year-old's mouth.  In fact, Joey's inquisitive nature amuses, but also exhausts, anyone visiting: grandparents, friends, repair or delivery persons.  Most likely they all leave feeling so overwhelmed by the vast array of topics one little guy can cover, that the silence outside our home is heartening.

My life feels the same way.  I am so burdened by an influx of uncertainties surrounding daily life, spiritual matters, personal pursuits, and just the general "whys" of this world, that I feel overstimulated - like I stuck my finger in an electric socket.  Rarely do I have a quiet moment to just soak in the act of being.  But, I want to - I want to enjoy life and share the hope that I know with other sojourners.

What about you, friend?  Does your mind stumble over worries and what ifs?  Do doubts hang about like laundry on a line?

Maybe we should leave the worries on the line and share a smile or two instead.  Then, our acts are guaranteed to lighten at least two hearts: ours and that of the smile-receiver.  Somehow, I think my little Joey already knows this!

Juicy Carrots

Yesterday, Ezra loved carrots.  Those delectable orange roots were stewed with seasoned meat and a colorful arrangement of purple cabbage, green peas, and translucent onions.  He ate every carrot on his plate, while leaving an abundance of peas in his wake.

But, peas were the toddler's veggie of choice today.  Not a single carrot made it into his mouth.  Whenever I offered the once beloved orange food, he emphatically shook his head.  If I pursued a bit longer, he declared, "No.  Mommy.  No."

Although his rejection seems silly, I know that my life's choices seem just as zany.  Indeed, I often wonder what I was thinking when I made a past decision.  Too often, I reject alternatives just because I favor what leads me on more comfortable paths.

Do you ever feel like this, friend?  Perhaps you should have veered one way instead of the other?  Maybe turning around or asking for directions would have been a wiser decision?

It's not too late to make a change.  Humankind has an amazing propensity to adapt, as well as its strong urge for independence.  Instead of letting our choices push us into meaningless habits, let's reevaluate our life goals.  If the cause is honorable and the heart is pure, then fear not where God might lead.  In the most vulnerable times, God can work the greatest results. 

Meandering downstream

Reflections fascinate my toddlers.  Ezra smiles at the "baby" in a water-filled bucket and gingerly touches the water's silken skin, sending ripples in every direction.  Joey laughs at the little boy caught in the sheen of a glass door and asks "how we get him out?"  Mirrors provide endless opportunities for the boys to squeal in delight; and just as fun are prisms.

Adults obsess over reflections in a different way.  Our reflections show myriad examples of what we do not like about ourselves.  Perhaps a silver hair here, a wrinkle there.  Inevitably, we walk away with a sigh still lingering nearby.  Friend, we do not just obsess over our images, either, but also our memories.  Remember when?  If only, just good memories came to light.

Recently, I have reflected on something I knew and yet re-realized.  Growing up, not all of us are in control of our decisions.  So many hands are trying to mold us into something beyond what we are.  Those are the hands of peers, parents, community, nation, etc.  And amidst the din of other voices, our own gets smothered.  Yet, when we finally find our own voice, those hands start pulling and pushing again.  If we are not who others want us to be, then we're labeled and set on a shelf for the sake of someone else's personal convenience.  Do you ever feel like that, friend?  Has there been a time in your life when you just didn't know what to do or say?

Instead of struggling against the current, I would rather meander downstream for a while and savor the blessings God has woven into my life.  Would you enjoy the same?  When the rapids come, I'll be ready to raise my voice - but not in discord or malice.  Instead, I want to season words and actions with truth and hope and compassion.