Observations

Ivan has been a troubled little boy. With his desire to be a baby he cannot conquer potty training by principle. He has been doing so much better though and I’m sure a few backward moments will continue like yesterday morning, and right themselves again by the afternoon.

We visited Kris’ aunt Gloria and his Kelso grandparents yesterday. Grammy and Great-Grandpa had driven up again to tiny little Santa Fe, TN and though we were glad to see them the circumstances surrounding their visit were not exactly positive. Gloria moved to Tennessee just a few weeks ago and almost upon arrival a lingering back pain issue grew to the point of an emergency room visit. This turned into an MRI and ultimately a grave diagnosis of cancer. We visited and watched the boys play, ate lunch and talked about options, non-options and hope. What is God doing? What can we do to make it easier? What have others done that worked and didn’t work? What color would look good in this room? Stuff like that. I saw a little fear behind the eyes, but mostly I saw a family taking bad news with a calm respect for the giant they are facing and a decided admiration of the God who will show them the weapon to bring him down.

Dad is here. He’s working on my sewing machine. He is a bit hard of hearing and it struck me this morning how it has made him a bit more discerning. Not that he was ever the curious sort but these days he weighs conversation with an even more discriminate scale. I know that this morning he saw me mumbling something, but he didn’t ask…he didn’t try to find out what gibberish I was venting while I washed off the breakfast table, he just looked and moved on up the stairs. It’s not easy to hear only parts of the conversation constantly flowing around him, but it’s becoming easier to realize what’s important enough to garner an intelligent response.

I went to a baby shower on Sunday. It was among all new acquaintances and I took a normal gift, I sat with everyone else, I did not try to overpower or outdo while in conversation and I had a good time. I was myself, not an exaggerated version of myself and when I left, the hostess said to me, “Mary you are so funny. You have a wonderful sense of humor.” My first reaction was to open my mouth and let fly all the reasons I am funny…I filtered that reaction and squeezed out a thank you instead. For some reason being funny is very important to me. I don’t always try to be funny, sometimes I just talk and it’s funny whether I’m trying or not. I realize that I think differently than a lot of people and that my thought processes lean towards the humor in circumstances. Most of the time, it’s a fun way to live. That first reaction though sort of startled me. As if I were still clinging to my “funny trophies” and had to relay to her that it’s no accident that I’m funny…I used to be a professional funny person. I mentioned all of this to Kris and how I overcame the moment by quickly realizing my list of funny accomplishments didn’t matter to the moment and he said, “And you can just be funny.” Well, yes, I guess I could just be funny. I could just make new friends and if it never came up I could just have a relationship with these people based on the merits they see in me and not what I’ve conquered in the past. What if I’m just every day average Mary Jo funny. Is that enough?

Things look good outside right now there is still a lot of color from the back windows of our house. Each day the wind delights us with yellow showers of leaves raining on the grass below and it’s really beautiful. Very soon the show will be over, the tree trunks bare of the lace and trim that made us look, will stand naked and ashamed, hoping we look away. In the midst of it all the sun still shines, the rain still pours and the wind still blows. Everything that made the trees beautiful is still at work…each leaf that collectively mattered to the scene before our eyes will become the fuel of encouragement for next year’s panorama…and the bare branches must choose between brittle defeat, or the desire to draw life from somewhere down below and hold on in hope of spring’s violent resurrection.

I’ve seen a lot of changes…I’ve seen things look better and get worse. I’ve seen confidence grown and devastation used as fertilizer. I’ve seen hope and determination waiting for their next move and I’ve seen complacency settle for backward steps and failure. It’s all part of the scene, it’s part of what makes it beautiful and causes us to keep walking when our feet have no more than a lamp to guide them. It’s not always a beautiful view that draws us, sometimes it’s a distant call for help or just a call to be obedient. I’m realizing it isn’t always time to grow…sometimes we just have to wait, knowing that being still has it’s merit, that a sabbath counts as hard work and rest is more than just a good night’s sleep. All the pain of letting what is colorful and beautiful blow away in the wind has to be met with a salve of time, a covering of purity and a rebirth that we cannot awaken on our own.