"Aaron" painting

I went to visit Aaron (Mark and Diane) this weekend. The original purpose of my visit was to be "child care" while Mark and Diane went out for their Valentine's Day dinner/surprise concert. As soon as Aaron found out I was coming, he asked me if we could paint. OF COURSE! I immediately started scouting out Pinterest to find some cute ideas. We had SO MUCH FUN! Aaron decided that we should hang his painting on his bedroom door so everyone knows it's his room. :-)

Enjoy.

"Not playing" is never an option.

I found my clarinet at my parent’s house over Thanksgiving. My mom, somehow, was able to talk me into helping her get all 20 tubs of Christmas decorations down from the storage area above their garage, and there it was. Just sitting there. It’s funny how something as simple as a musical instrument can ignite old memories that sometimes feel like they just happened yesterday and at other times they feel like they belonged to someone else. Almost as if I only heard them as a story.

As I opened the case, I tried to remember the last time I played. I couldn’t. Sometime in college. Marching band. Sophomore year. Fall of 2002. Almost 10 years ago.

Maybe I can remember.

Right before Christmas break at Harding, marching band was over, and we were practicing for our Christmas concert to be preformed in chapel. I wasn’t even sure I was going to play because I had just had my wisdom teeth removed, not exactly conducive to playing an instrument, but “not playing” wasn’t exactly an option.

Instead of a memory, maybe it's one big metaphor for my life. The concert went on as planned, not necessarily dependent on my presence. 10 years later at 11:40pm it doesn't seem to have made a huge difference in the world. No one remembers that concert but me, I guess. There were much better musicians in that band than I could ever pretend to be, my my wonderful skills as a clarinetist weren't exactly critical. And yet, 10 years later at 11:40pm, this memory floods my brain, with the resounding theme that seems to have stuck with me.

You always show up. You always play. After all, not playing is never an option.

Right?

Longing for a time...

I'm sitting on my couch with my computer open to my blog and my ipad open to Psalms knowing that the writer of Psalms seems to know my heart. As I try to choose just one song or poem from the heart of David, I am discovering it's ALL of them. Somehow I have a kindred spirit with David as I read his writing. His heart seems to follow the same pattern as my heart. He seems to be conflicted constantly between the joy and celebration of who God is and at the same time, long for protection, love, mercy, revenge, healing, knowledge, and relief. He seems to go in "shifts" of requests, praise, and anger all coming from the same heart.

My heart is going in shifts today. When I try to choose just one song or poem, I am discovering that there isn't one. How do you express one heart when it is all broken into pieces? Not all bad pieces, just different pieces with vastly different songs. Some pieces are praise, mercy, compassion, and love. Right now, the song that seems to be the biggest piece is a longing for healing. My family seems to be running parallel with my heart, in pieces; or maybe my heart is a reflection of the heart of my family.

Some pieces are in celebration for a new life being added to our family. Some pieces of anger hidden beneath a blanket of tears and hurtful words between our family. Other pieces long for protection and mercy, for compassion and understanding for our family.

All pieces long for a time of healing.

This is my psalm:

How long, oh Lord, will my heart and my family be in pieces? How long will it be? Surely there will be a time when everyone is healed. Surely there will be a time when You have seen enough suffering from the people You love. How long will You be silent? Are you silent? Why can't I hear You?

How long, oh Lord, will the pain seem to override the joy? The joy takes hold for a short time, but is fleeting. How long will it be? Surely you see my dad's pain. Surely you see my mom's pain. Surely you can see how complicated it all seems. Can't you see how broken everything is? How can You watch while it all unravels? Help me hear You. Show me Your love. I beg for understanding and compassion when anger and pain seem to blind me.

Community

I never watched the TV show "Cheers". Since shows like "Roseanne" and "The Simpsons" were off the table, it's no surprise that my parents banned a show in which the setting is in a bar. I've seen reruns, and I would probably recognize the theme song if I heard it. I even know a few bits and pieces about the show's purpose. (Don't tell my parents.) Today, the lyrics caught my attention.

Making your way in the world today takes everything you've got.
Taking a break from all your worries, sure would help a lot.

Wouldn't you like to get away?

Sometimes you want to go

Where everybody knows your name,
and they're always glad you came.
You wanna be where you can see,
our troubles are all the same
You wanna be where everybody knows your name.

You wanna go where people know,
people are all the same,
You wanna go where everybody knows your name.

I'll get straight to the point. While reading these lyrics, it shocked me that I want exactly what these words say. A community. Coming to the realization that this community they are referring to is a bar hits me hard. With no intention of making judgments on the bar setting, on the contrary, the lyrics of this song remind me of the community I long for with other Christians. A community that knows me. A group of people that hold me accountable and in check for my choices and my thoughts. I do have a type of community. I have several people in my life that know me. This is very true, and I value those people more than anything. My realization of community comes after reflecting on the idea of community. It's not a new concept to me as I have heard it since I was a kid, the Body of Christ and its parts - Sunday School 101. The newness comes from the idea that each part contributes to the whole. (I'm sure I'm already supposed to know that. Oh well.) Yes, you need each part, and every part has a role. But a role for what? That part is participating in something greater than parts. It's participating with the purpose of making something whole. They aren't supposed to be disconnected parts. They are supposed to be connected. Connected to other parts to form one body.

I feel like I'm disconnected. I'm connected with a few other parts in many different places, but I'm missing the whole. The hard part - it's my choice. In all this, I know it's my choice to be disconnected. For whatever reason or excuse I have, legitimate or not, It's my choice. I have been satisfied with limiting my connection to the whole body. It's easier. It's comfortable.

Then again, I guess if it was easier, I wouldn't feel the lack of community.

Lord, help me choose to be connected. Somehow, somewhere. Help me get over my fear of being uncomfortable. Show me how to get over my excuses of traveling, work, and family. Break apart my thoughts of arrogance that no one does it right. Keep me from believing I can do it on my own all the time. Give me the strength to resist being disconnected because it's easier. In the name of Jesus, Amen.

Unannounced Visit

Sometimes when I'm in my apartment I think I have quite a bit of space, and I do when just one or two people are here. Friday night, we squished 7 adults and 3 kids in my little apartment! Mom and dad stayed the night, and mom and I went shopping all day today. I was able to find some new pillows for my couch and some patio furniture. For my birthday that is coming up, my mom bought me two plants for my porch. It looks great. What a great weekend!

My new Patio furniture

Beautiful Hibiscus my mom bought me for my Birthday

Two Two year old boys learning on RaRa's ipad

Dad, Matt, and Mark solving all problems of the world

Isaac practicing his standing

Aaron and Eli's favorite place at RaRa's house

"RaRa, I want paint wit you."

Seriously, how do you say "no" to that? After spending a little time at home today, working on school stuff, I headed down to Tullahoma to fulfill the wishes of a little boy. As soon as I arrived, Aaron and I headed to Walmart to buy a few supplies so we could paint. A couple canvases and some washable paint later and we were on our way to a masterpiece. Aaron picked ALL the colors and designs.

THIS...MUCH

Before you get to see the surprise, you need the background story.

Two years ago, Gloria and I loaded up her jeep and drove from Washington state to Kentucky. Elayna was 10 months old. A few months after we got there, I was trying to explain to EV how much I loved her. I would ask her, "How much does your Eeooch love you? THIS....MUCH!" I would put my hands out as far as I could while I said, "THIS...MUCH!" After about 10 or 20 times of helping her put her hands out, she started doing it with me each time I would ask her how much her Eeooch loved her. Eventually, every time she saw me, whether I asked her my famous question or not, she would stretch her hands out. Her hands gradually started getting closer and closer. She soon developed a new "sign" that represented me, hands about shoulder width apart and moved up and down. Several years and a few more nephews and nieces later, she has now started calling me "RaRa" just like the boys, but that famous question is still very much alive inside both of us.

While checking my mail this morning, I discovered an envelop from my two wonderful nieces. I was expecting a fun little card or maybe a beautiful picture colored by Elayna with some evidence of Cora some where in the corner. INSTEAD, I opened the envelop to discover this...