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The LORD tarries, eyes rouse to morn; A soul is quiet, content for now.But restless is the day.
It wants to get it right.
He is bread enough.
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Advent: An Ache Prepares the Way
The stress of my lists are badgering me, and as I talked with a friend this morning, I realized I’m not the only one battling what seems like an ache leading into the season of Advent. We can be a busy and weary crowd come December. I thought of those two things, busyness and weariness, juxtaposed with Advent, a season in which we Christians focus on the gift of a Savior. There is always something to distract me from this, my lists included, and I resent having to fight to focus on Advent this time of year. It makes me ache inside.
Then I read an article by Rob Bell, published by Relevant Magazine, and I was encouraged by his perspective. I found myself suddenly thankful that the busyness and weariness aren’t unlike the scene in Bethlehem at Christ’s advent. Those things that I feel distract me could be the very things that help me receive the gift– the promise that Christ’s advent will fill our aches and deepest longings.
If you have time, the article is worth the read.
http://www.relevantmagazine.com/god/deeper-walk/features/23640-why-advent
Thanksgiving
My first grader proudly handed me this card after school yesterday:
Happy thanksgiving! I am thankful for
my mom she maks diner.
I am thankful for my hous becus
it ceeps us safe. I am thaynkfull for
my sisters becus thay like too play with me.
I am thankfull for my dog
she is vereree sweet.
I am thankfull for my Dad Beecus
he maks munee for are famlee at werc.
I too am thankful for my son and also for my husband, dawturs, frends, hous and werc! For any and all of these things, we are vereee blessed. Happy Thanksgiving, frends.
The Dirty Work of Re-Creation
Like dirty laundry airing in the front yard, the brightly lettered truck advertised our Problem from the driveway. It was a heavy traffic time of day for our neighborhood, people coming home from work, walking dogs, stopping to gape at the goings-on of our house. Maybe a giant rat exterminator truck isn’t as bad as a termite tent when it comes to neighborhood spectacles, but it stopped traffic on our street. Truck and crew spent two hours diagnosing, removing and preventing the incursion of critters. Saws ripped, nail guns blasted and men crawled under the house and up ladders. Better traps were laid with better bait. The exterminator’s website says, “It’s a dirty job, and we love to do it!” I pulled out my checkbook and paid them for their dirty work. Continue reading “The Dirty Work of Re-Creation”
A Wrongful Death
Rat Entry No. 4 (warranting a new category).
Though seen scuttling, slimy tailed, up the garage wall and vanishing into an attic morass, yesterday’s horror was this: no rats were trapped. Something else was, and this is our shame: two delicate, shivering wrens were caught, rendered immovable by two glue strips laid along the garage floor, glue set out for the trapping of rats. The door had been open for only a few minutes. In spite of the peanut butter and chocolate enticements, spring traps ready to snatch and glue strips strategically placed, the rats escaped unscathed. Scot free. Not to be had. Instead it was helpless, tiny birds, one with its head glued down so all it could move were wide, dark, terrified eyes. Senseless euthanizing: tiny, harmless creatures unwittingly caught in a trap meant for rats. Sweet birdie, I’m so sorry. Whack. Oh sweet birdie, I. Am. So. Sorry. Thwack. I stayed in the house while my husband ushered birds to the Other Side.
I am so sorry.
Yelp, the Manly Scream
I heard him head down the hall, calling back that he was “going up.” The attic was next. He’d already checked traps in the garage. None of the spring traps had sprung, but the glue strips had mysteriously moved, nosed over by something. The attic stairs were squeaking on their hinges as the “Commercial Technician” lowered them. He had come the day before and set traps and glue strips in various locations of the attic and garage. Now he was back to check his success at trapping a rat.
There’s a noise a man makes when he’s tough enough not to scream like a girl but scared enough that he can’t completely control the reaction that lurches instinctively out of him. Continue reading “Yelp, the Manly Scream”
War of the Rats, Part 2
So I woke up in the middle of the night to the sounds of rats in the attic. They must have been busy chewing the upholstery on some old chairs as I can see in the daylight that seats are torn into, stuffing missing. My guess is they were trafficking stuffing from the chairs to a nest somewhere across the attic.You can follow the trail of droppings to get a rough idea of their route. Continue reading “War of the Rats, Part 2”
War of the Rats
Come dark, our house plays a Muzac all its own, an elevator-variety tune that’s less like Kenny G and more like the soundtrack to Tales from the Crypt. Some people hear voices, but in our house, we hear scratching. Of things that go bump in the night, we boast an uncounted population of scrawny-tailed, grey rats. Come daylight, we feature an extended family of bushy-tailed rats, otherwise known as squirrels. Daylight rats are annoying. The ones at night are downright frightening. Continue reading “War of the Rats”
Car Line Rules
Car line at my kids’ elementary school is like a slowly moving convoy of parked cars. It stalls and creeps forward on a two-lane road that widens only for a single, left turn lane. That lone turn lane happens to be where the crossing guard works his magic of shuttling distracted children safely across the street and intermittently blocking the progression of traffic. If you venture car line, which means you retrieve your child from school by car, you are both willing to exercise patience (as it takes on average 20 minutes to get through) and willing to be a part of a massive traffic blockade. Through-traffic that unwittingly chooses this wrong road at this wrong time of day gets stuck behind you. It has no clue that yours is an idle lane terminating in a slow parade of semi-parked cars swallowing up students whose age, backpacks and lunch sacks make them extremely inefficient at loading. For the through-traffic, it takes some time to figure out what’s happening, and by the time a motorist does, his only option is to use that single left turn lane as escape. No sooner has he committed to his escape route than the sentinel of the street, that safety-vested crossing guard, waves his resolute, red stop sign and blocks the car’s path to initiate yet another slow crossing of encumbered students, parents and gear. Every day I see the pattern repeat. Continue reading “Car Line Rules”
Jumping off the Vocation Cliff
Sara Zarr is an acclaimed author, three-time finalist for the Utah Book Award and recently a contributor to Image Journal’s online blog. The following post hit the internet last Wednesday and touched me in a deep-down, good place. So I pass it on to you; and though you may not struggle to push yourself out of the writer’s nest, you may (like me) need the occasional encouragement to take a leap of faith and set your mind to the small, quotidian tasks that insure your leap actually gets you off the cliff: