New babies are so totally unaware of the hope and joy they bear. They just exist, right there in the moment. A new little one, in this strange world of light and sound and touch, is just present. Free from knowing of the expectations that family, friends and the world will try to put on them. Free to be dependent on Mama. Open to being loved.

I’m looking forward to meeting baby Ella. I’m looking forward to spending a week helping out and spending time with her sister, Lily (not quite 2 years old). These new little lives, full of wonder, help me to remember to be full of wonder. They are a very real reminder that we must be as little children to enter the kingdom of God. And they example of how to do it.

Makes me want to shout “Alleluia!”

It also brought up my dispairing side. I found myself thinking - “OK - where’s the bad news? Life can’t be this good.” It seems I hold some deep-seated opinion that I am not worthy of having so many good things. I am not worthy. If there is joy in my life, sorrow must be lurking around the corner, ready to pounce.

I’ve been focusing on gratefulness. On accepting with joy the wonderful things that happen this week. Easier said than done. Even when I look back over the week, I see some frustration. The phone line was cut by the plumbers, and we had no phone or internet for 2 days. The work the plumbers were planning to do went awry.

Funny — looking back, those “bad things” just didn’t even register.

I am grateful. I am happy. I am thankful. And that’s a good space to live in.

In the car going over to campus, (6 of us crammed into a Forerunner that could actually handle 5), my daughter made a comment about all 3 of them now being college grads. The tears welled up in me. Tears of pride. Tears of joy. Tears of loss. You spend their childhood preparing them to grow up and leave and have their own lives. You pray over them, yell at them, hug them and cry for and with them. You wonder if they will ever grow up!

And then they do. The chicks leave the nest under the power of their own wings. And, you cry, just a few tears, once again.

God has no grandchildren. I know that they are just as much “child of God” as I am.

Just as happens over and over again, a new day is dawning. I wonder what it will bring.

My oldest child is within the 2 week window of expecting his second child. They live 8 hours away, so I don’t see them nearly as much as I would like. And although their lives changed a lot in one year with a wedding and baby and a new job in a new town, it’s about to change again.

And in the middle, my daughter and her husband are in the process of moving. They both have jobs in the new location, but they still have a house to sell (Anyone looking to buy in Northport AL?), so they split their time between locations. He’s been at his new job for several months, she for about two weeks. Constant change.

And so, it was nice to sit last night, with the graduate and his girlfriend, the daughter and son-in-law, JP and myself (and the 4 dogs that are associated with all these folks) and listen to the conversation. To eat hamburgers and beer. To watch the opening ceremonies of the Olympic games. It was so nice to hear the banter between these “children” (who are old enough to have children of their own) share and argue a bit and just be together.

It seems maybe we did something right over the past 30 years… but, really - maybe we are just blessed through no fault of our own.

And then when I got home, I walked out back. It’s so amazing after the rain. The zinnias in my neighbors yard were so bright against the bright green leaves. The sky was still a bit grey but the color of the blooms was magnificent. A world washed clean by the rain. So shiny and alive. So bright against a still dull sky.

Some days, life is like that: bright colors standing up proud against a humdrum background. Thanks God for the flowers.

I am not my personality

Just what might that mean? I’ve chewed on it for months now. And, in listening to the podcast, I suddenly had an image that made sense. I’ve got to reframe the issue in what might seem a minor way, but it is so enormous in the understanding. If I feel fear, or anger or even compassion those emotions are not me - they tell me something about my current situation.  It’s another one of those statements that has take me years to begin to comprehend.

The image that shines out is the idea that the personality (how I appear outwardly) as a sort of a cast - a temporary cast, I hope. That outward expression (personality) is in many ways a protection for those places where I am most vulnerable and most unsure. It seems that indeed, this cast is a transitional form. I’ve seen it change as I have walked this journey and come to know and trust myself more. My response to situations and people has changed.

Or so I thought — until I got a verbal “dope-slap” the other day. Yanked me right up, made me very uncomfortable, elicited a response of my own of “I don’t like you right now.” But wait – I survived, I am still here. I could look at what was said, accept it (or not), listen to how I felt, and go on. I haven’t obsessed over someone else viewing clearly the imperfect way I deal with life (in the past this sort of thing would have caused anxiety and sleepless nights).

Hmmm… maybe some of cast is ready to be removed.

Oh, but I so often, just when I think I could answer “Yes, I understand” it’s really that I don’t understand. If I’d really understood, I’m not sure I’d have gotten married, or had my first child. It would have scared me too much to go through with being baptized (I was 13) had I understood more than I did. It would have been beyond me to say “yes” if I’d had that much understanding before I stepped out and took action.

Of late, the scriptures have touched me in ways that make me understand that I just didn’t understand before. That’s kind of scary, because, if I follow the logic, then I probably don’t understand yet… or rather, I will likely come to a new understanding as I follow this walk. I’m beginning to appreciate that all I can understand is that a “Yes” means only that I understand that what comes next will work to good without any real comprehension of what might be required of me.

And so, I sat this morning and wondered just what those disciples thought they understood. And, what did they think later when they reflected on the choice they made?

This week has been one of those where I would like have crossed up the wheat and the weeds in my life. In the moment of being the object of someone’s fury, I would have pulled that sucker out as a weed for sure. Bad. Bad. Bad. But, at the same time I learned some very positive things about myself.

Or, someone close to me who had to confess to a mess he’d made and finally get brave enough to say “I need your help.” A young man trying to grow up and having to swallow his pride. How do you pull out the weeds without also dislodging the wheat?

And so, I’ll accept that the sun shines and the rain falls on both wheat and weeds. Until they mature, you really can’t tell enough to sort them correctly. Once things mature, the whole picture becomes more clear. What seemed to be a bitter weed has produced the most amazing kernel of wheat.

free those who conceal their hearts in falsehood and betray the trust of others…

That slammed me. I do keep many things closed in. I hide myself and my heart so often. Sometimes out of embarrassment; sometimes out of fear that were it known what I really felt that others would be hurt more than by my concealment.

There are times when I’m not sure of the way out of this — part of me says - “Go for it! Get it out and let it be known” and part of me says “It’s wrong, the way you feel, so heal it internally, and don’t hurt anyone else.” I’m still struggling with it. Ouch!

Today I have no answers — just a lot more questions.

Now, just where did that jumble of thoughts come from? A few weeks ago, my niece got married. A season of joy and excitement. Family was be in town for the event. It was a lovely celebration at a lovely place. As I said - joy, happiness, looking forward.

At the same time, there were so many situations that felt like the wheels were falling off. One segment of the family didn’t make it because of illness and oral surgery. Another friend’s 15 year old son started intensive chemotherapy. Another friend had to go in for a transfusion - again. A season of distress, of uncertainty, of prayer.

All at the same time. Just as it always has been. In the midst of the pain and uncertainty there appears joy and hope. In the midst of joyful celebration, there will be upsets.

Sunday’s gospel included the parable of the farmer who sowed good seed. In the dark, the evil one sowed weeds. The farmer said not to go in and weed, because it was too difficult to be sure which were weeds and which plants were wheat until it came time for the harvest. Ah! That’s life everyday — wheat and weeds and it’s not always clear which is which.

It’s a relief, at least, that I don’t have to sort it out right now. It always happens that I would have gotten it wrong. How many times do I look back and realize that what seems so sad and wrong was the very thing that was required for later joy and hope? I’ll just have to leave the judgement about these things in the hands of the Lord.

Thank goodness!