Outside My Door

In 2006, I went on the road with my husband. This is what I saw outside my door one September day:

Diesel motors thrum. Idling trucks remind me of a rumbling train. The September sun radiates off the pavement. Hungry drivers fuel first and then eat lunch on the run. Some walk their dogs, their full time companions, on the strip of green alongside the busy highway. Some wait, not so patiently, for dispatch to send the details for the next load. In the middle of the grassy strip I see a granite boulder and a few green shrubs surrounded by weathered mulch. I watch the clock tick the minutes away. Across the street, tree leaves flutter only slightly in the still Wyoming air.

Brothers

Children in a family are, more often than not, different from each other. They may share physical attributes and many common qualities but still differ in looks, habits, style and personality.

My two sons for example: Jason, the older, has dark hair and eyes, is an analyzer and is always asking why. He enjoys sports and talking on the phone. He was a demanding, strong-willed child.
Steve, the younger, has blond hair and blue eyes. He loves animals, is artistic, is a cowboy and has always been quieter and more compliant.

They both have always had lots of friends and enjoyed the social aspect of school and work. Neither wants church to be just a social club, but a place to worship, learn and serve.

Jason married right out of high school. Steve waited 10 years to marry. Both take family responsibilities seriously and strive to be the leader in their relationships.

I love them both. Each is very much like their dad, very much like his brother and yet each one is entirely himself; a man of his own.

Sydney's Birthday

Today we celebrate the birthday of my youngest grand-daughter. We ate pizza and Funfetti cake. We watched "Baby Mama" and laughed out loud as we watched. Mostly, we enjoyed the time together.

It's funny how we percieve time. It feels as though her parents just brought her home from the hospital. We oohed & aahed over her perfection. We watched her sleep and we smiled. We prayed over her and for ourselves. We thanked God for her and asked to be wise teachers to her.

As she matures, we still pray to be wise for her. We watch her grow and worry and applaud. Grand-children are a delight and a joy. And a huge responsibility.

I pray I am the grand-mother she deserves. I must be or God would not have brought us together.

On Reading

I have loved reading as long as I can remember. Books have always been a part of my life. A good book brings escape from problems in my life. I can never be bored as long as I have access to books.

Opening a new book introduces me to new people and places. My imagination wraps around the words. I learn of possibilities. I see that families are intact and functional, daddies love their daughters, God cares for man, friends can last a lifetime, homes can be built, roots put down, jobs can have meaning and marriages are full of love and caring. Or a different set of words can show all the horrors of war and poverty and how truly awful humans can become.

Books present knowledge: science, history, instruction. How can one not love to read? When I'm in a hurry magazines are a quick read, filling moments of waiting or providing useful information. A devotional book can open my eyes to a different aspect of God's truth and give me hope.

I love the feel of books. I love the weight of them in my hand, the smooth covers and the crisp pages. I love the sight of print on paper. The soft white pages and black letters contrast to bring words to fire my imagination.

I love reading letters from family and friends. Seeing my name on an envelope then quickly glancing to the return address brings a smile to lips and heart. I love to open an envelope and pull a card or letter from inside. I love to see what someone has chosen to share. Cards show they thought of me and a written message from their heart to mine gives me joy. I love to read of distant events and news from family.

Words and images linger far longer than spoken words. Written down, I can go back and revisit the pages again and again. I can relive the moments more than once. Memories fade; the written word endures.

I love reading for all the ways it gives me pleasure and brings me joy.