A Wednesday Hope

[By now, you know I've cancelled my life, and you know the reason why.  Today being Wednesday, reminisce with me.]

At some point over the past year, my darling friend Katy was put on some dietary restrictions that caused her to say:

"How the heck am I supposed to eat?"  

Cooking, you see, was not quite her thing, and a restricted diet meant: You're gonna have to cook.

So, we worked out a plan.  I would send her a recipe that fit her needs, so she could go shopping.  Then, every Wednesday, when I was done with my piano teaching, I'd get myself over to her house, where she'd have all the ingredients waiting, and we would get to cooking.  The point was: 

Let's teach you how to do this, let's take away the mystery.

Since the purpose was for her to learn to cook, and--according to her--for me to learn how to be bossy,

I'd stand around and watch her, telling her what to do.

In this way, we had some quality time,

and I got to eat, 

 pretty dang well.

Week after week, 

our meals were made of delicious, 

thanks to our combined effort.

But then, something strange started happening.

I'd arrive at her house to find she'd found her own recipe and that--without a smidgen of a word from me--

she'd made it.  Deliciously!

Then, the next thing I know, she shows up at my house

 with her very own food processor,

and a slew of fancy ingredients.

There were even rumors that one day she pulled out a frying pan when some friends were over, saying--here, I'll make dinner!

Our Katy, a new woman.

Though we might have had a few mishaps along the way,

[look very closely--what is wrong with this picture?]

my girl learned to cook, with great accomplishment.

So today, on this Wednesday that has me missing what Wednesday used to be, I'm finding some necessary dissertation hope:

When you put in the time, you see results.

Good ones.

A Friday Reminiscence

It's Friday.  

In Pre-'cancelling my life in order to graduate' days, 

Fridays often meant a visit from two of my favorite peeps:

Once a month, Emily and Quint would make their way to my abode, so that Emily and I could have some good talking, before she'd wander off for a voice lesson and Quint and I would have some quality time.

At first,

all he did was sleep,

or want to lay around.

But soon,

he was ready to play and sing and dance.
There were even a lot of sloppy kisses thrown around.

And somewhere along the way, he decided to get helpful.

 He helped me wrap my Christmas gifts, 

 practice my music,

and read about dissertation related things.

In fact,

 he was always very patient when it came to my dissertating,

even offering to fold my laundry on occasion.

And, the last time I saw him?

The boy planned my menu for the week,

 and told me not to worry--

we'll see each other again soon!

Dissertation Love

Remember how I told my friends I'd see them in May?

Canceling my life in order to graduate, I said "please extend as much grace to me as you've got", because

a) I don't have time for you  and b) Even if I see you, I will probably take advantage of you.

You see, I have found that in this season my dissertation brain does not easily allow for fluffy niceties.  It seems that any kind of filter I may have at one time possessed that might have said things like:

"Lauren--you probably should think about how to say that differently"

or even

"Lauren--maybe that's something to keep to yourself"

....is OFF.

It does not seem that dissertation brain allows for social graces.

In fact, my dissertation brain does not seem to allow for a lot of things.  Things like, oh--I don't know--turning the oven on when one is trying to make dinner?  Taking the parking ticket out of the machine when one needs it to get out of the parking garage?

Dissertation brain, in point of fact, is incredibly deceiving.  It allows me to believe with all of my heart that my cell phone has been left at home, while also allowing me to tell people I will call them on my way home anyway--only for me to arrive home in order to find that it had been in my bag the whole time.

And dissertation brain does not seem to discriminate--time of day, type of interaction...doesn't matter.  A struggle, all of it.

And yet? These friends of mine have been remarkably kind.

They have come over to my house

to make me a breakfast of champions.

They have sent food home with me if by chance they know they will run into me,

or have delivered it if they have known they won't.

There has even been an occurrence of grace by one who knows far more than most others the full reality of dissertation brain:

[Housemates, my thanks will never meet your sacrifice.  And, by the way--the coffee grinder does apparently work after all...]

And in the midst of it all, I find that it is awfully freeing--to know that one is loved, no matter one's bad behavior.

Thank you friends.  You do not know how much I need you, nor how much I appreciate you!

Now, back to it.  Where did my computer go?

[:-}]

Let us Rise, to the Occasion

And he departed from our sight

This morning, before the rising of the sun, Ginger, Sara and I rose.

We slathered cream cheese on bagels, 

and poured ourselves strong coffee.

We climbed into Ginger's Jeep.

And we went looking.

Driving through our sleepy town, the sky pink around its mountain edge with the promise of the sun, 

lost in our own thoughts,

we arrived here, looking for the sun to rise, 

to settle over us in its daily resurrection song.

But the clouds held our eyes, and all we saw was gray.

that we might return to our heart

So we sat together,

 fed ourselves;

 we talked quietly,

and watched the birds and chipmunks play.

and there find Him. 

But our looking incomplete, our hearts still lost in morning fog,  

we turned ourselves to the story of what the day is said to hold.

And there, we found Him;

we met Him in the Garden, we heard Him call our name.

For He departed, and behold, He is here.

~St. Augustine

And then we talked with Him, and listened to Him be our Sun, 

who Rose, with healing in His wings.

But for you, who revere my name, the Sun of Righteousness will rise with healing in His wings.

And then, having found Him, we went to church to celebrate, with the full worship of our hearts. With deep deep tears of knowing: He is the One we've been looking for, He is our victorious One.

Because clouds could not hold Him, and neither could death.

He, here.

And you will go out and frolic

Later, 

we arrived back at our home,

ready to revel in good company, 

over delicious food,

prepared by many hands.

like calves let out to pasture

We sat comfortably together, we ate with gratefully quiet joy.

We talked, we remembered, we laughed.

We looked for the Sun to Rise, we listened for Him to sing over us His daily Resurrection song.

like well-fed calves.
~Malachi 4:2

And then, we ate dessert.

Two desserts.

In the fullness of His Rising, on this Resurrection Day,
we rose to the Occasion.


For I am come that they may have life 
and have it to the full.
~John 10:10

All Because.

The one on the left is new; 

the one on the right--

is 80!!!!

Yesterday I took a dissertation break, 

 and drove to my aunt's in order to gather with family 

and to celebrate.

We enjoyed just being together, 

with time to make a little music,

and to get re-united.

There was even time for me to take this little guy aside,

and to tell him all about his mama, 

when she was just his size.

 [The disclosures were shocking,

but by the end we were good friends.]

And, in the midst of it all,

we did a lot of laughing,

 we did a lot of remembering,

we did a lot of celebrating,

all because of this incredible lady.

 

We love you Grandma, 

and loved having a day to celebrate you!

Surely.

Sort of like monsoon season, 

Dissertation Season is upon me in fullness.

My calendar's mapped out, every moment is accounted for.

I've told all of my friends: I'll see you in May.

This dissertation is a beast.

And I am a tender, vulnerable, terrified little lamb.

Yet, somehow, the beast is not devouring me...

...Let me tell you why.

~~~~

Earlier last week I noticed something:

When I brought home the darling on the left, it reached out its arms to me, looking for my love.

But, by the next day?

It had figured out I was not the source of its strength, nor was I likely to sustain it well.  And so, it turned its arms to the Source of all Strength, to the Sustainer of all created things.

I looked at that precious thing, reaching out for Light, 

and something inside of me called out:

Do that.  Reach out, for the One.

So, I did. 

In the deepest places of my heart, I spoke the truth of Psalm 17:

I call on you, my God, for you will answer me;
    turn your ear to me and hear my prayer.
Show me the wonders of your great love,
    you who save by your right hand
    those who take refuge in you from their foes.

And now, I am watching Him, showing me His wonders.

He is teaching me, 

leading me, showing me, helping me.

The One who provides for the birds of the air,

is providing for me.

The One who is a shelter and shade from the heat of the day, and a refuge and hiding place from the storm and the rain,

 is sheltering the tenderest, most terrified parts of me.

And He is saying:
It's time to tie together loose ends, it's time to end this Season well.

And so I can say, without fear, without doubt:

This dissertation might be a beast,

but I am feeling fierce.

Surely.

Opening my heart.

I have a bit of a history with all things green.  

The history is: They die.

For years I lived in a cycle of

|buy plant-kill plant-buy plant-kill plant|.

So, somewhere about awhile ago, I decided to gracefully bow out of the greenery scene. My heart had had enough. [Plus, I began to be afraid that some kind of green organization would come after me with allegations of abuse.]  

I carted away the remains.  I mourned.

The pots turned their backs on me and gazed longingly out of the window, at all of the greens living out their calling in flourish and fancy.

A few months went by and the pots and I got used to the silence.

But then, March happened, and March calls for new life.

So, today, in a Spring Break fit of over-confidence

I opened my heart.

I'll let you know how it goes.