She brings us home

The cuteness of this little face has the power

 to melt hearts

and bring her people home.

She doesn't need to have a reason,
but a reason she gave us anyway:

Birthday #1.

[Marisa gave us another reason: This amazing cake.]

We gathered together [with a few hundred balloons]

to gift her with all the fun things we need an excuse to play with,

to watch her discover,

watch her read [she's a genius!],

to watch her play.

In essence,

to celebrate.

Her,

and just being together.

Our togetherness continued into the next day,

gathering with Grandma to show her the pictures of our little one's big day,

to prepare a scrumptious meal,

[of which even Digby approved...]

and to celebrate the other birthdays that got missed along the way.

 On my way out of town, I couldn't help but swing back to that adorable bug

and the brother and sister I get to see far too little of.

She was pretty happy about it.

[I was too.]

It was a treat of a visit, even if a quick one.

As Daniela said as I was leaving, 

'Hey! When are you coming back?'

Soon.

A love story

Meet my first true love:

As a child, the piano was my refuge, a place to be myself.

Our relationship over the years has been one of heartfelt need, hard work, emotional fulfillment, disappointment, and celebration.  The piano has brought me to places I would never have gone otherwise, has granted me experiences and taught me lessons I am grateful for.

Which is why it seems odd that I didn't have one of my own...  

...until April 27th, that is!

On that day I found myself--completely unexpectedly--playing a variety of 'for sale' pianos at our local piano store. With the wisdom and listening ear of my good friend Andrew,

 I found myself saying 'this is the one!'

And so, 

I brought him home.

(Well, ok, three burly delivery men brought him home for me...)

I named him George, in honor of all the piano students I've called George over the years.  (Don't ask me why, but piano students find it to be hilarious when their piano teacher refers to them as George...)

I've spent the past weeks getting to know this George, 

and I have to say:

He was in my heart immediately.

He is my very own; George.

All our Dirty Rags

Recently my friends and I found ourselves standing in front of a neglected shed, chock full of stuff.  The kind of stuff that no one knew what to do with; the kind of stuff that got stuffed.  To be dealt with...at a later, unidentified, date.

As part of the CityServe weekend of my church, where we cancel services and go out to 'be' the Church, these friends and I were in front of this shed, looking to serve it.  Our purpose was to clean it out, organize what could be kept, clean up and re-distribute what could be given away, and fashion new doors to close up the day.

We got down to business, 

(with only brief moments of distraction...)

and unloaded item after item.

We found some treasures,

some not so much...

We pulled it all out and placed it on the ground around us, and stood, looking.  Slightly overwhelmed.  

In the process, I couldn't help but notice:

Spiritual principles, all around.

Which was fitting, 

seeing as our serving constituted our preaching for the day.

For example, I couldn't help but think:

How often do we take the 'stuff' in our hearts and, unsure what to do with it, stuff it deep inside a dark and dirty shed?  Saved for a later, unspecified date, those items begin to mildew and mold.  They collect spider webs, spider nests, mouse poop.  The dirt gets dirtier.  Even the bees know not to stick around, building and abandoning the nests clinging to the sides of all of the boxes and bags and random items, jammed inside the darkness.  

Until one day, it's time.  And--overwhelming as it may be--when that time comes, you know it.  It's inevitable; you're standing in front of it, and it's waiting for you to make the first move.  

It's requiring of you: Deal, don't hide it, not anymore.  It's the only way.

And so, you get started.

The first thing to be done is to
box up and cart away the obvious trash.

Once that's dealt with, you can marvel at what you've found.

Items of value that have gotten lost for years may seem questionable (according to Kyra's face anyway...),

and may need some discussion to determine where they belong...

...but once decisions have been made, 

it's time to clean up what's left.

Now, the unloading may have near killed you, and the task of cleaning the remains might seem beyond what you are capable of.  

You might be tempted to just pitch it all, no questions asked.

It might be easier that way,
and easier might be all you think you want.

But then, from the pile congregating around your feet, something sticks its little nose out at you. It says, 'Hey, remember me?  I'm your history, and your history is unique to you.  It's all you've really got.  Take a chance on me, clean me up, keep me as a reminder.  Trust that even the stains are worth something.'

And so, you invest in good paper towels.
You start, bit by bit.
You begin to understand in a whole new way:

It will probably take a long time.  It will probably be disgusting.  It may very well cause you to shiver and cringe and possibly even desire to peel off all of your skin, just to get away from the nasty nasty of it.

But, at the end of the day, the rags are in the bag.  

And the bag goes in the dumpster.

Its rightful place.

With rejoicing.

There may still be times where you feel a little off-kilter, like all that stuff you cleaned up and saved is gonna go crashing to the ground, any second now.

But then, you can remember that you've learned some lessons along the way.  You can remember that with time and with love comes healing, comes strength.  Comes standing right side up.  Comes the realization that someone might make use of that stuff you stuffed out of sight.  Someone might need it, in fact, in order to really live, with abundance.

So, at the end of what may feel like forever, you give away what others can use, you put back in the shed the things that need to stay, and with the help of trusted companions, you make new doors to signify:

It's a new day.

You stand with all of the people who were there,

and you establish:

Now to Him who is able to do more than we could ever ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus, throughout all generations,

because all our dirty rags have found their rightful place.

Amen, and Amen.

East Meets West

Or, in other words, this past weekend:

Harrisburg met State College.

Yes, my Harrisburg friends took a little road trip and showed up at my State College door, just in time for me to exclaim with joy and welcome them in.

As we gathered around the table for brunch, I thought about all of the times they've gathered me around their tables.  I thought about how much I have wished over the years that I could have them in my home, and how that would have been the case if I hadn't moved away.  I thought about how grateful I was that here, at last, they were.

We ate and drank and brushed just the tip of the iceberg with all of the things we had to catch up on.

Then we lounged in the living room, 

watching the babies get to know each other.  

We sat and chatted, simply, in the knowledge that despite the fact that I haven't lived near them for nearly 5 years, these friendships remain.  

We took care of whatever needs arose,

[Nikolas: Hello?  Is this really happening right in front of my face?  I know I just ate 20 minutes ago, but still...]

until we had to face the facts: It was time to go.

[Henry: Are you serious? We just got here!]

It was a brief visit, but one that said:

Let's do this again!