The Water is Wide

Penultimate Trip to Landfill with Junk. . . 

Grandpa Loves a Fixer-upper

Okay. . . I couldn't help myself. 

My boat motor. . . 

What can I say? I'm helpless. 

Watching the Loons

Lucy is back. 

That's a keeper. 

All at once we became those people who have friends over at the lake. 

It's just a tap tap tap. 

Bill is now more careful about the whole gas thing.  

And at least for one moment in time. . . she runs. 

It's almost the Titanic. 

Mama. Mama. Mama. Mama. They are almost as talkative as my children. 

I heard James Taylor's The Water is Wide this morning. I love this song. Here is a link: "The Water is Wide."  I'm not sure it goes with this blog entry--but you can listen while you read.

Thursday afternoon it occurred to me that I hadn't had a full day off--without performing or the kids performing or teaching or volunteer duties--since spring break.

When I get tired I get dark. Thursday even before the jug of blueberry kefir exploded all over my kitchen, up to the ceiling and running down the windows and all the way to the fridge and stove and my wool rug. . . even before that. . . I was hitting the wall. The darkest hour is always before dawn. The bell rang at 6:00 and as the last student left I was facing a four day weekend!

The chill swept over me almost immediately. By 9:00 p.m. my temp was 101.5. Nothing to do but crawl in bed. Who will pack for the cabin weekend? Who will figure out the food? Who will water the plants and change the cat litter and God knows what all else is on our lists.

Had I not been hit by this Mack truck. . . I would have assuredly stayed up past midnight packing and running about in a flurry of list checking off-ness. It was as if. . . my body said. . . the only way we are gonna get her to bed is to push the fever button. And it worked.

I woke up nine hours later after and as I laid in bed I asked that question we ask. . . how am I? I realized I was actually at about 70%. That will do. I can work the list at 70%.

I don't write this to prove how crazy our life is. Everyone's lives are crazy now and then. But why does it take a fever. . . or worst case scenario something worse or a sick loved one to slow us down?

Remember the sabbath day to keep it holy. It might also read--remember the sabbath to keep YOU WHOLE.

Resting is God's commandment and we suffer when we don't obey it. Guilty as charged. So--dear readers--you must rest and take care of yourself. My friend calls it "radical self care." My sister reminded me of a devotion which ends with "I must do what's mine to do." Again and again we--well many of us--get so swept up it takes a Mack truck mystery fever to shut us down.

What does it actually mean to rest? I'm not exactly sure.

So--I planted flowers at the cabin. That was restful. And Grandpa and Calvin putzed with the antique boat motor. And Bill got into his Bill zone doing his Bill things around the cabin and Mary fed the duck and wondered around singing and reading. Calvin serenaded us with hymns on the 1906 Mason and Hamlin at sunset.

And friends came over--all at once we became people who have friends who stop by. Friends never stop by at home. Why does it take driving two and half hours to have friends stop by? And we cooked and the kids played and we sat around the fire with Bill's folks and the friends brought hamburgers and marshmallows and we burnt most of the marshmallows and ate a few too. We sang songs with words we can't remember and stayed outside by the fire until the sprinkling turned to drizzle.

Monday morning at the kitchen table in the rain, l got dark again putting the dates on the Fall calendar--it's like a coloring book--and we fill it with crayons until we run out of white.

This is it isn't it? The ebb and flow. The wide water to get across. Work hard. Play hard. Rest hard. How to remember that the boat is on the way when you are almost drowning.

Six more days till the summer schedule. Teachers--hang in there. Single moms--hang in there. We are so close to fine. If you have to. . . pretend you have a 101.5 fever and go to bed. Not that I did this. I have the thermometer to prove it. Things always look better in the morning. Always.

I've been on a prayer kick. . . here is a prayer:

God of all time... 

Help me to remember my sabbath

To praise you,

but also to sustain me.

When I feel overwhelmed,

help me to remember the boat is almost here,

help us face each moment with gratitude,

for the work, for the play, and for the rest.

Be with the teachers and the homeschool teachers 

and the moms and everyone who uses too much crayon 

on their calendars. 

Help us secure our own oxygen masks again and again. 
Teach us what radical self care means. 
Without the fever part. 

Amen.