And it is glorious. And it breaks my heart.
He is both big and little all once.
Grown and childish.
Man and boy.
Exuberant and melancholy.
Brilliant and distracted.
I love him so, so, much, and I pray that I do right by him everyday.
To be the kind of mother he needs - not necessarily the kind he always wants.
I'm sorry things have been a little sparse around here.
There is a lot going on.
There is a book proposal in the works.
There is a new roof being considered.
Other changes down the road are a daily topic of conversation.
There is a house full of people I love who keep making laundry and dirty dishes.
But mostly, what is keeping me occupied is that my paternal grandfather is very sick, and may not be with us much longer.
There are lots of hospital visits to see him, and other visits to sit with my grandmother confined to another bed across town.
There is a lot of sitting, and being, with spurts of preparing for what lies ahead.
Between these visits we took a little trip to the pumpkin patch.
We have celebrated Spec's birthday.
We have roasted marshmallows around a fire with good friends.
The contrast between life ending and life continuing is stark, and bright, and so up close that sometimes I cannot see anything else.
This week, I was sent the following words from our wonderful deacon, Joanna. Praying these words -be it morning or night - has helped so very much, because as each day rises, there is no way for me to know lies ahead. Endings and beginnings and carrying on as always, all together in bright, stark contrast to each other.
In the Morning
This is another day, O Lord. I know not what it will bring
forth, but make me ready, Lord, for whatever it may be. If I
am to stand up, help me to stand bravely. If I am to sit still,
help me to sit quietly. If I am to lie low, help me to do it
patiently. And if I am to do nothing, let me do it gallantly.
Make these words more than words, and give me the Spirit
of Jesus. Amen.
-The Common Book of Prayer