Laughter And Living Joy

We're visiting Lonny's parents and we've gathered around the table. There are cookies, coffee, and there's a stack of clean, white paper for the little boys.

The grown people chat.

The boys draw.

It's quiet. We're tired. We've raked fall's leaves under the spring sun and we're spent.

"What are you drawing?" Lonny's mom asks.

Zay looks up. Too-long bangs fall over his forehead. "It's a picture," he says. "A picture of us."

Logan and Grant lean and look. Then Zay lifts his paper so we all can see.

"Here we are," he says.

He's right. There we are. It's a family portrait by a child's hand. Rugby's tail looks life a fifth leg. Our legs are sticks with flaps at the ends. Our bodies are round potatoes. We're smiling like jack-o-lanterns and have ears big as all outdoors.

Zay smiles with pride. Then, all of a sudden, he begins to laugh.

It starts as a small bubble. A hiccup of joy. Then it ripples straight through. The laughter gathers momentum, and he's giggling now. The drawing slides to the table and his hands go to his mouth. He tries to press the laughter inside but he can't and now he's holding his middle and there are tears, real tears. Lonny and his dad talk politics. His mother and I are talk, too. The big boys are on their phones. Sam and Gabe keep drawing, but soon all eyes are on Zay.

We can't help but laugh.

His laughter is like a wave that stretches far and pulls us in.

His pitch is high and the sound is sweet and we're lost in it. Nothing is funny, really, but this glee is contagious. We laugh. All of us. It feels silly at first, but then I understand.

This is joy.

So many times, so many days, I'm too busy to remember joy. In my "grown-up-ness", I think and worry and move from task to task. And then there are the burdens. The ones I carry day in and out and the battle can go long. I often carry the weight of circumstance and circumstance can crush the soul.

Yet the Lord wants us to have joy.

I'm learning, as I lean into the Lord, that while joy can't be fabricated or forced, it's possible to have joy even in the midst of a troubling circumstance. As a children, we sing "We've got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart."

Where?

Down in my heart.

Joy, the soul-settling kind, comes not from circumstance but from living in the freedom of the promised Presence of the Lord.

He's with me - no matter what.

There I'll be when troubles come. He will hide me. He will set me on a high rock out of reach of all my enemies. Then I will bring him sacrifices and sing his praises with much joy. Psalm 27:5-7 TLB

 

I understand, as my own cheeks are warm and my sides ache too, that it's not often that I cut loose and abandon all to something so precious and sweet. It feels good to laugh this hard.

I want a life filled with more laughter.

Laughter and joy.

Eventually Zay runs out of steam. My mother-in-law dabs her eyes. We mellow.. Things simmer down. Zay composes himself and takes a fresh sheet of paper. Conversation rumbles one more.

We sit up and straighten up and the moment is gone.

But something precious has happened and I'm grateful.

Laughter is a pure and simple gift.

And the joy of His Presence can be mine.

Building and Breaking - The Power of Words

Gabriel has been to a friend's and when he gets home he turns his bank upside down. Coins cascade to the carpet.

"Parker has a robot. He built it. It walks and talks. I'd love to have one, too."

Gabe is a saver, so after the coins, he probes the belly of his bank for wadded dollar bills. There are quite a few. We count his money and browse Amazon. He's close but he doesn't have quite enough.

"Extra chores?" he asks.

I can't resist a smile beaming hope and joy.

When the brown box arrives, my boy is breathless. It's Saturday, so he begins building right away. I'm thankful as I watch him. He can do things I cannot. He's persistent, and it's not long before his robot looks like a robot. A robot without legs.

And I watch him work.

Each move is carefully calculated. He reads the instruction manual. Holds the pieces. He thinks before he makes a move.

As I watch, I begin to wonder. Oh, if we would be this careful with the way we treat others. If only we would be so careful with words.

So often in family life and in true-blue living, we're comfortable and careless and words can pour forward in a hasty rush. We don't always consider carefully. We don't examine and measure and ponder where they're placed.

Words hold power. We can use them to lift others up or tear them down. Words can build or break.

One afternoon not long ago, Gabriel and I were in the grocery store. I watched an older gentleman watch us. He smiled and spoke to my boy.

"I've been noticing how you help your Mama," he said. "Keep it up. The world needs men like you. You're a fine young man."

Delight settled on Gabe's sweet face. The encouragement spoke to the center of his soul. But then just minutes later, Gabe and I were in the parking lot lifting bags to our trunk when another gentleman passed by.

"Nice parking job, lady," he growled.

I looked at my tires. It was true that I'd parked outside the lines. But his words were a violation, too. I carried the disapproval with me as we traveled home.

Oh, the power of words...

Lord, let me use words to build others. Help me remember that what we say matters.

Gabriel and his robot hang together for most of the afternoon. The robot gets his legs. Gabriel works on parts and pieces and it isn't long before the robot dances when Gabriel gives the command. Gabe smiles and his eyes shine joy because carefully placed pieces bring forth a good thing.

True of little boys and robots.

True of the power of words.

Gracious words are like  honeycomb, sweetness to the soul and health to the body. Proverbs 16:24 ESV

Taking Time for Two

Two are better than one because they have a good reward for their toil. Ecclesiastes 4:9 ESV

There was a big box of brown bananas on the kitchen counter. My son Grant had brought it home from work.

I guessed it wasn't the season for banana splits at the ice cream shop. But I didn't have time for baking. My week was jammed tight. I let the bananas sit on the counter until dinner time. Then I hefted the box to the floor.

But the next day was Saturday and I felt ambitious. I could bake just a couple of loaves, pitch the rest of the bananas, and still get to the other things I needed to do. I pulled flour and sugar from the cupboard.

"What are you doing?" Isaiah asked as he walked into the kitchen.

"Baking a loaf or two of bread."

"Great," he said. "I'd love to help."

I thought about telling him no. I didn't have much time, and the helping, the monitoring a small one while he shoveled flour from the big bin, the fishing egg shells from the batter, the extra wiping and cleaning and sweeping from the adventure....I didn't have the hours for that.

But Zay tugged the kitchen stool across the room. He perched on the seat. He grinned at a way that pulled my soul.

"Okay," I said. "We'll work together. Two loaves."

I gave Isaiah the job of mashing the bananas. He chattered while he worked. I learned about his Sunday school class. What he's planning on making the brothers for Christmas. The house that he's going to build for me when he grows up. I learned about why his favorite color is green. About his favorite song. About the stuffed otter he mended with tape because Flash ate the left ear.

In no time at all the two loaves were done.

And I didn't want to stop.

"What do you think about working through this box of bananas, Zay?" I asked.

"The whole thing?"

"The whole box."

He pushed his sleeves up. "Well let's get to work."

Isaiah and I baked like wild. He mashed. I mixed. I poured. He popped loaves from cooled-down pans. In no time at all the counters were full.

"Guess we found the bottom of the box," Isaiah said. He carted the cardboard off to make a jet plane or something of the sort.

Yes, I guess we had. But in the togetherness, in the sharing of a chore, I knew I'd found something even more sweet.

Thank you, Lord, for willing hands and a willing heart. Amen.

FAVORITE BANANA BREAD:

1 c sugar
1 1/4 c mashed bananas
1/2 c butter
2 eggs
1 3/4 c flour
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp soda
1/2 tsp salt
2 T sour cream
nuts

Heat oven to 350 degrees. Spray mini loaf pans with baking spray. Blend bananas, sour cream, butter, and eggs. Beat 2 minutes at medium speed. Lightly spoon flour into measuring cup. Level. Add flour, salt, baking powder, and soda. Beat 2 minutes medium speed. Stir in nuts. Pour into prepared pans. Bake until inserted toothpick comes out clean.

Search My Heart

Plunk!

Isaiah puts the vase on the dining room table. I look up from my computer and my soul swells.

“Look what we found for you,” he says.

Lonny and the boys had been running errands and this surprise delights me. The vase is a tall cylinder and there are tulips inside. Some petals and still closed in tight buds but some are opening and the color holds the promise of spring. Red-yellow. Colors of warmth and sunshine and good things to come. Logan brought me a similar vase of tulips a couple of years ago, and these speak to my spirit the way those did.

The tulips move my thoughts to spiritual things because these are not cut flowers. The tulips still grow from bulbs. At the bottom of the vase, there’s a small, round platform and the heart of the flowers rest here. Roots reach downward for water.
 
 What is normally covered and protected is on display. The secret place is exposed.

It’s how I want my heart to be before the Lord.

I think of David’s prayer and it seems to me to be most brave.

Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts! Psalm 139:23 ESV

Sitting there, I think about how what we present to others is often the up-right stuff. The stuff petals are made of. The good, wholesome, bright, lovely-to-look at things. But deep inside, there are other things. For me, worry. Fear. Anxiety. Places where trust is a struggle and peace wears thin.

Search my heart, O Lord!

I want to invite the Lord to into this that is buried and covered and protected. Into what is hidden from view. Into the center, the pared-back place, the at-the-core place that only He and I know of.

Lord, let your healing light, your love, mercy, strength, grace and glory shine into what’s covered and hidden. I invite you into my deepest place.

“Do you like them, Mama?” Isaiah asks.

I pull him to my lap and run my fingers through his fine, blond hair.

“I love them,” I say. “Thank you.”

I’m grateful for this gift on the table.

The love-offering that prompts a prayer.
 

Longing for Lovely (And Finding It)

He is good to everyone, and his compassion is intertwined with everything he does. Psalm 145:9 TLB

I pull a sock from a wild tangle and then root through the basket for its match. It's Sunday night and our early Monday morning piano lesson sounds sweeter if the boys have something on their feet.

I'm embarrassed to admit it, as I search and sort, but I'm soul-sad.

I've just watched the final episode of Downton Abbey.

I loved Downton for a hundred reasons. The brilliant storyline that twisted and turned. Characters so real that their plights settled on my own soul. But if I pare it all back, past Lady Mary and Tom and sweet Mr. Bates, I will miss the beauty. The clothes. The hairstyles. The bedrooms with furnishings and fireplaces and that library rich with books and extravagant things. Even the formality of period English life, etiquette and manners and tradition, brought a crisp-lovely elegance to the ordinary.

I long for lovely.

I wonder if a woman's heart is carved this way. I don't know. But sometimes lovely is hard to find when dishwashers and toilets overflow. When the children fight. When the need to vacuum is steady as breath. When real life means the real threat of wearing second day socks.

I match two red Nikes and wonder.

"What are you doing, Mama?" Isaiah asks. He wanders into our school room, steps over heaps of laundry, and sits beside me on the sofa.

"Socks," I say.

"Oh."

Isaiah presses close and we fit, like God knew we would. He leans forward, toward the basket, and begins to sort socks. He matches one pair. Then two. And when he notices that I'm still, he looks up and smiles.

And I understand that I don't have to long for lovely.

God brings lovely to the ordinary. He places an abundance of lovely straight in the center of my day.

It's rarely loud or attention-grabbing.

It's not the shining extravagant that shines of extravagant grace.

It's in the every day. The moments so small that hold His vast love.

Lovely surrounds us because the Lord is present and He promised to never leave. Because He is Creator and creation bears His love. Because He is good enough and kind enough to provide glimpses of glory that override circumstance and bring sustaining grace.

I sit beside my son, together in this task, and know that I don't have to long for lovely.

Lovely is in the Lord.

He's been here all along.

Hatching the Day - Expectant Living

 Isaiah finds me in the schoolroom checking Gabriel's math fact sheet. He stands beside me. Close.

When I look up he's smiling - so big it shines through his green eyes.

"Will you hatch this for me?" he asks.

I'm confused. Then he pushes his hands forward. He's holding a clementine, orange and round, in the nest of his small hands.

"Sure," I say. "But Zay, fruit doesn't hatch. It's peeled."

"Okay," he says. "That's fine. But I can't wait for what's inside."

I start to peel his fruit. The skin is tight and thin and comes off in ragged strips. And while I'm peeling, I think about his words. I can't wait for what's inside.

That's how I want to open each day. Expectant. Full of hope. Ready to embrace, savor, the goodness of what is to come.

I want to expect that God will bring good things. I want to see His grace in the small moments. I want to breathe in and out, knowing He's beside me, a Father of compassion and grace, loving me, guiding me, speaking to the quiet places of my heart. No matter what the circumstances are. Even in tough times. When life leaves me weary, His Presence will bring good things.

You have let me experience the joys of life and the exquisite pleasures of your own eternal presence. Psalm 16:11 TLB

Zay waits patiently until the smooth barrier is removed from his fruit. I hand it back to him and he breaks a crescent away and pops it into his mouth.

I can see that it was worth the wait.

Zay and me.

Waiting for the wonder in sweet, hatched things.


Thank you, Lord, for being with me. Thank you, in advance, for what You'll do today...Amen.

When Children Grow

He’s so small, standing on the swim block.

I’m on the bleachers, hands clenched to fists, heart hammering maybe faster than my son’s.

We’re in Chicago for a swim meet. A month ago, at a local meet, Gabriel swam the fifty meter breaststroke and made a Regional time. Since then, he's practiced his stroke and his turns and his dive from the block.

Today is the day.

And as the whistle sounds, as he springs from the platform and glides into the water, as he moves long and straight below and then breaks the surface for a breath, I marvel at this boy's growth.

When he first started swimming, he couldn’t make it the length of the pool.

The first time he dove from the block, he flew like a frog – arms and legs splayed in the air.

The growth of our children...

When I look back, the memories are sweet. I remember a toddler who slow-stepped across  hardwood, grinning toothless and reaching for my hand. I remember running alongside bikes when my sons first rode on two wheels. There was holding a babe when his neck was strong enough to lift his head, and he no longer curled into my chest. And sitting by an emergent reader as he sounded letters into words. And pressing the car keys into the hand of an eager young man.

There was pride and joy with every achievement. Soul-deep pleasure with every measure of growth.

 

 

 

Sometimes I wonder if God, my Father, feels the same.

Does He feel pride and joy when I reach for his Word and hold it as life-changing truth? When He calls me to rest and in His Presence and I do? When I hear the heartbeat of His love and I choose faith over fear? When I feel His grace and strength and I don’t try to fight on my own?  When I understand the protection and comfort of the shelter of His wings?

Spiritual growth.

Milestones.

Stretching and growing into beautiful things.

But they delight in doing everything God wants them to, and day and night are always meditating on his laws and thinking about ways to follow him more closely. They are like trees along a riverbank bearing luscious fruit each season without fail. Their leaves shall never wither, and all they do shall prosper. Psalm 1:2-3 TLB

Oh Lord, give me a holy hunger to know You...

 
Gabriel pulses through the water. Up and down. Up and down. The clock stops and he climbs from the pool and finds his coaches. There’s a hug and a fist bump for this little guy who is still wearing goggles and a cap. He’s done well.

Lonny squeezes my hand and warm tears come fast.

I’m  happy for my son.

A parent rejoices in a child's growth.