Tag Archives: friendship

Day 11: Pumpkin Thoughts (31 Days of Simple Truths)

*It’s Sunday night. I’m moderately rested. A new week is on the horizon. I decided we should go with a light-hearted, carefree post tonight. Still true!*

20151010_191042The last month has been such a whirlwind that my attention to social media has been minimal. I sort of breeze through, scrolling fast for the highlights before moving on with life.

So imagine my surprise to find that pumpkin—PUMPKIN—of all things has become somewhat controversial. A minor controversy, admittedly, but enough that people felt the need to speak up that liking something doesn’t make you basic or cliche or something of the sort. Why is this a conversation that needs to happen? Why did someone feel the love of pumpkin a necessary thing to belittle someone over? What is happening???

This autumn was also the first time I was made aware that the love of pumpkin and all things autumnal is apparently a white girl thing. Again—why? What does this even mean???

I’ll admit I occasionally feel the pumpkin craze has gone too far, mainly when all the processed, packaged, fake foods in the grocery store have decided to jump on the bandwagon with artificially flavored, brightly colored, pumpkin weirdness. “I really wish there was such a thing as funky orange colored pumpkin spice Oreos!” said no one ever.

But, I digress. My main point being, I don’t have time for pumpkin controversies. The rest of the world can duke this one out. I’ll be over here, happily munching on fresh-from-the-oven pumpkin bread and spiced pumpkin raisin cookies (just made the cookies for the first time tonight – delicious!). If you love pumpkin or bread or cookies, feel free to stop by sometime, and we can share over a cup of tea. If you really love me and I really love you, you might even be able to put in a request for your favorite baked thing! If you don’t love pumpkin, that’s more for me! I see no reason why we can’t still be friends.

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Filed under 31 Days of Simple Truths, Foodie Fun

Pausing for Gratitude

The final days of January are dwindling down—a month I went into with a lot of question marks and a strange cocktail of dread, anxiety and hope. But here I am on the other side, happy to report that I survived. We all survived. (I know most of you never doubted we would, but I did.)

In marked contrast to the swirl of emotions I carried into the month, I find myself with only one overpowering everything else now: overwhelming gratitude. Deep, deep wells of thanks.

IMG1565My daughter had surgery the very first week of the year. Of course, there are so many emotions that come with something like this, but there was one I didn’t allow myself to voice in all the weeks leading up to it. I was really afraid of being alone. We were expecting to be in the hospital 2-3 days, but my husband was only going to be able to be off work one day. And every time I thought about sitting there alone, I cried. But I didn’t want to say anything because I knew we couldn’t afford for him to take any more days off work, and I didn’t feel like I had anyone else I could ask to come be with me.

On New Year’s Day, my dad mentioned to me that he was planning to be at the hospital the day of the surgery, to be there for his grand baby and in case we needed anything. And I finally had the courage to ask, to say that I was more worried about being alone the day after her surgery and if he could only come one day, could he come then? He didn’t hesitate, just said, “I’ll be there.” I could have sobbed with relief.

Truthfully, I didn’t know what to expect. Would he come for just a little bit? Would he only come one day? I didn’t know, but it was enough knowing he would come.

We ended up in the hospital a total of 3 days, and my dad was there for each one. He came in the morning, and he stayed until my husband came in the evening. One night, he stayed even longer because his granddaughter asked him to stay and watch a movie, and of course, his abuelo-heart couldn’t resist! He made sure I had coffee, and he made sure I ate. His mere presence was so indescribably calming to me. There were so many little things, little moments that might not have meant anything to anyone else, but they meant everything to me.

IMG1571He was the first one to coax a smile out of my baby girl post-surgery when he showed up with this balloon whose picture bore an uncanny resemblance to our dog.

When she wouldn’t eat, he’s the one who thought to buy some strawberries from the frozen yogurt place, and she devoured them—practically the only solid food she ate for 3 days. He helped me get her to move and get around so we could actually be released from the hospital.IMG1568

But more than anything else, he was the presence and nearness of God to me in a situation when I desperately needed my own heart to be seen. And because my Papa saw me, I knew God saw me. The intense comfort of this has lingered with me even to this moment when my eyes are blurring with tears yet again over the wonder and unconditional love of it all.

When we finally got home, I started to get overwhelmed with the thought of needing to not only take care of my recovering child, but also my son who would still be full of energy. And everyone would need to be fed. But when my mom showed up to bring my little man home, she came with bags of groceries—things to put together easy, healthy meals for a few days. She had already sent a container of soup with my dad one day, thinking ahead and making a double batch one night as she’d fixed dinner. And just like that, another burden was lifted off my shoulders.

My son can still be quite clingy to his mommy, and I was worried how the separation would affect him while we were in the hospital. But my mom and brother loved him on so much, so extravagantly, that he was more than fine—he was so secure and so seen. He came home bubbling over and amazingly prepared to be patient and gracious to his sister.

I am still in awe of the way my parents wrapped my little family in so much love. I suppose it shouldn’t be a surprise; they’ve always been pretty wonderful, and my own mama-bear heart would do anything for my own kids. But still it humbled me and touched me in a way I don’t even really have words for.

I am reminded all over again of the sustaining power of love. My parents didn’t have any power to change what we had to walk through, but they loved us through it. They saw the needs, and they did what they could do. And it did more than keep me surviving; it challenged and inspired my heart to new depths of loving people.

IMG1575If that wasn’t enough, women from my writing community—some of whom I’d never even met or interacted with much before—showered my daughter with art supplies so she could do what she loved while she went through her recovery. Daily, when she pulls these things out, she marvels that people who don’t even know her loved her enough to do this; she is also getting a glimpse of how far love can reach.

So here we are, on the other side of it all. And I am grateful that we were not alone, that love appeared in extravagant and unexpected ways. I thought I’d be trying to mostly block this month from my memory, but instead, I am tucking it away to treasure.

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Filed under Love, Motherhood, Presence

Five-Minute Friday: Visit

Image Source: FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Image Source: FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Sometimes this is all you want after a long day, week, month.

The comfort of a friend to whom you can say it all or say none of it.  Sipping tea or coffee or wine, whatever the night calls for.

The familiarity that allows a phone call saying, “Hey, mind if I drop by?”

Is there anything so sweet in the world as a visit of a trusted friend?  And yet it seems rare, hard to find, easy to lose.  Some seasons they are there, and some seasons, they’re not – at least that’s been the pattern I know.

But they are out there, scattered around the globe – Mozambique, England – and some a little closer, but not close enough, those whom I have trusted enough to lay my heart bare.

And tonight, I crave the visit, the nearness.  To laugh until we cry.  To let the tears fall into safe hands.  To speak the impossible dreams to ones who will say, “Go.  And we’ll be here all the way.”

*Linking up with Lisa-Jo Baker’s Five Minute Friday.

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Filed under Covenant Relationships, Uncategorized, Writing