Give your hearts a song to sing

I spent the day before the whirlwind wedding week resting. I lay down with my book and even napped. All the packing is done and the car is loaded and ready to carry me to one of the great joys of life- watching my son marry a wonderful girl. I know it will be hectic however, and I thought it would be a good idea to catch up on some resting before I was exhausted. So I spent the day gathering a backlog of peace.

In between my proactive resting, I decided to run out and visit Comer and Evelyn in the Senior Home. I knew I wouldn't see them for at least another week and I had some photos for them of our outing to the restaurant a few weeks back. It had been the only restaurant outing they had had together in a long, long time. I had framed the photos, hoping Evelyn would look at them and remember.....

Evelyn was sleeping, so I just visited with Comer. Visiting with old folk is very restful in its own right, and in many ways more rewarding than a nap. There is nothing hurried about old people. They are often so removed from the rest of humanity, that they cherish every word you say, hanging on every little particle of small talk. Old people really believe that you are worth sitting and listening to. It may be they can do little else, but nonetheless, it is gratifying. I always feel special when I sit and talk with Comer and Evelyn.  Though Evelyn isn't doing much talking anymore.

"And when she does talk," Comer told me, "You can't understand a word she says."
He looked down.
"Is she still singing?" I asked. I hadn't seen them for two weeks between the trip to help Amy in Texas and the wedding prep.
He brightened, "Oh yes! Every word of every song!"
"Can you understand her then?"
"Yes!"
"Well then, keep her singing."
He smiled.

It was fitting that I was visiting this old couple who had remained married for 65 years, on the verge of  witnessing the marriage of the young couple starting this journey. It reminded me that despite the dire statistics and struggles of married folk, some do make it. And some make it with no words left, but with hearts still overflowing with song.

I wish you bluebirds
in the spring,
to give your heart
a song to sing.
and then a kiss
but more than this,
i wish you
love.

Isaiah 62:4-6

⁴ No longer will they call you Deserted,
   or name your land Desolate.
But you will be called Hephzibah,
   and your land Beulah;
for the LORD will take delight in you,
   and your land will be married.
⁵ As a young man marries a young woman,
   so will your Builder marry you;
as a bridegroom rejoices over his bride,
   so will your God rejoice over you.

A Moment of Rest

Ah! Home again! Finally I can put my feet up and listen to silence. No giant snakes that need fixing, no teenager that needs guiding, comforting, or molding.....at least not immediately. All that needs to be done is unloading a van that is bursting at the seams and held together with duct tape, washing and folding and putting away 10 loads of laundry, grocery shopping for the barren larder, walking the 5 extra pounds or so off of our pudgy agility dog who apparently ate well at Dog Camp this week, and planning the trip in 2 weeks to see Anders and my folks. Ah! Relaxing!

All seems well here at home, except for the smell of mold which I hope is just the dirty laundry. Oh, and also except for the disturbing fact that Honeybun ate through a crate at Dog Camp.... the second crate she has eaten at HCF Dog Camp. I hope HCF puts her in a wire crate next time. I think even HB can't eat through wire. Maybe that extra 5 pounds is consumed crate. Who knew crates were caloric?

It is like we have been away for a thousand years. The tiger lilies are all blooming in my "garden" ( for those of you who have a hard time identifying which part of my yard is garden in case you have seen our yard- it is the section where the weeds struggle to maintain hegemony with the perennial flowers that even I can't kill), the grass is a jungle, we need a new roof, and the rusty attic fans aren't working. Oh wait.... all that was true when we left a week ago except for the lilies. Drat.

Still it is good to be home, and resting, even if it is only resting in theory. I did put my feet up briefly and contemplate my toes, even the broken one. I realized it hadn't hurt in a while and took off the buddy toe wrapping. I squeezed it gently. No pain. I walked a little on it, with visions of bone splinters breaking free and shooting into my corpus collosum making communication between the two halves of my brain forever impossible. But none of that happened. It didn't hurt. I think it is healed.

I know my checklist before the trip had been all neatly checked off, but a few seconds after watching my toes take a deep sigh of relief, I already had a new checklist with bright, beckoning boxes. Oh well. Praise God I have toes that aren't broken any longer to hold me up as I dash off to my new list. But not quite yet. First I will pause and prop my feet up on the comforting memories of a week of a beloved son reaching a monumental milestone, a dear daughter delighting in friends and doing well in a major competition, and the laughter of children from all over the planet finding joy in each other..

Genesis 2:3
And God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it he rested from all the work of creating that he had done.