SAY YOU WAKE UP HAPPY, inwardly fizzing. Almost effervescent with quirky ideas . . .
BUT someone depends on you. What to do?
“Spend the afternoon,” author Annie Dillard says. “You can’t take it with you.”
In other words: Despite life’s erratic side winds, seek out (or create) mini oases — no matter how fleeting. Once there, bend a knee to the Creator.
Or, summon curiosity, directed by love. You could explore that languishing stack of books. Make something. Unfold a lawn chair and daydream.
“Don’t you know God enjoys giving rest to those he loves?” (Ps. 127, The Message).
STILL, can there really be daily, guilt-free reprieves?
Dreamer and I recently spent half a day in the Emergency Room, his upper body in spasms — at times, well over 300 per hour. New diagnosis: Myoclonic Jerking.
So far, no solutions.
So, there’s that.
AND YET . . . today I surge out of bed, pumped.
Dreamer says, “Go for it!”
Then he returns to bed, muscles seizing.
I pray for him, open windows, rearrange his pillows, refill the fountain. Then pray again.
No visible change. Faced with physical urgency, maybe I should stay by his side.
But no. If he needs help, he’ll ask.
WHY IS IT SO HARD sometimes to receive a blessing, tenderly blow a kiss, then ease a door closed?
Mercifully, with a few vigorous stretches, worry ebbs. Along with the need to feel needed.
Eased, energized, I tamp begonias into flowerbeds. Then a pause, to survey my container plantings.
SOMETIMES we wake up with ideas that aren’t ours. I’d forgotten, but first thing this morning I imagined my lavender topiary bedecked with dangly earrings. The notion felt wonderfully playful. Then . . . too frivolous.
BUT WAIT, when Dreamer wakes from his nap and sees it, he might enjoy my goofy delight. Shared laughter can neutralize dread.
I’ll do it!
Oops. Those earrings were tossed during the household mold purge.
NOW WHAT?
In The Geography of Memory, poet and playwright Jeanne Murray Walker quotes her priest. “Life is SHORT, and we do not have much time to gladden the hearts of those who travel with us. So be swift to love, make haste to be kind, live without fear.”
A shiver sharpens my awareness . . . an echoing, boundless chuckle, the sense of an unseen hand cupping my elbow. Then a wise, whimsical voice: “You could plant cocktail umbrellas among the boughs.” Oh, racing heart, too big for a rib cage . . . I feel buoyant, sensing God’s joyous, fun-loving benevolence.
And this: “Child, all your times are in my hands: your hearts, your hopes, your hurts.”
Someone once said the divine moment is the present moment. We can move toward what beckons, no matter how unlikely: take the topiary — dead, but still shapely — brittle arms upstretched.
What will they hold?
FRIENDS, an oasis can save your life.
Adapting on the fly — could this be an answer?
You might also enjoy Oases: Between Noels, Part II
Packing Light: 9 Ways to Reclaim Joy
Bubbles Photo by Alex Alvarez on Unsplash
Dead topiary with cocktail umbrellas and tiny light bulbs, L.K.
AND YET . . . Sounds like another version of, BUT GOD…
The divine moment is the present moment… Isaiah 43:19 comes to mind
Moments
In moments like these
I’ll Sit
Stay
See
Thank you dear Laurie
Dear Rick, What a gift to wake to your words and this scripture today—especially as our air weighs on the lungs, acrid and heavy with smoke from summer fires. A vision of “streams in the wilderness,” both literally and metaphorically, is hope’s launching pad for prayer today!
Thank you, friend.
How perfectly fun!
Thank you for letting me into your life.
Thanks for wanting in!
It’s wonderful to be connected again. <3
What an inspired idea, to perch those cocktail umbrellas in your dead tree! I love and admire that wide creative streak running through your mind! / I’m so sorry to hear about this newest challenge Dreamer and you must face: Myoclonic Jerking. I’ll add relief from this affliction to my prayers for the two of you.
Dear Nancy, your steady faith, hope, and kindness always encourage me. Thank you for enjoying the droll little tree. Thank you even more for your prayers.
May your summer richly unfold with opportunities to bless and be blessed, my friend.
Ah, Dear Laurie! Life these last two years have been too frantic/distracted for me! And I have missed reading your rich, eloquent soliloquies! We are still not settled into our new little bungalow, entirely, only partially. What a sweet gift to come across your post today. Blessings and prayers for you and Dreamer in this season or life. I love the buoyant spirit of decorating the topiary with paper parasols. I have been doing some quirky things for my own peace of mind, too. My sister, who just came over for a brief visit last month, remarked, “You have a very eclectic decorating style.” Yes, indeed. (Upside-down laughing emoji should be added here.) Sending love– Pacia
Dear Pacia, how wonderful to get this brief update. Living only “partially settled” sounds so very wearing, my friend. I pray things stabilize over the summer. You’ve weathered HUGE changes, and here you are, still effervescent, still creating, still playful as time allows. Thank you for making time amid all the current demands to catch up with us today. It delights me to think of you shaping your spaces as only you can. I will never forget my time in your home nestled beneath trees and river, the snow shoeing trail, the fabulous cabinet of natural curiosities, the meals, the decor, and conversations—a feast for all the senses. Love you!!
P.S. That emoji you mention is one I use often!
I am beginning to see Holy Spirit as companion. An interesting and interested friend. Someone to laugh with at things I find funny and madly creative—handing ideas over to me as if they are my idea. I am forced to live in the present in order to engage. Rather than feeling I am slipping away from obligations, it is a welcome sense of being loved in spite of it all.
Oh, I want to live like that too! Not escapist, but engaged, empowered, and encouraged into joy, no matter how fleeting . . .
Laurie…. I would say this is “listening on the fly….” regardless of our challenges in life, no matter they be a spouse with spasms or dementia, we all still need to learn how to lean in and listen to the Holy Spirit. How gracious God is to offer you – US -this lesson even if late(er) in life. Thank you so much for sharing it!
Oh Jody, I LOVE that phrase! It reminds me of Blake’s excellent advice about “kissing the joy as it flies.” 🙂
You always encourage me so! Thank you, friend. <3
Enjoy your writing! Praying for Bill! Say hi.
Thank you, Roger. And thank you so much for praying for Bill. I’ll pass your greetings along. 🙂
Dear Laurie, I have been where you are with a beloved husband who needs much care and a guilty feeling if I take time for myself. Wish I’d seen this back then. This is such a wise and loving post. Please keep claiming those oases! And I loved the photo! Hope Dreamer got a good hoot out of it!
Dear Judith, thank you for this affirmation, born of your own sorrows, wrenching journey, and tender hindsight. I will listen for your encouraging voice in my spirit when the next oasis beckons . . .
P.S. Yes, he enjoyed it, even helped me choose which photo to use, which doubled the fun. Following through showed me I’d made a good choice to make time to follow a kooky idea.
The bumbershoot tree now resides in my office, near my computer. Those little party parachutes lighten my mood. Makes me grin every time I walk in.