Antsy

Jonathan, Melanie, Jason and me... we've got ants-in-the-pants-itis.  Jonathan moved from North Carolina at almost exactly age one.  He doesn't know what's coming really. Melanie was in three homes before she came to us, so maybe we can expect her to adapt more quickly... or less?  Only God knows.  I'm trying to get mentally and spiritually prepared to deal gently and lovingly with their fears and their preschool interpretation and perception of the whole moving thing.

I am pinterest-ing like a mad woman.  In almost eleven years of marriage we will be buying a house that we can make into OUR HOME.  We don't have to worry about what sells, or taking good care of government property and tax-payer dollars, or getting our whole deposit back on a rental property.  This place will be OURS!!!  We can have built-in bookshelves everywhere if we want.  We can have a real garden. We can have goats! (Probably not - but funny to think we'll have the freedom to build a bunny hutch or a chicken coop out back. :o)). We can build reading nooks and sand boxes and jungle gyms for the kids.  We can put bird feeders everywhere and plant daffodil bulbs all over the place!  We can hang laundry on a line. We have been very blessed with precious folks willing to fulfill our requests here on base, but it will be so much fun to simply have a preference and not consider anyone else in the decision-making.

The anticipation is so exciting and overwhelming.  However, I keep hearing "Whoa Nelly!" in the back of my head.  We still have approximately three months to enjoy HERE.  That means a season of S. Texas wildflowers (possibly my favorite thing ever), at least one visit to Sea World to make, many trips to the creek and kid-friendly hiking trail at Cibolo Nature Center, the zoo and the missions, perhaps at least one more full perimeter run on base, and the return of the summer birds (We're already seeing Kestrels and Vermillion Flycatchers and it's not even March!).

We have been so blessed to live here. There are so many fantastic things about living in a place where the sun shines and it's warm 90% of the year. 

I won't lie. It's been bad in ways I don't even want to think about anymore. But it's been SO GOOD too. All of Jonathan's toddler/preschool years were spent here in this darling little stone house on the hill.  Our daughter came to us! We have made some precious friends that we'll never forget. Some really important decisions were made within these stone walls. We've lived relatively close to family and forged stronger bonds as a result. I ran my first (and hopefully not my last) half-marathon in downtown San Antonio after training in these brutal but beautiful hills. I got the opportunity to teach four precious piano students here.

More than anything, we've had to grow up here, and I'm thankful for that.  This has definitely been a season of growth spurts for me. I've been forced to grow a much thicker skin, set my sights on things way outside my comfort zone and forge ahead regardless. The "regardless" has sometimes seemed insurmountable, and in hindsight I see the reasons why. As a family we're learning to ignore the shiny, sometimes seemingly innocent things that distract us from long-term goals while calmly and resolutely (still working on that one) dealing with each obstacle that falls in the way. There have been a lot of obstacles too, but I'm clinging to this one, gigantic promise.

"No weapon formed against me shall prosper." ~Isaiah 54:17

So with that in mind...

Look at this kid!

No Training Wheels For This Boy!

This is our chosen social media, so I'll be working hard to keep this up to date with current pictures of the kids and family current events.  You can subscribe via email to the right and have it delivered directly there.  I promise to keep the philosophizing to a minimum and pictures to a maximum in future posts.

Sleep Softly

It turned cold again today.  It was hard to get up.  The early morning sun was dimmed by a veil of wispy cirrus clouds high in the atmosphere.  An almost-full moon hung just above the western horizon.  All a little off and edgy and weary, we mumbled through breakfast and stumbled into the day.  

My eyes blurred almost as soon as I answered the phone.  "Mommy - what's wrong?" whispered the child from the other corner of the kitchen.  Silent prayers and wishes filled to the top, and I overflowed in tears.  

I didn't know this man all that well.  Maybe prayers connect people in incomprehensible ways.  Maybe this is all wrong - but maybe, just maybe, we can know some people pretty well through an undeniable kindness shining out from behind their eyes.  

It wasn't all that easy to draw many words from him.  You might not know him that way unless you'd known him over a span of many years. I did not. But if you were given the opportunity to see the violets, kept, not only alive, but beautiful, you might have had a little glimpse into the soul.  

Violets are difficult.  Finicky.  Even in the hardiest species, one misplaced drop of water on a leaf will cause it to wither and rot.  They need special soil, and they need it fairly often.  Violets must sit in a somewhat precise angle of light to thrive.  Jeff's violets were stunning. 

What is it about these quiet, gruff, guarded men - guarding something they hope to keep secret? A few of us may be on to these tender, kind, sometimes fragile hearts.  Maybe it's just because we know a few things about violets and we've lived long enough to know a little about fragility.  And we know that it takes a special kind of person to take on difficulty and fragility and to also possess the magic to make something beautiful of it.

I'm sure there's a lot more to Jeff.  I'm so glad I am honored to know, however little, the big, gruff, guarded guy, always in the black t-shirt.  And I'm so glad he shared his violets with me.

Sleep softly, kind friend.