blue sky shining over

Month: March, 2013

transitions

“welcome to the rest of our life,” he said last week, waltzing through the door on his last day of training. “from now on, i’m only working 3 days per week. my training is done, my schooling is probably done … 5 years pursuing my dream, and now it’s your turn.”

my turn. my turn to be … something. anything. a student and the world’s best wedding photographer and a middle school choir teacher and a writer of books and a mentor to foster kids and a runner and a farmer and a lover of god and people and everything i want to be for the rest of my life.

how often do normal days become the first day of the rest of your life? defining moments dropped like a boulder into a pond, making life unnormal for a while, and then a new normal, until again a new unnormal. and the rest of your life is hard to recognize for a while, and then the grace time slowly creeps in, transforming the new rest of your life into beautiful, wise, painful normal.

when you’re six years old and you sing a lot, and your parents find the best piano teacher they can, and you shyly climb the stairs to her blue and flowered living room, welcome to the rest of your life.

when you put down the last test, essay hand aching, and creep out quietly so as not to disturb others, welcome to the rest of your life.

when it’s dark and cold and sparkling, and you watch the city lights dance on the water, balancing your way along a log with his hand supporting you, and suddenly you’re in his arms and a too-small ring is cutting off the circulation to your knuckle, welcome to the rest of your life.

when your friend holds out a check for a hundred dollars, and you say no, really, i just like taking pictures, and they say take it, you’re amazing, you deserve it, welcome to the rest of your life.

when you dip a piece of plastic into a cup of your own excrement and there are two parallel lines like towers, welcome to the rest of your life.

when the doctor standing over your 9 month swollen belly says i’m so sorry, welcome to the rest of your life.

when it’s monday morning and your adoption worker calls and there’s a baby in florida, do you want him, welcome to the rest of your life.

when god says “let there be light,” and a bright light shines on the god-shaped confusion, the finally honest chaos, welcome to the rest of your life.

when the worst thing happens and you survive, fighting to overcome and winning your self back, welcome to the rest of your life.

when the best thing happens, and it’s actually truly really¬†real, welcome to the rest of your life.

when you try and try and agonize and fume and hide and talk and plead and cry tears of blood in the middle of the night, and then you realize that you can’t control anyone’s actions except your own, welcome to the rest of your life.

when there’s no going back, the bridge is drawn up behind you and the prairie wilderness before you, the paths are many and faint, the wild wind in your hair and on your face and the rain soaking through your clothes and the sun bright and dancing on a faraway hill, welcome to the rest of your life.

alive

oh me, oh my, and oh my goodness. ashal will be 3 months old tomorrow.

what a whirlwind these months have been! for most of this time, joel has been in intensive, long houred job training, we have been music directing beauty and the beast through journey theater, and i have been scrambling to catch up while a ten pound tornado of body fluids and pure emotion tears through our lives and hearts, wreaking delightful havoc and changing the topography of our existence as if it was made of play-dough.

and then the tornado caught a cold.

i have unresponded-to emails from 3 months ago. i have unswept corners of floor from 3 months ago. i have items in the back of the refrigerator from 3 months ago. i have unfinished photo editing from 3 months ago. and i have multitudes of blog post fragments and ideas, some from 3 months ago.

most of the crazy will end within 2 weeks, and i’m more than a little scared of the inventory of emails, dirt, and dropped balls that will need to be taken. i made the mistake of attempting to go through my inbox yesterday, and after 15 minutes, spent the next hour hiding in my room and crying of overwhelmed-ness. of course, the upside will come after all the dropped balls are collected and disposed of (perhaps sent to a ballpit in the great playplace in the sky), and i can tackle each day with a fresh slate and clear conscience.

today is not that day, however, so i leave you with a cute video of ashal and penguin, taken by our dear friends who visited from china a few weeks ago.