maybe no cards this year

As I looked through a few essays written in recent  years, images of windows recurred more often than I remembered. Now, as the end of December looms and my boxes of Christmas cards lie quietly in a corner and my Christmas letter has gone through a fourth, but not final edit, I am thinking that the window for me to send Christmas cards this is closing. Yes, I know it is okay to send New Year cards and that it is still only December 28. I just wonder about the point of it all. I read the cards we received on Christmas morning without emotion. What is it about reading the events in others lives that now seems so vapid? I love these people. I would like to invite them for dinner. I want to see their children or grandchildren. We all share the same story. We are children of the same God. Maybe my windows are foggy. Maybe there is something I have put out there blocking a clear picture of my world. Well, one thing for certain is that I have put in no time thinking about myself and what I know and what I don’t know and what I want. Will sending cards and connecting greetings to addresses help clean the windows? Or will it only delay the process of cogitating?

here today and tomorrow

One of the thoughts I have about writing is that when I sit down to write , I think I should write something that is important. Something that will have lasting meaning or value. Is that what I think about what I do? I am reminded of so many hours spent in idleness. Not necessarily flipping nickels. Actually flipping nickels would have been preferable to the pursuits that often devour my time. Do I now put the same attention to how I spend my time as to what words and thoughts I choose to put to paper? No.

But if I do not put words down as readily as sifting through catalogues, watching television, or whatever; moments and days pass without definition. Mother’s past two months are blurry, much like Simon’s past 10 days. Much activity, primarily eating and sleeping, but no day that was not made by the Lord. Each day saw its own cause for rejoicing. Each day saw its own gladness.

Open my eyes. Let me see from a high place. Let me trace the path to an even place that all can see.

All moments are blessed. He makes all things good.

traveling with trust

Jesus loves the real me. Who is the real me? And what is on my mind? Here in Manhattan, little Simon is on my mind. I am blessed by the peace his parents maintain and the beauty and wonder that is that new child.

However, I am fully aware that when I am in Harpers Ferry, my mind is on my mother. And Stephen, Juliana, and Christopher. And my students. And my house. And my writing. And my health. And my husband.  And my finances.

In the presence of Jesus, I am reminded that He has all my concerns on His list.  He is a much better caretaker than I am. He would not have forgotten coffee cake or wine. But He tells me it is okay that I forgot both.

He will lead me and guide me. All I need to do is trust Him.