this weekend...

 

 

...will be spent mugging on this sweet face.

who stayed up past midnight with his babysitter, waiting for me to return from night school.

who reminds me that this world can be simple. and beautiful. and good.

if we just let it.

what are your weekend plans? pablo and i hope they involve sleep:)

my ducks in a row

robert and i snuck away to the mountains this weekend, my sweet parents in tow. to see one of my best friends in the whole world marry a man who choked up at the mere mention of her name at the alter. to wake up early and take walks around the lake and stay up way too late drinking mcdonald's coffee at midnight. and the lake! what a beauty. i don't think i've ever seen so many ducks.

and upon seeing these waterfowl, i started thinking. and maybe it was the way the sun was hitting the middle of the water just so, or the cross sitting on the hill within eyeshot, or maybe just looking ahead of me and seeing mama and dad cross over the bridge, his arm around her shoulder because that's just where it fits, but i started thinking about getting my ducks in  a row. getting things organized and cleaned up around the house after a weekend away. getting my homework done ahead of time. getting the e-mails sent and the Bible read and the phone call returned within a reasonable hour.

the things i could accomplish if all my ducks would just line themselves up, pretty as can be.  but it's up to me to corral them. to wrangle them in line. and sometimes, like today, i'd honestly just rather let them play. let my mind wander, and my hair fall and the music sound. because ducks look nice in a row, but wouldn't you much rather see them splashing around in the water? i know i would.

a covenant for today

i've been thinking a lot about covenants lately. in my earnest and heartfelt attempt to understand, truly understand, the Bible, i've started again back at the beginning. deep in the language of genesis, there's mention of these sacred promises. to never again send rain to cover the earth. that all the land, as far as abraham could see, would be his. that his family would be fruitful enough to cover that land with babies and women and love. that sarah could have her taste of miracles, even though by any other standard than God's, she was too old for such dreams.

they were big, these covenants. huge. they were a declaration that things would be OK for you. that there would be long days of gray and heartaches, but there would also be sunshine. so much sunshine that the dove would never come back and you would forget the flood.

reading it, i rejoiced for these people. these early foragers plowing their way through life, guinea pigs of the most fantastic kind. and i, too, ached for a covenant. an assurance.

but i was reminded this morning, driving to work with my hard boiled egg and favorite song, that such a covenant does exist. it exists when i sneak a peek at pablo asleep on the pillow, his little paw tucked under his chin. or at robert, putting his folded clothes into the old dresser. it exists when i hold hands across the table with my family, like last night at mama's. and on my favorite two-second walk to the mailbox at the end of the day.

the same promises that were made to these ancient ancestors hold true for us today. the flood won't last. there will be sun. there will be redemption. there will be mercy. there will be babies. there will be life. there will be forgiveness. there will be joy.