Monday, February 18, 2013

Winter Jazz

 
It's EARLY Monday morning. It's dark, quiet and very still. Although I'm warm and my mind is busy, there is an awesome storm blowing, inches away from me, outside of the window. It's overwhelming. The snow and wind have stopped activity. Not even the snowplows are permitted to interfere with it's business. The shelter of my home separates me from this divine force. I'm in the middle of it, submitting to it's will. I just keep living...regardless of what is happening outside. It's chaos out there, but it doesn't have to be in here.

The chasm between the spiritual and the physical is far too obvious to me. The tug of war that the practical and the dreamy play is very distracting. Like a ping pong game dizzying my little mind. The darkness and cold of the winter months, the stealing away of vitamin D from my soul makes me think too much and I lose focus and rhythm. Dishes pile up, studying avoided and I start playing jazz. I don't even like jazz, but it seems appropriate. Beautiful instruments falling all over each other, trying to find their place. The sense of music battling noise. Even the singer is allowing the words to slop their notes into the air.

Until the magic of Spring touches the air, I will weather the jazz in my mind. Hold tight to the activity in my little home and not allow the dreams and 'druthers to distract and take over. If I miss too many beats, the song goes flat and it could be beautiful. Why waste a good song?  I will hold onto the regular tempo of school, meals, cleaning and appointments and be thankful for their tune. The storm and sick days, as pauses in the song are there for a reason. Not to depress or suppress, but to give rest and reflection, prayer and love.

Should I continue wishing I could step outside into the calm and cheery summer colors? That will only make the immoveable winter even more an enemy. My job is to hold it together, continue life INSIDE for now. Find ways to enjoy white. Ignore the off note, and continue the melody by putting one fuzzy socked foot in front of the other. Do those dishes again, fold that scented laundry, open the books and exercise the mind. Make a hearty soup, snowshoe the cob webs out of my mind when given the chance, and sing the praises of the Season Changer. He is faithful. Spring will come, but I don't want to waste a season. Take the Jazz and make it a melody.

Saturday, February 9, 2013

Historical Romance


History is such a big part of romance. I used to think that newness and the unknown were romantic, but time and the Holy Spirit and a godly husband have changed all of that. Otherwise, long term marriage would be highly unattractive...and it isn't.The memories of celebrations, overcome hardships and steps of maturity all create an atmosphere of something precious. Diamonds, tempered by pressure and time sparkle brilliantly and are stronger than most opposing forces. A very appropriate symbol for engagement rings. We need to glance at them now and then to remember how a fulfilling marriage is hewn.

Hearing an old song from your teenage years, thumbing through stored toys at Mom's house or turning the dial on a rotary phone bring back good memories and feelings that cannot be taken away and are unique to you and those you shared them with. It forms a romantic bond for the select few who shared. History cannot be changed, but it can be savored. It seems though, that we don't learn to savor until we grow older. If only the young could understand how diamonds are made.

Looking back over the years with Guy only makes me appreciate what we have more. Remembering the way we were divinely brought together, regardless of our mutual protests...starting a family with not a clue how...weathering the storms and sunny days of ministry...figuring each other out and laughing at our differences instead of screaming...watching the wrinkles and grey hairs subtly appear on each other...feeling the loyalty and bond deepen...these all merge and produce a romance that no amount of candlelight and soft music can replicate.

When he walks into a room my heart may not flutter as much anymore, but my soul gravitates to his side. I feel safe there. I feel comfortable there. I feel delighted there. It is something truly mine and mine alone. our eyes do occasionally meet through the crowd and separate conversations...and there it is...we smile...I wink...he smiles bigger...I hold back a silly tear and thank God that I finally understand what love is.

At the end of each day when we rest our heads together, the familiar whispers in the dark sharing thoughts, the warm closeness, wrap up another 24 hours in a neat and tidy package to be put away. History. Package after package a lifetime of events is stored, but the faithful effects are not. They stay and strengthen. They make a diamond.


Our first Valentines together...1989...love the shiny blue suit. I can almost hear Starship's "Nothin's Gonna Stop Us Now" in the background.


Showered with gifts.


Surprise V-day dinner for "friends" in the dorm.


Guy sent cupid to romance me in the library...brave Bob :)


History :)