Sunday, October 2, 2011

Storm





"What sort of things was I saying when I was so mad this week?" I ask Craig.

He settles into the sunroom's brown recliner, heaves shoulders back, reclines, "That is a good question."

"You don't remember?"

He shakes his head.

"Huh."

And so it is. Amid slammed doors and crossed arms, stomping feet and furrowed brow, one image persists: Jack's voice heralded from the kitchen table.






In the building volcano of that morning, I staccato over hardwood floors, punctuate out irritation to pierce mountains.

And from the table he calls. "Momma, Momma," he calls, "I drew a picture for you. Did you know I drew a picture?" He calls, a trifling chirp in the back of my mind. "Momma, I drew a picture of Jesus dying on the cross for you."

The morning sways, a ship at sea. A sideways glance, Jack's drawing: all pencil scrawled, but little crayon-drops of blood on Jesus' hands and feet, his head. In small degrees we finally settle, pebbles at the bottom of the ocean.

Like surf rolling in, I build apology on apology, smooth our ragged shores.

It's three days later when I remember, Jack's call, Momma, I drew a picture for you, the eye of the storm.







Gratitude:

1420. A phrase still ringing in my ears, "Well, -- really, you wouldn't be having any problem at all if you were completely unselfish." (Thank-you, dear friend!)

1421. And our children's wide eyes when I tell them these words, "She was right. She is a good friend to me. I was having a problem this morning because I was selfish."

1422. The gift of a pizza.

1423. Women friends who listen and empathize and remind me, showing respect is more important than getting what I want.






1424. How once an argument is settled Craig forgets it as soundly as God -- except for all the funny parts that we laugh over for years.

1425. How he mimics my antics, caricature complete, but never criticizes me at all.

1426. My father's words years ago, they resurface when I need them, "Men interpret respect as love." And how it's so true, great marriages hinge on unquenchable respect.

1427. A whole day out with my mom, my birthday present.

1428. How Craig says, "I just tried to make everything easy for you. I'm so glad you got to go out with your mom."

1429. New silver flats and tiny socks.

1430. Material for aprons.






1431. Jane, head bowed in prayer when I come to discipline her for disobeying.

1432. How Jack hops on one foot as he clears the table.

1433. Jack tugging at my elbow, "If you would like some of my SweetTarts I would love to give you some."

1434. Jane's prayer when we notice a broken part on the window of Daddy's truck. "Jesus, please help the robbers notice that part and change their heart and say, 'I'm not gonna break in.' Amen."

1435. Lucy's rendition, "Please help the robbers stay away, and please help them to be okay when we kill them. Amen."

1436. How Craig fixes the offending part.






1437. How Lucy tots out, a dolly wrapped in a plastic sheet. "Mom," she whispers, "I got a newborn baby." How she pats the stiff sheet, "She's got her blankie." Another pat and frown, "It's kinda dusty."

1438. How I probe to see what Jane looks for in a friend. "The fruits of the Spirit," she says.

1439. How my mom helps me to wrestle our sunroom into open spaces and small tasks.

1440. The boxes we donate to charity. And how I panic as the attendant comes to unload the car but feel light and free as I drive away.

1441. The intimacy of working side by side through exhaustion and chocolate with another person.

1442. How my mom knows what things I'll actually miss in 30 years.






1443. And learning to see through her eyes, the landscape of several paces ahead.

1444. Her trip to Africa.

1445. A birthday party, and how the gathering of family is still good, better than ever, after all these years.

1446. Reading The Help aloud with Craig, the folds of a good story, and how we laugh out loud as we read.

1447. A whole cookie sheet of roasted almonds.

1448. All the mercies of friendship and love, that catch me when I fall, a safety net.

1449. And how after a whole week of hanging on by a thread, I finally see it: apparently a very strong thread.










holy     experience

17 comments:

Brandee Shafer said...

Ah. I just love you and yours. We are all on a journey, Friend, but you write it better than any.

Melissa @ a time for everything said...

I really, really try--I do--not to read your post when it pops up on Sunday night, because I want to save it for Monday. But tonight I caved. (And I was a child who so loved the surprise that she wouldn't even dream of snooping for Christmas presents. ;)

Maybe I'll come back tomorrow and reread and be captured, convicted, and warmed all over again.

Heather said...

Oh.my.goodness.1431!

What wise words from your "dear friend", however painful to hear :)

Have a wonderful, apron-making week.

Alisa said...

We celebrated our 16th on Saturday....and it escalated into a horrible day. But Sunday brought sweet restoration and a deeper relationship. Funny....God's timing for the "going deeper". Thanks for your vulnerability. Enjoy your week.

HopeUnbroken said...

rolling, just rolling, over 1435. i just love your story. each week. but i've told you that before. precious, precious family, and what a gift to be taking time to record it. that is what this giving praise and thanks is all about, i believe. the seeing. the recognizing. all of it. even the ugly. but the beautiful--we see the glow of the Father's glory, and realize the privilege we have to witness just a bit of it. carry on--even on the days when chocolate is needed!!!
steph

amandatdodson said...

build apology on apology ... this is the language of motherhood. sigh. i say it often.

Goat said...

Not just a storm but an entire ocean of self and high tides and dropping like a rock to the bottom. And Jack, who brings you a thousand words in little drawings--Like Jesus with a word saying BE STILL. And there is peace. And Craig. Brilliant.

1435 and 1437. The world according to Lucy. LOVE. I am a hard sell on humor--but this. Hysterical. Innocence that sees no incongruity. Love.

Amy said...

Sweet Bethany, your telling of the *eye of the storm* and you boy's mercy-giving is such sweet grace to unwrap for me today. I'm so glad you shared.

I so much admire your *noticing*...your beautiful worship.

Rich blessings to you this week...may it be colorful ribbons of Joy.

Pam said...

A friend truly not afraid to tell us what we need to hear rather than what we want to hear is a treasure indeed. Loved reading your list!

Sweet Blessings,
Pam

OkieMama said...

Thank you for sharing your gratitude. While I don't know your family, I can see you're raising arrows :) Blessings to you all!

Quilting Yai Yai said...

Thank you for sharing this wonderful post and your beautiful family.
Hugs, Deborah

CDJ said...

Visiting from Ann's. Your photos are gorgeous...to match your writing. Thanks for sharing:)

thefisherlady said...

I drew a picture for you... Jesus and the cross... in the eye of the storm...
Kids have a way of bringing us closer to ...Him
Blessings Bethany
I also have a Bethany,
a Bethany Rose

Mandie Joy said...

clicked over from Ann's post. Love the way you express yourself with words. Especially this one:

1449. And how after a whole week of hanging on by a thread, I finally see it: apparently a very strong thread.

reading from Uganda,

mj

Jess said...

Beautiful words, beautiful photos. And what precious memories of your children to look back on.

Ashley Haupt said...

1420. I hope I can remember to say "thank you" next time a friend gives me an honest answer. :)

emily wierenga said...

oh b.
this made me cry. it all boils down to that, doesn't it? everything points back to the cross... love you.