Summer Grace

 

Last summer was weird because we didn’t actually go on vacation.

Of course we went camping.  And fishing.  And out on a boat

(about which I have really nothing positive to say other than we didn’t drown.

I’m not overly fond of boats.  But Scott and the kids like them.)

Yet last summer it seemed as though we sorta went on vacation since, in addition to all of the above we hosted a foreign exchange student from Japan, which was different and fun and interesting.

And two of my boys went to the orientation camp to meet and greet the Japanese students which was vacationish for them and through which (however pathetically) I vacationed vicariously.

None of this happened this year.

Though the summer has flown by.  Already it is August and what have we to show?

We’ve had two college students at home this summer; we’ve had home projects (including the infamous Installing Of The Hot Tub).  We’ve had record heat and the lethargy such heat produces (at least in me and our dogs).  We’ve had our share of troubles and the barest glimpse of perhaps more troubles (though we pray for answers and grace) over the horizon.

These past two months have been strangely, simultaneously swift and slow, blurring lazily past my tired eyes.

And here I stand still.

In August.

Filled with the promise (perhaps, perhaps) of a short respite, (cross your fingers, light a candle, think happy thoughts).  My calendar, my lists, bursting already with fall activities, plans, and to do’s.

One son leaving for Washington D.C. in less than three weeks, (too much to do there…).  Another wondering Is this class really the one I want?  A third obsessed with motorcycles and cars and guitars and his hair.

{I have actually written a list of what he is not to talk to me about for at least the next two weeks.

It includes all of the above.}

And Scott and I are wandering about in the Financial Realm, wondering this, reaching for that.

So drawn toward the Home/Family Culture Realm for its warm, familiar safety.  A net of memories ready to catch us up and hold us tight, free from deep waters rushing beneath, just concealing hidden terrors;  wavering, shadowy shapes.

And, just perhaps, barnacle covered treasure chests filled with gold doubloons, strings of shimmering diamonds; rubies as big and gleaming as ripe plums.

Ah but stretching a hand though the net is terrifying.  What if it’s grabbed, a hard tug, and I’m swept away into rushing waters?  Lost forevermore.

What if sharp teeth meet my outstretched fingers?  Nibbling, chomping, snapping them clean away?

What if slimy tentacles coil about my wrist.  Squeezing, squeezing till I am nothing but a dry husk; scream after empty scream.

And what if my hand stretches out and out and finds itself in warm currents.

Clear, turquoise tinted waters lifting my hand so gently, drawing my eyesjust there toward treasure unseen but waiting, waiting all along.

What if the Grace lies just beyond, and I am too fearful to reach toward it, breathing deep with all the faith and courage I’ve every moment of every day held within?

  IOSW  collage 2

 

Recent Posts by Lisa D.B. Taylor

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