There have been a few occasions lately when I have been hesitant to verbalize my thoughts about God’s faithfulness with friends who are struggling.
I wholeheartedly believe that remembering God’s sovereignty and trustworthiness can encourage us in even the darkest of situations. And yet I’ve hesitated because I don’t want my expression of truth to sound like a cliché, especially to someone who is hurting.
One reality of living close to my aging parents is that my teenage daughters are having to process things that I never even thought about at their age.
It’s one thing for me—a 47-year-old woman who has been struggling to navigate this life of faith for decades—to juggle all the emotional and logistical balls that accompany Alzheimer’s disease and long-term care and recovery from strokes and possible hip replacement surgery and my dad living alone and whatever else the next phone call might bring.
A few weeks ago, what we thought was going to be an enjoyable evening of watching our daughter participate in her first full-length cross-country race turned into us helping her leave the race venue after a painful, season-ending injury.
Thanks to a badly dislocated knee, Lilly’s schedule looks very different now than it did a few minutes before the race. Instead of running many miles every day with her teammates, she’s doing physical therapy over lunch and getting her knee iced after school.
A lot can happen in four years.
Four years ago, my teenage daughters were 12 and eight. I was still struggling to figure out how to function best in my earlier-than-normal post-menopausal life. My mom was taking care of my dad more than he was taking care of her.
One of the fun things about being a parent of a newly independent driver is getting texts like this in the morning: “Got to school, almost ran over a girl who wasn’t watching where she was going but we both lived. (laughing/crying emoji, praise-hands emoji)”
I know. This is how they learn.
Driving alone, near-misses, maybe even some actual bumps and scrapes here and there. Eventually—hopefully—defensive driving becomes second nature.
The transition from summer to fall seems to take an awfully long time around here. The kids go back to school in mid August, which totally makes it seem like the new season is upon us. But then the thermometer keeps climbing back up over 90 with a frustrating degree of regularity, which makes it seem like summer is never going to end.
(Can you guess which one of the four seasons is not my favorite?)
Even though it officially won’t be fall for another couple of weeks, it is time for my quarterly list of seasonal learnings. So here we go:
• Sometimes, you just have to pack up and go to Iowa. (Or wherever it is that refreshes your spirit and rejuvenates your soul.)
As I shared here and here, before, the girls and I have been trekking north to visit my college roommate Rachel and her family every summer for several years. This year, Lilly’s first real job promised to keep her very busy and I wasn’t sure if our annual trip to the farm was going to happen.
Rachel understood when I emailed her about this disappointing possibility, but she also added this: “I know you personally need the rest and relaxation of Iowa, so I hope we can get it on the schedule.”
Even so, as the summer wore on, I pretty much resigned myself to not going. Then, happily, a hole opened in our calendar that looked a lot like Iowa.
We spent the early part of August in the Hawkeye State, first among the cornfields at Rachel’s farm and then at my younger sister’s historic home about an hour from Des Moines.
Turns out, Rachel was right. I did need the rest and relaxation of Iowa, much more than I previously realized.
• Beauty really is in the eye of the beholder.
Due to the extreme heat and lack of rain we experienced in June and July, my flowerbeds have really struggled this summer. Perennials that normally grow so much they have to be cut back at least once or twice have sort of just languished, and some have even died out completely.
I walk around the perimeter of my yard and can’t help but feel a bit discouraged. Where I would normally see bushy plants, I see stunted growth. Where there would normally be plants overlapping and growing into each other, I see a lot more mulch-covered ground.
And yet, when I share my feelings with Randy, his answer surprises me.
“Your gardens have never looked better,” he says.
And though I can’t see it, I know he means it.
• If your word for the year is bold, there’s really no way you can justify buying boring frames when you get your first pair of bifocals.
I know—I packed a whole lot of information into that sentence. I’ll let you sort it all out, read between the lines, whatever you want. I will post a picture, though. Not everyone goes for bling on their eyewear, but I think my new frames are pretty awesome.
• Hummingbirds are nature’s tiny joy machines.
We have a feeder on our back deck, right where we can see it from our dining room table. When we first put it out—following the first hummingbird sighting we’ve had in several years—we couldn’t wait for our first little visitor to appear.
It’s been several weeks, and the fascination still hasn’t worn off. Whenever one of us catches a glimpse of fluttering wings in our peripheral vision, conversation around the table stops for a minute and we just sit there and watch nature unfold.
• When people inspire us, we need to tell them.
Last week, Lilly ran her first cross-country race. It was hot and she was nervous. But she finished strong and improved her time over her earlier runs.
I was proud of her because I’m her mom and I’ve always loved to watch her run, but also because running two miles in front of an audience is not something I could ever do.
The next morning on the treadmill, I got to the point where I just wanted to quit. I had been sick earlier in the week and missed a few days of exercise, which always sets me back.
But every time I thought about stopping before my time goal, I thought of Lilly running her race. If she can run for two miles, surely I can run for two more minutes, I instructed myself.
So I kept going. Afterwards, I told her. “You inspired me to keep going, even though I really wanted to stop,” I said.
Seeing her face light up when she heard my words made me realize yet again the power of encouragement. It really is a gift that never stops giving.
There’s my list. Now what did you learn this summer?
♥ Lois
When people inspire us, we need to tell them. Share on XP.S. I’m linking up this week with Emily Freeman, Let’s Have Coffee, Purposeful Faith, #TellHisStory, Faith on Fire, Faith ‘n Friends and Grace & Truth.