the yellow backpack

Organization is a positive word.  It makes you think of simplicity and order and peace.

However, the act of organizing implies something very very negative (or so I’m learning).

I’ve spent all afternoon not only packing for The Wack but also trying to have a rhyme and reason for where I put every single thing (brilliant, huh).  If you know me well, you know I get on these kicks every once and a while– and rightly so– especially here at home.  Nothing gets put in drawers while in Springfield, so I often get in trouble for my room oozing out into the hall.  Disturbing, right?

Very.  This afternoon I started getting frustrated, because to have a need to organize assumes you have stuff that doesn’t logically fit into a certain place. So much effort is spent on finding the tools to get our lives in order, when in reality, it’s because we simply have too much.

I don’t have a solution, except I’m determined more than ever to not accumulate and let go of what I have with a giving spirit.  Tomorrow I’m giving away my cruiser bike.  Step one!

Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal… [and where you have to have garage sales and where things stress you out and cleaning is really just rearranging things you don't need...]

Now an about-face to contradict my anti-stuff rant:

look what 25 cents can do!  My dad picked up the old frame at a garage sale for 25 cents and painted it.  Today Walgreens happened to have free 8×10’s, and done!  more stuff, yes, but at least it’s creative and personal?

Project number next in the works:

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For the afternoon we ventured down to Big Cedar, and…

…We boated.

…Watched James wakeboard [and face plant]

Tried to visually depict how Grandmother needn’t worry about James being in the far away land of Waco. Taylor and I are there to mother [and father?] him.

And then we worked really hard at getting a cousin picture. The task used to be to keep Jonathan from blinking, but now it’s to get the Beach Boys (the-too-cool-for-pictures two on the left) to smile.

Growing up, my definition of vacation meant visiting these cousins.  Now they’re getting married, having babies, ahhhhh we’re growing up.

Again, I confess to loving my family.
And we enjoy each other
learned to love each other
make fun of each other
spend Christmas sleeping on the living room floor together [well until "someone" decided they were too old]
all because of these two:

aren’t they precious?

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amidst chaos, uncertainty, ready tears, and focus set on tomorrows, nexts, and soons, stopping and putting due focus on what is constant, steady, and unchanging was needed.  desperately needed. 

For God alone is faithful.

The stars themselves speak of His glory.
My favorite part of the day was lying under the stars by the lake with my favorite person, the Clayton Rothschild, and then seeing a shooting star showing off, dancing across the sky
[as if bright shining balls in the sky weren't impressive enough]

regardless of circumstance, stress, doctor’s report, or mood [or whatever devious distraction "Screwtape" is up to],

God is good.

Sometimes a little dance in the sky is what’s needed to get me to look down, right next beside me, and be grateful.

 Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.  James 1:17

Clayton, you are a gift
and when I see you as you are,
you lead me to worship Our Lord more.

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Looking over my past few posts, I realized that each had to do with my family.  At first I was bummed– so much for diversity and interesting content (I mean, can family really compete with the yellow backpack?)

When everyone links arms, you don’t end up with a line; you end up in a circle with everyone looking right back into the eyes everyone else.  I think that’s where my family is and probably why my posts (as does my time) follow the same mentality.

My precious grandmother has been in the hospital for several weeks.  We’re praying like crazy, determined to beat the unexplainable blood disease, and in the process, our circle is being knit a bit tighter.

Seeing my family tag-team and rally around my grandmother, taking turns having “sleep-overs” and story time, makes me know that I am loved.  I am so blessed to be part of such a team.

That is family.  That is love.

What greater thing is there for human souls than to feel that they are joined for life – to be with each other in silent unspeakable memories.  ~George Eliot

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You’re a difficult time.
The sun hasn’t peaked through the shutters yet, and you’re welcome by the alarm that does nothing short of alarm me out of my peaceful sleep.

You’re promising, but to handle you it’s best not to think; just act.

I had no idea you had so much company.
Dedicated runners galore pant their way down the street.
Cross country runners with waaaaay too much showing pride themselves in your hour.

I need a nap now that it’s 11 a.m.
but coffee with Granddaddy was well worth getting to know you, very early summer morning,  a bit more.

I want to remember his surprise even though I told him I was coming.
(I guess he knows me and my morning struggles well).

I want to remember drawing Baylor campus on a napkin with an ink-happy green pen.
I want to remember Granddaddy remembering years back on end.
I want to remember Granddaddy getting so tickled about James reading his book on chess and Robert “doing his thing” which obviously is code for watching the Cardinals.

6 a.m.  I’ll try to visit you soon.
See you.

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