Sometimes my muscles fail me.

Sometimes strong emotions make me stumble. I was just clearing up stuff, and ran across a bunch of hand-made "Get well" cards that Ani's classmates made for her when she had her hip surgery. My knees buckled and had to catch myself as I felt all the emotion and affection that the kids had shown to Ani.

Joy replacing sorrow?

There was an article a couple of days ago by one of the pastors at our church. He and his wife had lost their adult son. He went on to say that slowly by slowly Joy replaced Sorrow. I'm not sure I agree with that fully. I believe that Joy can _overcome_ or be stronger than Sorrow, but as imperfect beings, I think that Sorrow will always be here with us. I am still sad about Nate. I am still sad about Ani's injuries. I am happy about where Nate is, and that no matter what, Ani will be perfect in heaven, and she and I (and Christy and hopefully Micah) will dance with Nate in praise of God. Though my sorrow is still there, I laugh in pure Joy with Micah and Ani, and the beauty of this world. In a way, it's probably a lot like how we should treat forgiveness. We should strive to a place where God's love and forgiveness through Jesus should overcome and be stronger than our guilt or shame. Certainly we should remember our mistakes and learn from them to not repeat them, but they are part of us. Though guilt and sorrow are part of me, they do not define me.

I'm OK with being sad in the car when I'm alone, because I know where Nate is and where I'm going.
I'm OK with laughing loudly.
I'm OK with getting lost in my singing to Ani.
I'm OK with forgetting about my missteps when I'm playing with Micah.

At this point, my Joy overwhelms my sorrow most of the time. But my sorrow still jumps out and surprises me sometimes.

Dump the icky, strive for the beauty.

Grace is such a difficult concept to receive. As a parent, I understand giving it, but have difficulty receiving it. A recent sermon points me to think that we aren't supposed to wallow in our guilt over things we've done (or are _going_ to do), but to seek God's grace and strive to give the same to our world. I've also been feeling guilty about not practicing my violin since July.

My teacher took the summer off, and I guess that I did too. I had certainly been improving, but maybe not at the rate I wanted? Maybe I expected too much, being a guitarist already, anyway I felt guilty at not practicing more. You can imagine how guilty I felt over not practicing all summer. It's weird, I feel good playing the violin, but there's this resistance I feel. Anyway, I finally confessed to my teacher, and while not saying it, hinted that stopping might be a possibility. Maybe I didn't even realize that I might have been implying that, but my teacher did. She stressed (pun intended) that the violin can be source of peace. I agree. Also, she told me that she thought I had a talent, and actually had shown impressive progress after having just started it in May. All of this kinda melted away the guilt and weight I had. Now I want to play again. She told me that we could structure my lessons to require less outside practice (Micah and Ani wear me out and I just crash at night).

This was just a incredible show of grace. She's certainly not getting rich off of the lessons (they are really quite cheap), she really has a passion for teaching.

So, I don't need to fixate on the ugliness of my mistakes in life, or some of the "ugly sounds" from my violin. I just need to keep going forward.

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Sadness and shadows

There is a place of sadness and shadows in my heart, in my soul.
When I look into it, it feels cramped and dank.
There are forgotten things scattered on the floor, things lost and mourned.
Though cramped, this place seems infinite, accepting everything thrown into it.
There’s a one way door, with a window.
I observe what’s in there, but I can’t get things back.
Into this place spills my unheard “I love you, Nate”.
My heart bursts with this phrase, unable to give it to my son.
With him gone, my un-shown love is pulled into the shadows, lost on the floor.
And my heart goes on filling with my love for my son.

Ani, I am still with you.

Ani, though you've only been at camp 2 days, it's felt like years.
I am with you right now.
I still whisper my daily prayer to you as I pass your empty room these mornings.
You are with me right now.
I try to sense in the empty space, what can I do to serve you, to comfort you, to strengthen you.
I see you through the eyes of my heart.
I have pledged you to God, I have pledged myself to God, I have asked God for the job of caring for you.
I wait to hear your words to release me.
I want so very much to pay back my failure to protect you 5 years ago.

Ani at camp

My dear daughter, you are at camp and I am almost beside myself because I feel so out of place. I’m not serving you, nobody in your family is serving you, and though I trust those around you, they’re not your family. The conflict within me between “she needs to have her own experiences without me” and the “I need to serve her” is difficult. The camp called and she is uncomfortable and did not sleep well. Is she homesick? Is it actual pain? This was not the call I wanted. The only call I wanted was after a few days to be told that she’s having a blast. Well, she’s a complicated child, and I talked with the consoler and gave her some advice, and now Ani is calm and comfortable. I hope she naps and gets back some sleep. I feel so guilty for leaving town while she is at camp, but I think things will go better as they “learn Ani”.

How did Micah get like Ani?

Christy was telling that Micah was doing a sing-song sort of prayer the other night.
Kinda looking up with his eyes half-closed, fluttering, with this "over-emotive" sort of look on his face.
Singing: "Iiiiii loooooovvvveeee myyyyyy familyyyyyyyyyyy", waving his arms dramatically.

I can close my eyes, and perfectly picture Ani behaving EXACTLY this way. Micah has started to sing (better than Ani), and is very interested in the instruments that Christy and I play. We have this "March around the house" game we play, but before we start marching, Micah makes us all get instruments (percussion). It's so cool that he considers holding an instrument just a natural part of expressing yourself. I am so excited to watch him grow. He has such emotional depth, and so much to say.