Thankful

i thank You God for most this amazing
day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any--lifted from the no
of all nothing--human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

by e.e. cummings

Reciprocation

Yesterday when James was playing next to me on the couch, something kind of magical happened.

he reached his hand up on to my back

and pulled at the ends of my long hair

just the way Kirk does when I have a headache

just the way my dad did to help me to sleep as a girl

my shoulders relaxed, my head fell to the side, and I think I heard birds chirping...

he pulled my hair gently for about three strokes and then,

he grabbed a big handful and yanked with all his baby boy strength and I was thrown back into reality.

But hey, I take what I can get. :)

Little Moments

There is sound proof "baby lounge" in the back of the room our church meets in. Speaker in the corner, fan in the other corner, rocking chairs, and a one sided window create a pretty comfortable place to hang out on a sunday morning. There is normally someone nursing, someone with an overexcited baby, someone rocking their little one to sleep. It's a peaceful way to commune, whether or not conversation happens. You walk in the door and there is an understanding.

A couple months ago James and I were in said baby lounge with several other moms and babies. The musicians were playing a hymn that I cannot remember now and we could not hear the congregation loud enough to really sing along without it being a little awkward. however, one of the moms started singing, was it me? I don't remember. And the rest of the moms joined in quickly, as if to sigh together and agree with the lyric of the song. No one even sang timidly, which is why it seemed more than normal to be a sweet declaration of what we knew to be true, or what we needed to remember as truth, together. It was a really beautiful moment to witness.

Jesus, Jesus, how I trust thee, how I've proved thee o're and o're
Jesus Jesus precious Jesus, O for grace to trust thee more....

or maybe it was

I need thee, O I need thee, every hour I need thee
oh bless me now my Savior, I come to thee

I'm glad I noticed the moment when it happened and was able to breath a little deeper for a couple chorus's. I do wonder how often moments like that spring up out of nowhere and I miss them. Maybe because the room I'm in is not sound proof and distractions are not kept at bay. Or maybe I'm just not listening. Once again, in the fall, the leaves are reminding me to listen. To watch. What a treat it is to be the sole witness of a leaf falling from a tree. How many leaves must turn from green to yellow and then fall to the ground without anyone ever having witnessed it's beauty. How many songs sung together on a Sunday morning, without acknowledging the power (the necessity) of declaring truth, declaring need, together.