Spring has a way of making me into a neighbor...

Indeed it does.

Spring is in full-swing here in Memphis, and I'm am really in love; I mean, really in love! We're trying to enjoy it fully, and so far, so good. Took some kid-friends to the botanic gardens plus a picnic, then the next day, Jeff and I picnic-ed at the river (the Mighty Mississippi). Then to an outdoor concert to sway and sing along with Derek Webb and Sandra McCracken, with the cheese, wine, and other picnic-ey items spread out on our blanket (are you seeing a theme here?)

Spring is good. The strawberry plant in our front flower bed has grown like crazy in 48 hours; I'm not kidding, at least half an inch, maybe more. Seriously. Seriously? Seriously.

But really, Springtime can make you into a good, or at least a better, neighbor. It's no longer dark when you get home from work, and everyone's in a better mood than in 20 degree February, and something about the way the sun sets in the Spring just makes you feel good. It makes you feel a little more alive.

Don't we all feel the little deaths of winter? The strawberry plant goes into hiding, the trees are skinny, and some days you want to lock yourself inside... so maybe you kind of die a little inside, too.

But then comes the new life. And somehow I find it inside me to step off of my safe little porch and out onto the sidewalk. Down the street and onto someone else's porch. Into a living room I'm unfamiliar with and finally leave with the hug of a sweet woman who prays for us even though she doesn't know our middle names. Maybe she doesn't even know our last names. I don't even know hers. But we're neighbors, and we know it.

Summer is coming, and in Memphis... that can [for me, at least] mean more withdrawing... from the scorching heat, the mosquitoes. So, don't let Spring get away... step off your porch, friends.

Be bound up by grace and peace!

music & lyrics: a forgiving song

something new that just came about, partly behind a desk that can leave me wishing I were outside and partly by the glow of the living lamp that I love so much...




we saunter in all broken and messed up inside
drag it up the stairs to keep it by our sides
but I'm so tired of this
so tired of talking to you about this

it's easy to name the things we did not make
good or bad or we'll just wish them all away
oh, we're good at this
a little too good at this

maybe we all need to be forgiven
maybe we all need to forgive them
we all need to be forgiven
and move on...

the walls are growing so much stronger by the day
the defenses they're growing just the same
but you look so tired to me
so tired of all of this

what would the people say if we tore it all down
and started with nothing but empty hands
most of them would just turn and walk away
they'd turn and walk away...
would that be okay?

it's time

Spring days, seed-planting, and a constant flow of "guests" (Family, really) through our home - it is indeed time for a new post. But there isn't time right now, and so hang on to your pants... I'll be back soon.

In the meantime, be bound up by Grace and Peace!

plants need nurturing... you know, like children

The Pates-GeigLines-MaddieSmith-otherswelcome Multi-Family garden has bee-gun. Yes, that's right... let the growing begin, folks. Melissa and I spent the afternoon planing lettuce, spinach, and onion bulbs (that we're not sure are going to grow). We still have many seeds to begin indoors, and I hope we rise to the challenge this year and actually grow our things from seed. Last year we had to end up buying a lot of plants that didn't take from seeds.

You can sow the seed but you can't make it grow. We can nurture it and do just we think that little baby seed needs.... yet, alas, the growing isn't up to us.

Just you wait, there will be more garden profoundness to come!

In other news, this de-distractions Lenten season is proving to be a good one. Kind to me, gentle to me. Allowing space for silence and music and mopping floors. TV goes off more, "social networking" is non-existent (well, except for this blog today - but it's Sunday!), and for all of this... I am quite thankful.

I guess I'm being nurtured as well.

memoirs on the passing life

Entry #2: The Long 3 Months

For 3 months my grandfather, Papa as we called him, fought for (or clung to) life. During that time, I wasn't around much; I stayed connected through 2nd hand information. But I really just kept waiting. Honestly, I was surprised he lived for so long. My memory of him in that hospital was burned as one where he seemed miserable, not really living. (Yet, in the past couple of days I've been taught/re-thought what it means to be living; the mind and spirit can be very alive while the body, what we measure "living" by, continually withers away.)

Living 5 hours away keeps the reality at bay. I knew he was sick; I asked for updates. But I wasn't present, and in many ways, I didn't want to be. Papa and I weren't close before, why would it matter now? That isn't fully true, that it didn't matter, but it's what ran through my head a lot of days. My family-my caring, dedicated family-was present the whole time. They tirelessly made daily visits to the hospital, and later, the nursing home. Mrs. Libby, my "adopted" grandmother," made soup and brought diet coke and read her book by his bedside.

Still he clung.

During this time, and looking back, I didn't desire to visit or to be close to the situation. This isn't my nature, to turn away from closeness, to choose to be emotionally uninvolved. In fact, it's quite the opposite of my personality. But this was quite different; it brought out something in me I've not seen before. I thought, why be connected to him then, when he's dying? And besides, we'd never had many conversations that didn't end in his telling me he wish I'd done something his way instead of mine, more or less.

So that's the waiting. Not much happened healthwise during this time, except for ups and downs in his condition, amidst the continual "down" (he would never be able to live at home again, never be free from the care of medical personnel). And I guess I waited for him to die. I didn't want him to die, yet I wanted him to be free from his misery.

Next time I'll carefully (as to not offend or disclose anything too personal) tell you what I've learned from watching my dad and aunt, his children, go through the death of their dad. It's quite different from my experience, yet it's taught me much.

Thanks for reading; may you think through your own grief, past or present, in losing those you love, and know God's grace in a very real way.

memoirs on the passing life

Entry #1, here goes something...

He had a stroke in early November, exactly 3 months before he was buried.

Hearing he was sick didn't bring to surface many emotions, initially, until I came home to visit and the serious tone in my mother's voice called out to my tears.

And seeing him in the hospital bed was even worse. How could this man, known more than most things (to me, anyway) for being a opinionated, controlling, and a bit bossy, be lying in this bed so completely vulnerable and unable to speak clearly? It's a question many ask as they watch the once strong and healthy lie in a bed, now described as sickly and immobile. And it's a disheartening sight.

But I think it was particularly difficult for me because he had never let himself be vulnerable before me, never really needed my help, my hand. But now? It was his very sustenance, the help of someone else. Completely dependent on the grace of God and the love of Family and strangers. And for 5 hours that day, I sat with him, mostly wordlessly, and tried my best to discern his needs. Do you want an ice chip? Do you want a cold washcloth on your forehead? Do you want me to just stand here and hold your hand and watch the football game with you? All of the above.

It was a meaningful day for us, to be able to care for him for the first time in my life. Odd, isn't it, how too many of us only become vulnerable when we're forced into it? That we wait until the end of life to let ourselves need someone else? I left that hospital thankful - thankful for the chance to be needed by him, for some sort of reconciliation to take place, thougth not by any means fully completed.

I drove home listening to Sara Groves' new album, "Fireflies and Songs" and crying because in some way, I'd just experienced feelings similar to what she felt when she wrote down these words:

"It took me by surprise, this old house and these old feelings
walked 'round and looked inside, familiar walls and halls and ceilings...

sad, fruitful, broken, true."
[This House]

Grace and peace be ours, those who know full well that sadness and reconciliation and brokenness and hurt can all co-exist, who hold it in our hands wondering what to do next...

the newest housemate

many of you know... we like housemates. :)

and so we have a new one, whose things are being put in order as we speak. He won't officially be sleeping here until the weekend, but his coming is evidenced by multiple ottomans/storage units, new pictures for the walls, and an impressive DVD collection... (and I mean impressive...) We're so excited to share our home with Ty, "our" meaning, all 3 of ours. It'll truly be our home, since he's bringing a lot to the family - a fantastic couch, new TV, and other items placed throughout the house. And that's what we want... things to share. :)

So, I bid you good night on this Wednesday evening, as I listen to the Wailin' Jennys, the sound of cake-making (Jeff winning over his co-workers), and the arranging of items in the room next door. Life is truly a gift... thank you, Jesus.