Lamposts

hope, faith, life, love

dream, joy, truth, soul

e.e.cummings, 1894 – 1962

These eight words keep popping up these days.

I see them in Emma as we plan her college visits and her hopes for the future. Dreams of tomorrow.

I see them in Abby as she faces the truth of herself, finding what it is she wants and facing down the fear of making it happen.

I see them in Mollie as her life is changing and growing, giving her new challenges and forks in the road before her. Watching as she navigates the social scene, learning the discernment process.

I see them in Lucy as she follows the yearnings of her soul that is beginning to take definite shape.

“I think I want to write,” she says to me yesterday.

“I think that is an excellent idea,” I say, a satisfied grin on my face that she cannot see because we are on the phone … me in my kitchen, her in her apartment. She is not here with me any more, but she is constantly with me. “Now is the time for you to do this. The number one thing that hampers most authors? Finishing. Just finish it and let someone else fix it.”

I have the faith that it is all for a reason … all for a purpose.

Taking the risks, facing the unknowns. We do it every day and it becomes second nature, but the fears never go away. This is what we are all being taxed with. I’m seeing it everywhere. Ironically, the only thing constant in our lives these days? Change.

New ideas. New friends. New places. New challenges.

I am trying to find, and document, joy these days. Not because I don’t think it is there or because I am joyless, but because I want it to be one of my constants. I want to see it. I want to acknowledge it. I don’t want a day without a recognition of the joy.

Joy in Mary’s face when she sees me show up at swim, just in time to see her daily cannonball challenge. It never gets old, watching them curl into a ball, determined to splash Coach Ashley, ten feet away.

Joy in Lizzie’s face when I tell her we are having pot roast for dinner (her very favorite).

Joy in the cacophony when Dad gets home.

“Dad! Dad! Dad!”

These are small things, but in our small life, they can be the lampposts that light the way.

Find your joy. Hold it close and make sure it knows you are watching for it.

Advertisements

About krob3

Wife, mom, swim taxi, singer, writer. This is what I do.
This entry was posted in Families, House and Home, Life and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s