“When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride.”
These words in and of themselves draw a tremendous amount of emotion this time of year. Add in a choir singing these words in four part harmony and it is absolutely mind-blowing.
We gathered around after church this morning to rehearse this hymn for Good Friday’s church service. The chorus of the hymn ran once through and we were to start in a cappella after the instrumental introduction. That first note rang out. All four voices brought forth strength and full sound. The four individual notes joined one another to make a rich, perfectly blended harmony. This is heaven to the ears. I was pleasantly shocked to hear such beauty. My heart smiled. I felt lighter. I suddenly felt the words leaving my mouth. At one point, I became choked up and couldn’t even get sound out.
This is how voice was intended to be used. To beautify God’s house. To ring out loudly. To be enjoyed by those surrounding the collage of voices. To be blended in perfect harmony.
Today yielded the perfect equation for puddle jumping joy. There was a high of 47 degrees Fahrenheit, sunshine, and a lot of snow beginning to melt.
As the day progressed, the puddles became increasingly impressive.
My daughter wakes from her afternoon nap and her first thought is, “Let’s go puddle jumping!”
“Sure, why not. The floors will need to be done anyway.” (It’s been about a month…yikes!)
Here begins our adventure. We get on our gear and head outside to where the fun awaits. She is timid at first. There are no jumps, but taps rather. She is exploring this adventure, testing it out, unsure of how this will go. As she becomes more familiar with the pools of water, once snow, her timidness turns to boldness. Suddenly I hear tremendous splashing. I look over and see that she has drops of mud on her face, her outdoor gear is now soaked, and she is wearing the biggest grin I have ever seen across her sweet face.
This will be the image etched in my mind as I get down on my hands and knees and tackle the long, over-due task of washing the floors.
Walking into the Holiday gas station is not a notable event. This is not usually something that deems worthy of words or even any further thought for that matter.
Today it does.
Would a smile kill you?!
From the moment my husband and I enter the store, to the moment we make our transaction at the counter, we were barely acknowledged.
Would a smile kill you?!
An exchange that is usually pleasant was instantly turned sour. The sole words that came out of this woman’s mouth were, “here,” spoken rather gruffly I might add. The woman’s appearance reminded me of the cigarettes she likely smoked daily. Her name might have been, “Blehck.”
As we departed from the environment that is now tainted, we stepped outside, just out of reach of “Blehck.” My husband looked and me and snarkily remarked,
“Would a smile have killed her?!”
He had good intentions. He meant well. He was trying to make the best decision for the family.
He got Direct T.V. Now.
Without asking his wife.
I have never paid for t.v. in my life. This goes against my entire belief of how t.v. should be utilized. I don’t pay for t.v. It doesn’t own me. I certainly wouldn’t succumb to the facile idealism of the rest of society.
“It’s just a 3 month trial. We’ll be splitting it with my brother so it will only be $25 tops.” Sure. Like we are going to indulge for 3 months and then say, “Nah, this is something I no longer enjoy. Let’s give it up.”
A gal can hope.
3 months, people. We have committed to 3 months.
There is no way I am telling my parents and siblings that I pay for t.v.
Sitting down to breakfast is one of my favorite events of the morning. I get to be in the same space as my husband and daughter for a few minutes in the midst of the chaotic morning business.
This morning started out like most, a grapefruit gracing my presence, along with my loves ones. I commence my experience with my grapefruit. Picking up my grapefruit spoon (what a cool invention!), I admire the perfectly round, uniquely shaped sections of the pink, fleshy fruit, glistening with juicy flavor.
As my spoon meets that perfectly pink section, I am suddenly under attack! Getting shot in the eye, my spoon falls to the floor. My hands are instantly brought to my face to aid my battle wound. Admiration of my enemy quickly turns to vengeance. “You may have won this battle, but you will surely not win the war. This is not yet over.”
My pleasant, afternoon bike ride comes to a sudden halt as I spot 3 deer sipping water from the stream. I quietly turn my bike around and pedal slowly back towards the bridge. I make sure that no sudden movements alarm the hoofed mammals. As seconds pass, they continue to lap water with their tongues. Becoming motionless, they sense an unknown presence perched from a secret lookout, and their heads raise. Our eyes meet and remain locked. I stand like a tree with hopes of not disrupting their daily routine.
Eventually they continue to drink. Perhaps as the long winter drags on, their main focus is now just to stay alive. Food. Water. A safe place to sleep.
A woman on a bicycle doesn’t seem scary at all. I hope we are able to meet again soon.
“Hey, dear. I am going to be participating in a 31-day writing challenge during the month of March,” I mention casually to my husband over coffee a few weekends ago. “Oh, this will be perfect.” My husband replies. “You can write and I can watch basketball.”
This will be perfect. I can write, while he indulges in endless games of college basketball. I will have ample time to myself for indulging in self-reflection, crafting fun, entertaining writing pieces.
He might be experiencing March Madness as a spectator, but I am actually living a March Madness.
It is maddening to have so much to say, but nothing to write. It is down-right torturous to come up with good-quality writing, when nothing is coming to me. How do I craft a piece of writing when I can’t even piece together the thoughts in my mind.
Coming up with good-quality writing is my March Madness.