nurturing hope, creativity, family
“Dad, when I was in heaven I watched a movie about a red gorilla.
No, maybe it was a dream.
Actually it was a white gorilla.
Well, the red gorilla was fighting the white gorilla.”
“What were they fighting about?”, asked Dad.
“They were fighting about the rock,” said the boy.
“Why were they fighting about the rock?” asked Dad.
“Because they had killed the rock and they both wanted to eat it for dinner.”
The end.
Saturday I drove down a street lined with trees whose golden leaves had yielded to yesterday’s breeze. Strewn on the ground, they made a golden carpet, their color enhanced by the morning rain.
We climbed the hill to the plateau on top, parked and walked to the sidelines of our soccer game. With the sounds of coaches and parents cheering children on, I took a deep breath and turned full circle. The panorama was breathtaking.
To one side, a mountain dappled with colors of copper, rust and mustard, wispy white clouds creeping down the steep slope. A crisp white church steeple completed the composition. Ahead of me another mountain rose, it’s top wearing the season’s first coat of snow.
Next came a patch of turquoise sky the shape of an hourglass, which gave way to a view of the valley stretched out before me beneath layers of gray and white clouds with a single line of blue cutting horizontally through it all. I studied the nuances in the clouds: bright white, creams, grays and a stormy deep blue all layered together in soft yet majestic pattern.
A gentle breeze brushed my hair across my face as a sudden warmth touched my shoulders, evidence of the sun’s persistent efforts to penetrate the clouds. Many miles south I saw a patch of sunlight. The lake glistened with it, and three small, thin clouds were suddenly bright enough to look as if they were the source, and not recipients, of the rays.
What a gift. I shook my head in awe and wonder at God’s use of color and light.
I am so, so grateful to be alive.
Hopeful Homemaker
My current job description between the hours of 2:30 and 7:00 p.m. each weekday can be summed up in three words:
SMILE AND DRIVE.
The driving part isn’t new, but there has been much more of it this year than in the past. The smiling part is something I’m consciously working on. When I start feeling stressed about how to make a 25 minute drive in 10 minutes so someone doesn’t end up stranded at one activity or another, I remind myself that smiling is half the job. I make myself smile at the road ahead of me, and sure enough! I feel better. It works. It’s true that forcing a genuine smile on your face can improve how you feel about life.
On a recent Thursday I took pictures of all the drop offs in an afternoon. It went something like this.
Band Rehearsal. (He looks thrilled, doesn’t he?)
Gymnastics.
Activity Days (her first one!)
Activity Days (her second to last one. I love the cheesy smile and the blue mouth) 
Insert hail storm while we drove to pick everyone up from round 1 activities so they could change clothes in the car and go directly to round 2 while things like this happen.
Gratefully, the rain stopped.
Soccer Practice.
Lacrosse.
Soccer Practice.
Around again to gather them all in and head home for dinner at the lovely hour of 8 p.m.
Like I said, it’s my season of “smile and drive.” Life is good.
Hopeful Homemaker