Thursday, August 11, 2011


I had to stop at the store on my way home to get meat for burgers on the grill. A delicious summer meal (don't care what everyone thinks - summer is not over until I go on my vacation!). I wasn't feeling too cheery today so I bought an avocado to make the meal even more delish. And while it looks perfectly pretty and smooth... it was not ripe. In fact, it was very hard and not even tasty. Drat. So I skipped my run and am listening to Sufjan on repeat. Please come quickly my vaca...

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Story Time

I've been thinking back to the summer nights when the daylight lasted forever and I tried desperately to trick my parents into letting me stay up just a bit later. Most often, it was with a million pleadings all beginning with, "tell me the story of when..." followed by some family event or milestone in my growing years.

Tell me the story of when I ate plants.

Tell me the story of when I learned to read. (Age 4 by the way... genius = me)

Tell me the story of when I was born.

And part of the reason I needed to know so much about my origins and place in the family is because for years I was completely confident that I was adopted. This theory has been blown to bits as I've aged and developed into a female version of my daddy. At the time it really seemed logical to have been picked up off the street in a Moses basket. And the other part of the reason I needed to know where I came from and how I belonged to my parents is because deep down we all just want to belong to something or to someone.

Because I remember reaching for the hand of a parent because I belonged to them and needed to stay with them so I didn't get lost.

And I can remember going to college and trying out numerous clubs and social groups trying to fit into somewhere.

And I still love to say to my husband "I'm yours" and rest knowing that we belong to each other forever even though they don't play that Jason Mraz song anymore.

I guess we can do that with God too but the stories wouldn't always be so pretty.

Tell me the story of when I denied you.

Tell me the story of when I decided my way was better.

And still, tell me the story of how I am your child and tell me about the great love you have lavished on me.

It feels good to belong.