To Be a Kid Again

Sometimes I just want to be a kid again.

Like today. 

I want my problems to be about things like bug bites and missing flip-flops; 

my decisions to be about creamy vs. chunky peanut butter.

I want to sit in the dirt without thinking about germs.

I don't want my clothes to match.

I want to go barefoot in the barn.

I don't want to answer the phone. 

I want night shift to mean that it's time to catch fireflies.

I want my most serious look, my most intense frown to be about what I am playing,

what I am pretending. 

I want my faith in people to be unblemished. 

I want my faith in God to be unquestioned. 

I wanted to be a kid again today. 

I wanted the grins and laughter to be easy.

I needed someone to tell me what to do, not me doing the telling.

Some days are like that.

I get tired or maybe it's just lazy.

I don't feel like working and being the smart one with a degree. 

Because I don't feel smart. 

At all. 

I think that's why I wanted to be a kid again. 

Life was simpler then.

But really, who made it complicated?

I made it complicated. 

Because really and truly…

I can go barefooted in clothes that don't match.

I can play in the dirt.

I may have bigger problems than peanut butter and flip-flops, 

but I have a God who is bigger than even the biggest dilemma I face. 

Night shift can be about catching fireflies once in awhile.

I cannot be a kid again,

but I can have the faith of a child,

unwavering, uninhibited. 

I can choose to make wiser decisions, smarter choices. 

And now, I am choosing to move ahead,

onward and upward. 

I can't go back, only forward. 

Always forward, one foot in front of the other, 

a step at a time. 

Love,

Dianne

I Corinthians 13:11

All But No. 27

As a young girl, I'd say about 10 years old or so, I was introduced to the world of another girl who I wished I could be. Every night I'd go to bed with a golden colored paperback and I would read more of her adventures, her friends, her life. Oh, to be Trixie Belden for even a day…

She was my hero; I wanted to be her. My sister, Roxie, and I would play that we were Trixie and her best friend Honey Wheeler. We even tried to build our own clubhouse back in the woods. In my mind, I could ride horse just like her. (Just in my mind though because we didn't have any horses.) To this day, when I think about riding, I think about Trixie.

For quite a few years, on every Christmas or birthday list I'd request "Trixie Belden" books. All in all, there were 34 of them and I wanted to read every single one. Over and over.

I may have been a little obsessed.

What am I saying…"may have been"? More like, "still am". You see, every time I go to a thrift store or yard sale, I scan the shelves or tables for that yellow/gold spine. I'd know it anywhere. But, for so long, I've been denied. Yes, I know I could go on ebay and find just what I want, but somehow the thrill of the hunt just isn't the same. So, I have continued my search for those last few elusive titles.

Until yesterday.

Ryan and I were looking for old songbooks at a Goodwill store. As I eyeballed the shelves I kept my radar up for that yellow spine. Then, when I was nearly done, I turned to see what Ryan was holding out to show me.

Then, my gaze went past his treasure right into a bin where, lined up in a row, underneath some scattered children's books was my prize. I felt like I was moving in slow motion as my hand reached out to push the other books aside. What if I am only dreaming? What if those really aren't what I think they are? 

But they were. I wanted to jump up and down, sing a song, dance a jig and say a toast. All at the same time.

Don't worry. I didn't.

I just gathered every last one of those books, put them on my stack and then went for a cart.
These. Books.Were. Mine. After all these years, would I finally be victorious in completing my collection?

Drum roll please.

Sigh. It's almost as good as striking gold. Can you see me smile? I even have extras to share with Adrienne who has also learned to love the books.

Except….

Sigh. I am now the owner of the Trixie Belden series, all except Number 27, "The Mystery of the Ghostly Galleon".

I guess I'll just have to continue my search. Besides, I kinda feel like Trixie looking for clues as I search. I may even stumble across an unsolved mystery. And catch the bad guy. While riding a horse.

Love,
Dianne

Just a Few More Minutes

I was completely jolted out of my sleep today with the rumble of thunder that rattled the windows in my farmhouse, and trailed off in an angry growl that made me want to hide under the covers.  A thunderstorm of grand, if not epic, proportions was demanding my attention.

It worked, for a little while. But then, the need for sleep spoke volumes louder in it's silence than that last clap of thunder, and I drifted away again into my dreams. Ah, sweet dreams…

Until now. It's 4:09pm and my alarm is set to go off at 4:20pm. Should I close my eyes for a few more minutes? I am reminded of one of my older children's favorite storybooks in which a farmer needs "just a few more minutes" of sleep each morning. Then at the very last minute, he jumps out of bed and does his chores, feeding his now mildly irate farmyard crew.

I most likely will not go back to sleep, but I relish those "few more minutes". To think. To pray. To stretch. To dream about my next day off. To decide what scrubs I am in the mood to wear tonight. To think about what to pack to munch on for the next 12 hours. To remember that a coworker is bringing in her own blend of iced coffee.

Maybe I should remind her. She might forget. Oh, I needed her iced coffee last night. Strong. Potent. Eyeball opening.

Coffee…I should've gotten my brewer set before going to bed this morning. Then I could enjoy even more of the "few more minutes" in bed. Or I could've thrown something in the crockpot to make this last minute rush less crazy.

I hit the snooze button (for the first time). A part of me is afraid to turn it off completely; what if I do close my eyes for just a second? And those seconds become a few more minutes? And those minutes make me late? Okay, I should probably say "later" because I am usually just in the nick of time. I just can't make myself leave my house even earlier just to punch in at 1838 instead of 1845.

I know, it's just a few more minutes, but those minutes let me see my family for one last hug, one last reminder, one last kiss from Leo. Or two. Okay, three or four. One last "Hey mom, have a good night." or "I'll pray for you." One more bite of a hot supper. Only "just a few more minutes", but they hold value.

A few more minutes. What good can they do? Why not just waste them? Well, the way I see it, most of what gets done in life happens in those moments, so I need to look for them and use them to the best of what I've been given. In just a few minutes, a tear can be wiped away, a wound can be cleansed, a smile shared. You get the idea. Or, even just few more minutes can be just the way to capture the rest that I so often ignore (hence, why I have now hit snooze for the second time).

But all good things must come to an end. Or is it just that the end of one good thing is the start of the next good thing? I need to look at it that way. Then getting my sleepy self out of bed can become an adventure instead of a chore.

So, onward and upward, here I go. Because you know, every minute counts.

Love,
Dianne

"When Peace Like A River" Isn't

I could've written about how much it's been raining.
I thought about telling you about another Shakespeare adventure.
I debated the merits of discussing my latest project.
But then something happened.
Someone happened.

We were sitting at the Vacation Bible School program, watching the children as they were all singing, excited beyond ever holding still, when I started to feel sick. You know, that yucky queasy feeling? I excused myself, went out to get some fresh air and some ginger candy to suck on. Taking a deep breath, I went back in.

The singing continued, the children's excitement building at the thought of homemade ice-cream and kettle corn later. But my insides were still in knots. I felt anxious for no apparent reason. Stressed out over some concern I couldn't even express. I tried to pray, to focus on the words being sung.

I've got peace like a river…
     I've got joy like an ocean…
         I've got love like a fountain…

But I wasn't feeling it. Not tonight, and it frustrated me.
Suddenly, as the program was nearing an end, I just had to get out of there.
Leo said he'd drive me home and then go back to the church. So, he did.

Then as we pulled into the driveway and I was trying to explain how I felt, why I felt anxious, he just listened. Then, he prayed with me. He stopped time in that moment, with that prayer. A sifting of peace settled in over my shoulders, infusing my shivering soul with a glimmer of warmth.

Sometimes, in those moments, I am humbled. I am blessed. God gave me a gift when he turned my attention as a 15 year old to this cute blond guy. After all these years, he is the gift that keeps on giving.

The queasy feeling has gone away for the most part. I am listening to a CD of Psalms. The peace is starting to be like a river.

Good night,
Dianne

Living It A Day At A Time

My last post was June 23. Then Life happened.
Funerals,
     Reunions,
          Camping,
               Bible School,
                     Weddings,
                            Work,
                                  Play,
                                       Sleep.

Life happened. Is happening. Busy, busy, busy.

Oh, and my Mac had a weird thing going on that when I took it in to be diagnosed, behaved like a perfect gentleman. Hmmmm. Just like a kid at the doctor. So sick, until you get to the waiting room. You know how it goes.

But life is good. Busy is better than bored.

The funeral? It actually felt more like a celebration of Evan's life. One left the graveside feeling hope. Peace. Strength. God. Not the things you normally feel at a funeral, but there it was nonetheless.

The reunion? Reconnecting with people that you didn't even realize you were related too is always good. The memories shared, the places revisited, the stories remembered. All good. Life was happening in the 1800's, and was being lived in the 1900's and I realized anew how much I can learn from those that have gone before.

Camping? All part of another reunion held up on Mt Davis, this was the annual Maust 4th of July. Oh, we all ate too much, slept too little, laughed just the right amount, and enjoyed the company in abundance. How many people do you know have continuous soft-serve ice-cream available while camping? Just one of the perks of being a Maust. Oh, and making tie-dye shirts…another perk.  And I forgot about "Farmville" (Maust style)…another benefit. Yes, life was definitely lived this past weekend.

Adrienne and Kelsey enjoying Pizza a'la Grill

Bible School? Just started last night, but the preparation started long before. Leo and I helped out with props and the set. I think we should start a new venture called "Sets for Life", because you know, life happens and who doesn't need a good set? Two nights done, three more to go. Summer and Vacation Bible School go hand-in-hand. Memories are being made and oh yeah, it's good.

You never know what happens when the bride-to-be is in the dressing room!

Weddings? Well, not so much the actual wedding, but the wedding plans. I went wedding dress browsing with Aaron's bride-to-be. It was a fun day. Yes, a good day. She goes this weekend with her mom and I am sure that the memories they will make will be ones that LisaAnna will cherish.

Work? Nah, I'll skip the details. But work and life go together. I told Ryan that very thing today as we ordered a bed for his room. You need money to get it done sometimes. "No, it doesn't grow on trees." "Yes, I have to work for it."

Play? Never enough! But, working in my gardens is like playing and when the sun shines, I take advantage of it. Having a 4th of July cookout with family and friends involved some work, but the playing happened too. Tossing a volleyball around with a ballet flair? Let's just say that much laughter ensued. As did also happen when texting Aaron, who is sitting across from me at a campfire, and laughing aloud at my own silliness. Rather embarrassing but not nearly as embarrassing as beating my chest while stretching thinking no one would notice except Aaron. Inside jokes are the best, but when others get a glimpse of what makes no sense to them? Embarrassing. Just a little.

Sleep? Never enough! Ever. (Unless you are Aaron.) But I am thankful for the sleep I get because without it, all this stuff called "living" wouldn't happen.

Oh, and I forgot something. Birthdays. Happy Birthday Mom! I enjoyed the evening very much! Except for the weird guy in the corner. Don't ask. 

Ah yes, life is happening before my eyes. The days are passing rapidly and instead of always looking ahead to what all I need to get done, I am enjoying the days, one day at a time. 

 Love,
Dianne

P.S. It's good to be back!!