Available for an afternoon respite:

One, non-napping, slightly sassy, incredibly adorable toddler. Prone to runny noses, but very durable when it comes to falls. Currently struggling with pneumonia, but not letting that get in the way of his trip-planning (must include tractors, fire trucks, trains, and garbage trucks), thomas-watching, dvd-player manipulating, chicken-eating ways. At this very moment, despite repeated attempts for resting, he's in the big blue chair behind me, "reading," with feeling and emphasis, green eggs and ham. Exhausted mama will pack bag before opening wine, she promises. 

Easter Shoes

Enough said. 

Holy

I've often written and invited people into a holy exhaustion during this season -- come and worship, I've invited, feel the emotions that heighten and peak, and experience the glorious delight, the fear and joy that come with the resurrection.

I feel that holy exhaustion in a new way today, after having a funeral this morning with the sanctuary still smelling sticky sweet with Easter flowers, the cross still adorned with life and green, the alleluias still ringing in my ears. I feel that ache in my bones and that cloudy, hungover sense that makes me wonder what words are coming out of my mouth, as if I inhabit a different body. The deaths have lined up, one, two, three, and while the other two I will only mourn in my own way, not in the way of a leader, they are still present, and I struggle as always with the grief in the midst of sure knowledge of resurrection and everlasting life. It makes for a good sermon, but with it there is an exhaustion. Some might even say, a holy exhaustion.

Winter, still

It would sit on the ice in the middle of the river for months. People would buy tickets to guess when the ice below it would eventually give way and as the weather began to warm, each time we crossed the bridge -- which we did several times a day -- I would look to see if it was still there. 

I don't remember that my parents ever bought a ticket. I would guess they didn't. But watching the old junked car there was part of my childhood, pondering when the weather would warm enough and the river would run fast enough to break the ice free. 

I don't know how it got there, or how it was retrieved from the water after it went down, but it's one of those images imprinted on my mind. 

Today, I'm not above pondering just when the weather will warm enough to make it feel like spring is pending. Folks at church yesterday said, "By Wednesday, maybe Thursday," and I desperately want to believe them. I'd be thrilled with simply some sunshine, but I certainly won't turn down warmer weather. 

It's been a long winter, and I'm tired. 

And on a lighter note...

Some random tidbits from the world around me: 

* A few of the women whose blogs I read are pregnant. I'm excited for these births, even though I rarely (if ever) comment on their blogs. 

* I think chocolate is an acceptable food group for breakfast. Particularly with coffee. 

* I was sick last week. I hate being sick. 

* The whole personal pep talk thing? It should probably be a daily event, if not more. 

* My dog is sleeping very cutely right now. It makes me wonder why he's crazy-dog sometimes. 

* I had a "still, small voice" moment last night that I'm not sure what to make of. One of those times when I hear something in my head so very clearly, but so completely unexpectedly. 

*We're going to a fancy-schmancy dinner and dance this weekend. I'm particularly excited about the dancing option. 

* It's my birthday month. Soon it will be my birthday week. I need to figure out what I want to do for this celebration of my life. 

* If I could stay home and bake and cook all the time, I just might. Of course I know I would go batty and unproductive after about day three, but it's a good fantasy to have in the middle of a meeting. 

Let it

I just keep thinking, I have to let it go. And I do. Which isn't to say that I will, or that I have. Only that I recognize that I have to. Ugh. I hate that feeling. 

My mentor and I talked at length about this tendency to hold onto things and obsess about them, to let myself have the grace that I would give to someone else, to see that I deserve/need/am worthy of/do indeed receive grace even when I don't usually afford it to myself. 

Why can I preach about God's grace, but I have such a hard time feeling it myself? Maybe I'm OK with God's grace, it's grace for myself that I somehow am too stingy about? 

Let it go, let it go, let it go.