Thirty-Five

The day was busy and full.  My main task was sorting and separating all the artwork from the year and choosing which pieces from which students should be displayed at the museum on Saturday.  We have about 45 students, and wanted to choose around 20 pieces for each of the 8 displays, which meant that over half of the students' work was not chosen for any given category.  Yet, we wanted to make sure that the students were more or less equally represented.  It was like putting together a giant puzzle - trying to juggle which artwork was "the best" and which student needed more pieces displayed.  On Thursday we will take the chosen artwork and weave them together to create a beautiful display.

I have been thinking a lot about the essence of things.  For instance, what makes a piece of art more beautiful than another piece of art?  Or what makes a house or a city feel like home?  What makes  community spring up in one place but not in another?  How does loneliness get a foothold even in the midst of deep, enduring joy?

A few months ago Hubry and I went on a walk during my free hour at school.  It works out perfectly to have a Monday afternoon "date" in this way because the kids are all in class, and the school is walking distance to the Kennesaw Mountain trails.  We had recently heard the news that he would not be considered any further for an interesting job prospect, and yet we weren't feeling "at home" where we lived.  And so the walk was a prayer walk - a time to beg the Creator to make straight paths for us, to help us feel connected, to show us where His heart was breaking in our city - to make us feel at home when we did not, and to give us many, many, many opportunities to help others to feel at home.
Though these same prayers had been prayed many times throughout the past year-and-a-half, something tangible started blooming on that walk - in those prayers.

Yesterday Hubry came to my school again to have a free hour birthday walk.  As we moved through the shade of the trees, I heard the creation echo that He is here, right here in our midst.  A deep gratitude settled over us as we remembered those prayers from a few months earlier, and gave testimony to God at work in our lives.  In just a few short months, Hubry has made some significant connections with other local men, we have decided not to apply for other jobs but to stay put for a while, we have started looking for a house to buy, and we have had several opportunities to help others feel at home.  God is no more with us now than he was before, but this has been a season of seeing some of those long-felt prayers answered.

It is also a season of waiting.  Waiting to see how he will answer other prayers, and trying to be faithful in thanksgiving, and patient in longing.  At the end of my hardest day, when I try my best to complain about my lot, His goodness is so overpowering.  The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places (as a roommate of mine used to quote in college).

So how does it feel to be 35?  I would say there is a steadiness to it - a grounding.  Options are closing, and I am feeling more and more comfortable with myself - this shell where I get to live out home and community and longing and patience.  And in general, there is an overwhelming sense of gratitude.  I am so thankful for my husband who is my best friend and the love of my life, and for my children, who sprinkle my days with joy and chaos.  I am thankful for friends, and family and even weeds with little purple blossoms.  I am thankful for the baby birds in the yard and the mothers who drop worms into their mouths.  I am thankful for eyes to see beauty and a heart to drink it in.