Dancing in the Minefields

There are 81 days left in this year and I've begun to look back over the calendar in my mind....like sifting through a pile of old photographs....I pick one up and smile the wistful kind of smile that calls the day back, another makes me laugh out loud.  There's one that looks mysterious to me,  like I'm not done with it yet, some make me catch my breath and hold my hand over my heart to keep it in it's place.

I've traveled through the valley of the shadow of death, holding the flashlight, as my father said goodbye to this world; the very first person I ever called my best friend, I sat by his bed and sang him songs and reminded him of my memories when he didn't have any left of his own. He slipped away in the early hours of a new day and left behind a daughter who knew what it meant to have a dad who'd loved her well.

I saw my beautiful boy make his childhood dream come true and go off to make his way in the mountains under the western sky all on his own.  He walks tall and straight and sure of himself.  He's a man now.  He drinks his coffee black and reads books about the deeper things in life. I used to teach him his abc's and now I marvel at how he teaches me.   I will remember our midnight talks about anything and everything when the house was asleep; just he and I.  My mama heart fills up full with a love that threatens to burst and then, just at the last moment, it leaks out of my eyes and down my cheeks.  Goodbye, boy.  Don't forget to find the path back every once in awhile to tell me your stories.

I've found friends that feel like a change pouch full of gold coins.  They speak into my life and invite me to family celebrations and see my loose threads and lopsided pattern and love me in spite of them.  They don't leave me on the side of the road when I fall down and come and get me when I wander off, as I'm prone to doing.  They have taught me to take off my mask and shine.  And if my shine gets too shiny they put on sunglasses and wait patiently until I figure it out.

I put on my very first mother of the bride dress and watched my girl turn into a princess and cried tears there aren't words for.  I watched a handsome young man take her hand and lead her into a new life together with him and she will be his wife and the two of them will cleave together.  And it is good and right and beautiful.  I've seen her walk through, push through, dark places and insist on rising out of them and becoming whole and free.  She was once my little girl; she is now a hero to me.

I met a man and thought that it might be love and made friends with the disappointment when it wasn't.  I've learned to shake hands with what I don't always understand and press on.

I've danced in some minefields this year and I've come to tell you it has been worth the journey.  I've been, at different times, quietly worshipful and noisily grateful....and always knowing....God is at work.