"Is this all your stuff?" Dad was wondering how I had accumulated enough stuff to fill the four-foot stacks of bins that were ready to be loaded in Electra (my car).
"Yes. That's all my stuff. There's more in the basement." I also have a bookshelf and two end tables in Kearsen's upstairs, a folding table and folding chairs in the basement, boxes of kitchen supplies in Grandma's garage, and a twin size mattress in Grandma's basement.
I half-smiled. Tyrel began lifting one of five boxes of books. "Lift with your legs, Ty," Dad said. "Just set that there. Laurissa, do you have any odds and ends?" He had loaded two of the bins in the trunk already.
If Dad were to make it into the Guiness Book of World Records it would be Most Tightly Packed Buick. I began unloading a box of random winter clothes.
Soon we were out of large bins to pack. Dad told me we needed more stuff. And from there we stuffed the crevices in the back seat and underneath the passenger side seat.
"There. Now it's tight." He slammed the trunk. "Should only take one more load to move you for good."
That morning I left Sioux Falls for good, and my parents followed behind me until Des Moines where we ate lunch at a rest stop.
"We are so proud of you." Mom was on the verge of tears. Dad patted my shoulder. Mike and Tyrel leaned against the car. "Don't give them too much work to do," warned Tyrel. "High schoolers don't like that."
"Watch out on I-80. Those crazy knuckleheads switch lanes every chance they get."
"If you get tired, well, stop."
"Please, please, please don't talk on the phone while you are driving."
"We are so proud of you."
I feel like I haven't had this type of parenting and just plain family-ness in a long time. Somehow, I've become too independent. As mom pushed my bangs behind my ear she gave me that I-love-you look that I know so well--puppy eyes, lips together, admiration and pure love all in one.
Mom, Dad, Kearsen, Mike, Ty? Well, I love you.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Timetimetimetimetimetimetimetimetimetimetime
Psalm 90
Lately I have been thinking about time and its effects on us. I was talking with Monique not too long ago about how, as soon as we each have something good going, the fact that we are in one big transition phase in life sort of makes our decisions for us.
But transitions are transitions, and we simply have to learn to deal with them. I for one will not settle...ever, hopefully. Hopefully I'll keep moving and keep desiring new phases in life.
Last night I came across Psalm 90, and I read it over and over. I keep thinking the work I do in life is for me and for what makes me happy, but this whole passage reminds me that in all I do and in all I experience, there is joy in just doing what we do for God. (Yes, Laurissa, took you long enough to figure this out.) I'm going to have to keep rediscovering this truth throughout life, I think.
Psalm 90
Lord, you have been our dwelling place throughout all generations. Before the mountains were born or you brought forth the earth and the world, from everlasting to everlasting you are God.
You turn men back to dust, saying, "return to the dust, O sons of men." For a thousand years in your sight are like a day that has just gone by, or like a watch in the night. You sweep men away in the sleep of death; they are like the new grass of the morning--though in the morning it springs up new, by evening it is dry and withered.
We are consumed by your angst and terrified by your indignation. You have set our iniquities before you, our secret sins in the light of your presence. All our days pass away under your wrath; we finish our years with a moan. The length of our days is seventy years--or eighty, if we have the strength; yet their span is but trouble and sorrow, for they quickly pass, and we fly away.
Who knows the power of your anger? For your wrath is as great as the fear that is due you. Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.
Relent, O Lord@ how long will it be? Have compassion on your servants. Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love, that we may sing for joy and be glad in all our days. make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us, for as many years as we have seen trouble. May your deeds be shown to your servants, your splendor to their children.
May the favor of the Lord our God rest upon us; establish the work of our hands for us--yes, establish the work of our hands.
Lately I have been thinking about time and its effects on us. I was talking with Monique not too long ago about how, as soon as we each have something good going, the fact that we are in one big transition phase in life sort of makes our decisions for us.
But transitions are transitions, and we simply have to learn to deal with them. I for one will not settle...ever, hopefully. Hopefully I'll keep moving and keep desiring new phases in life.
Last night I came across Psalm 90, and I read it over and over. I keep thinking the work I do in life is for me and for what makes me happy, but this whole passage reminds me that in all I do and in all I experience, there is joy in just doing what we do for God. (Yes, Laurissa, took you long enough to figure this out.) I'm going to have to keep rediscovering this truth throughout life, I think.
Psalm 90
Lord, you have been our dwelling place throughout all generations. Before the mountains were born or you brought forth the earth and the world, from everlasting to everlasting you are God.
You turn men back to dust, saying, "return to the dust, O sons of men." For a thousand years in your sight are like a day that has just gone by, or like a watch in the night. You sweep men away in the sleep of death; they are like the new grass of the morning--though in the morning it springs up new, by evening it is dry and withered.
We are consumed by your angst and terrified by your indignation. You have set our iniquities before you, our secret sins in the light of your presence. All our days pass away under your wrath; we finish our years with a moan. The length of our days is seventy years--or eighty, if we have the strength; yet their span is but trouble and sorrow, for they quickly pass, and we fly away.
Who knows the power of your anger? For your wrath is as great as the fear that is due you. Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.
Relent, O Lord@ how long will it be? Have compassion on your servants. Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love, that we may sing for joy and be glad in all our days. make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us, for as many years as we have seen trouble. May your deeds be shown to your servants, your splendor to their children.
May the favor of the Lord our God rest upon us; establish the work of our hands for us--yes, establish the work of our hands.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Stoplights
It's that moment when that safe color green decides to turn the unsure color yellow, which brings us to the ultimatum--red. And here's my thought process: Green means go. Okay, I'll go, and everyone else will go, and it will be predictable and safe. Oh, okay, yellow. Well do I speed up or do I slow down? What if I slow down too much and I get in a fender bender? But I'm in a hurry. Is it illegal to speed up? Oh, I hate yellow! Okay, so say I do speed up and run through it on yellow? In the middle of the intersection it turns red. Check for cops? Does that technically count as running a red light? Yes? Oh, okay.
"You are legitimately scared of stoplights, aren't you?" Beth once said.
Yeah. I am.
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