Rosie performed with her dance team and studio at a local family festival this morning and had an amazing performance. It was her first time dancing as “Elle” in “Legally Blonde”, and she was awesome. I cried. Actually, I cried again, since I had already shed a good number of tears while watching her and her two friends lead the adaptive dancers in “I Hope You Dance”. Wow.
I’m in the middle of a huge photo upload right now. Nine albums (one for each dance, plus one for pre/post-performance). Four down, five to go.
My hormones are sucky the past couple of days. I shouldn’t complain, considering it could be a lot worse at my age. Speaking of my age, I can’t believe I’m going to be 47 next month. Makes me shudder. When did I get this old?
Since last night I’ve been feeling a deep heaviness that I can’t shake. Ironic, since for the first time in about five years I’m actually losing weight. It’s deep, though, down in the depths of my heart. I wish I could explain it better. Maybe it’s just shifting hormones. I hope so.
I broke my favorite coffee cup today. Of course I did.
It isn’t always easy grappling with the way other people behave. Steve and I were talking on our walk last night about how sometimes we have these “Allie McBeal” moments where we wish we could say what’s really on our minds rather than the politically correct, polite, gentle, socially acceptable expectation. I know it’s best to be quiet when my soul is railing against its bounds, but it isn’t always easy. I’m praying extra hard right now for strength to keep myself in check.
I’ve been blogging daily at More of Him, Less of Me. If anyone is interested in reading how God is growing me through some pretty interesting things, I invite you to check it out. It’s actually fun becoming the real me again.
I love roller coasters. The climbs, the falls, the twists and turns…the thrill, the anticipation, even the scary parts. Everything comes together to create three or four minutes of fun. I think the older I get, the more like a roller coaster life seems. It reminds me of the scene in the movie “Parenthood” where Steve Martin’s character realizes that life being a roller coaster isn’t necessarily such a bad thing. Everything comes together to make life what it is, and our outlook on the whole thing decides whether it’s a fright show or an adventure movie.
Our family educational adventure could be viewed as a microcosm of life in many ways. Actually, after having homeschooled my children for 22 years, it has been much of my life. To be honest, I can’t even imagine what life will be like in three years when I have no more children left at home to teach. At that point, I will have homeschooled for exactly half my life.
We heard last week that there is still a good chance Matt will soon be hired at the museum. We picked up his khakis over the weekend, and he is eager to get started.
It is looking more and more like we will be moving back to the Brandon area this summer. It’s no easy task trying to word how bittersweet that will be. The dance studio up here has been nothing short of a miracle in Rosie’s life. In all our lives. The Sells and all of the amazing girls she dances with have breathed new life and passion for dance into her that I wasn’t sure would ever be possible. Her work ethic has responded to their instruction and encouragement, pushing her years forward in ability and love for the dance arts. We won’t ever forget that, and we won’t ever allow time or distance to steal the friendships she has forged here. We will always make time for her to continue those relationships.
Whether or not Rosie decides to dual enroll at the community college or simply pursue direct career training as a nanny, I know God will open the right doors for her. We are looking into a particular dance studio in Brandon, and I trust He will show us if it is right for her. She and I were talking about it all last night, and she said something I consider rather profound. She said she doesn’t think she would be the person she is today if not for the adversity she has faced during the more negative parts of what we have come to call our pilgrimage time over the past few years. She is right. None of us would be.
So we continue to grow and adapt and look for God’s hand in every situation, in every moment. He never lets us down.
One thing that seriously vexes me is the way I can be out and about, doing life wherever, and I can think of a gazillion things to write about. The wording floats through my mind in nearly poetic form. I even think about sitting down to write about it, and it’s just gone. Makes me crazy.
I was in Bath and Body Works once with my mother (I believe it was actually the last time we shopped together at the mall before she died) and came across an aromatherapy scent called “Breathe”. Now, I normally don’t like aromatherapy scents at all (no, seriously–they just plain stink!), but this one…well, this one reminded me of my childhood. I can’t exactly explain why or how, but it did. Something like our school cafeteria (back when school lunches were actually pretty good) and the hallways in fourth grade heading to Mrs. Mills’ classroom, mixed with a hundred or more other tiny scents of memory that awakened the nostalgia senses with a force that hit me rather unexpectedly. I wavered for a moment, but Mama (as was common with her) bought a small bottle of it for me.
I can’t remember how many times I have used it for a memory nudge in blogging or life-story writing, and ironically I’ve even found it works with a measure of regularity for other people. It must just be one of those scents that hints of individual memories, making it a lovely tool for writers everywhere. Anyway, this isn’t an ad for Bath and Body Works so much as a musing about how helpful that particular lotion was for piquing nostalgia and helping to unlock whatever it is that slams shut the moment I sit down to write. Maybe this would be a good time to dig out that lotion.