Bringin’ it in

lisaorange

I’ve been feeling a strong nudge lately to “bring it in”. To pull in, regroup, reassess, sort some things out, reset priorities, and renew my understanding of just what it is God wants me doing and exactly what that looks like.

It all includes a bit of revamping for lisaeasterling.com. Beyond looking into building out the site within the next couple of months, things are a little fuzzy.

I’m just going to have to trust God to show me what to do when the time comes. He is faithful, always.

It will mean some changes for me that I’m still sorting through. Needing a bit more clarity before moving forward. Leaving that to His keeping, too. He’s trustworthy that way.

I’m home alone–rare in general, but particularly rare on an evening.  Some might consider it a drag spending a Friday evening in while everyone else has places to go and people to see. For me, solitude is a gift. I aim to spend it well.

I’m growing more pensive as the weeks of 2013 wear on. Not negatively pensive, just thoughtful. Big milestones this year. Our youngest graduates high school in May, completing our 25th and final year of homeschooling. She turns 18 the next day. I turn 50 six months later. I’m still not sure how I feel about turning 50, especially right on the heels of officially no longer having any “kids” (under 18). I’ll keep you posted on how I’m doing with all that.

I sit here at my little desk in the corner of our bedroom, a tiny nook my family has come to lovingly call “The Mom Cave”, and take in my surroundings. There is so much here, even within my reach but certainly within view.

For starters, there’s chocolate–a mound of it compliments of my sweet husband who brilliantly grasps its medicinal value at “certain times”. Just another reason (among many) to adore the man.

There’s the white board above my desk, a gift from our eldest son. I scribble notes in random places across its surface, check off to-do’s and keep track of important dates and upcoming events. The upper left corner houses a small framed photo of our baby daughter, Heather, kissed goodbye by her grief-crushed family only hours after her birth nearly 23 years ago. A magnetic notepad, a Buccaneers football magnet holding a Dove Promises wrapper thoughtfully saved by my beloved, a photo greeting card from a good friend, and an errant word tile from my Magnetic Poetry set round out the board’s contents.

Interestingly, the errant word tile is “place”. I wonder if that is significant somehow. I also wonder where I stashed the rest of the set. I’m suddenly wanting to play with it.

This is probably one of the most meaningless posts I’ve written in a long time. Which probably means I should close it out and get the dishwasher unloaded and start a load of laundry and clean up the mess of books and toys my little granddaughter left behind this morning.

I said I wanted to write some tonight. And so I have. Not much substance to offer the world, but it’s good to write all the same.

 

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Crowded brain chaos and other reasons for absence

clayme

January is more than half gone, and I’m just now showing up to blog for the first time this year. It’s been a busy few weeks here.

Pandora chimes out “Cristofori’s Dream” while I sip sweet cream chocolate caramel coffee and enjoy a few moments of solitude. It’s seldom quiet here, so I rest in these moments when I can.

My mind is crowded tonight. So much so that I struggle to put words together. Weaving seems far down the list since creativity would require that words actually wind up on the screen and not just keep bunny-hopping around in my head. A car door outside heralds someone leaving, or arriving, or maybe both. There is no meaning to this.

This is why I don’t show up here often these days. What tiny shred of creative expression I can muster has to be saved for WWIH, and there just doesn’t seem to be much left over after that. I keep hoping something magical will happen and I’ll wake up one morning with the ability to perfectly balance household, homeschooling, ministry, leadership, and everything else and still have wits enough to write here. Maybe one day.