The summer's begun around here, weather or not we're ready for it. And yes, I meant to say weather, which, from where I sit, seems a whole lot more like March than July. But I dare not complain. Not when A) there has been a heat wave going on in so much of the country that people are dying from it; and B) I have so much else to complain about today. Unfortunately. Regardless of the weather (or irregardless, as some people like to say, which is dead-wrong, and they'd realize it, if they had two-brain cells to knock together!), summer has come, and with it, the first of our house guests. Beve's oldest brother, an ex-pat who's spent more of his life in Finland than the United States, has landed in our home, bringing with him packages from E and his daughter's aborted Christmas trip. Beve and his siblings always seem so-quintessentially American--big and brawny, athletic, loud and friendly, the oldest as much as any of them. R was talking today about how he sits at a park by the water in Helsinki, eating icecream and watching the tourists. I asked him if he ever wonders how he got here, not literally, but ontologically. He said he thinks about it a lot. Then he verbally mapped out the LITERAL path of how he got from the small town in eastern Washington to Helsinki, Finland. Completely, utterly missing my point of wonder. That was my point. That we expect our lives to be a certain thing, and not something else. But we can't tell at 18 or 23 what that will be. I couldn't. I couldn't tell I'd be married to the tallest boy in the 4th grade in my elementary school, from whom I'd lived across the street. I wouldn't have dreamed such a thing. Only God can do such a thing as this. And our response is always awe and wonder, if we stop long enough to wonder, or have the inclination.
And, we should. Stop that is. Wonder. Sigh in delight, in awe, gaze at the stars that only God could have set into space, at purple mountains, and the foam of seas, in fact, at the great breadth of geographies on this planet. We should be swept away into silence by them, knowing that THEY sing of His glory in a vast array of tongues that we cannot hope to repeat with our paltry words. The Psalmist gets this. Our words in the face of the Creation is nonsense, it really is.
But we don't stop. Not at His creation, nor, very often, with each other. We live with agendas and lists and ideas in our minds of how things should be, how life will go. And we want everything to conform to that. To wit: I spent many, many hours in the last several weeks, making quilts for my nieces and their mother who are hosting E in Finland, and for their father, R, who arrived here Tuesday. Yesterday I gave R his quilt and showed him the other three. This morning E emailed me that he had texted his daughters about their quilts.
I was stunned. Angry. I had a plan in my head. You know, like they were going to be surprises? The way gifts are. It made no sense to me--no sense whatsoever--that he would do that. Ruin MY gift that way. But it was my agenda. All my own agenda. And, in the long run, it doesn't matter a whit. It's the gift that counts. I cannot change what has already happened. I cannot make it un-happen, so I have to let go of my agenda in the face of a new reality. And rejoice in that. Otherwise, it'll be a wedge between me and my brother-in-law (though, because I am who I am, committed to truth in relationships, I have to tell him. Wish I didn't. But these things grow tumors, I know they do!).
And another thing. This morning, SK walked out of her room and said, "Mama, did you write, 'I love Dell" on your Facebook wall?" "No!" I said, emphatically.
"You better change your password, then. Someone else did."
Beve was walking toward the kitchen, and started laughing. "That was me," he said.
"What?" SK and I both asked.
"I thought it was my page."
Of course, two questions come to mind. Firstly, how he could have thought a page that had my name on it was his (though it does make me certain he believes we are actually ONE), and secondly...'I love Dell'? Really? He doesn't post a status for a year, then that? Especially since he's a Mac guy, if he has a choice. Talk about nonsense. Which can only mean, Vacation Beve has come home to roost! And not a moment too soon.
All this to say, it's summer, and with it, all kinds of sense. The glorious nonsense of Vacation Beve, the sometimes no-sense between people who have to live and work together. And the healing Sense of God who saves and comes between as the bridge and the comforter and all things between.
Take a moment to look around at what He created. I'm not saying to stop and smell the roses, but to stop and stare in wonder. Let it overwhelm you that ONLY God could have done all this, the largeness and glory, and ONLY God could make sense of the smallest details of your life, could, and does, care for your relationships in every sense.