Biding Time

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How good it is to say, that I have attended the “early service” for  the past two days.  The relaxed work schedule, I am observing, has afforded me this luxury, and I have taken full advantage. Some people wake and charge into the day, quite naturally.  I on the other hand,  do not.  First, I do not rise with the full use of my facilities.  It is best for me, ad all concerned in my path, if I am allowed to slip quietly in to the day.

Before, my husband died, he would bounce out of bed and be halfway dressed  before announcing, “I have been thinking  about our car insurance . . .” and I would look at him, incredulously , and ask “how?” , for I was still processing the concept of things like, “Today is Tuesday.”  The “early service”  is a blessing in more than one way, for me.  

In September, the early service is a gentle affair.  Leaves are fluttering, just as the  moths do, in the evening. Both, moths and leaves, make a big production, about their flight.  They both twirl and dash madly, but silently, before their landing.  I have been mistaken, knowing which is which  . . .in September.

Even the sun behaves differently, these days.  The sky slowly turns a buttery shade, while the cicadas chant their choruses.  A lone bird may sing out.  Today it was a cardinal.  I go over my prayer list and just in case, I include the whole world.  My dear friend, Julie asked me the other day, if I was still praying about my own personal predicament, with the move from the rabbit patch.  I said “that is not my business” anymore.  Julie laughed, for she understood that I had given the thing to the Father, after all.  This does not mean, that I am not very curious, for oh how, I wish I knew the details.  It does not mean, that I do not burn with wonder, but it does mean, anticipation and trust can go “hand in Hand”, I have learned.

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Every time Jenny calls, I feel a pang of  senselessness.  The baby could be hours or weeks away, after all.  I am packed and ready.  Lyla has a pocketbook with a pacifier, a tissue and a little toy, packed too.  Lyla, has also started “preschool”.  On the second day, Lyla did not want to join her teacher in “circle”.   She told the teacher, she wanted to continue playing.  After a bit, the teacher told Lyla, she would need to sit with her in the hallway, while the other children enjoyed the “circle time”.  Lyla took her hand and  obediently walked out.  Lyla, surveyed her surroundings and told the teacher, that she  ” liked the hall, for she could see everything!”   . . .so that didn’t work.  Oh, it may “take a village to raise a child.” . . .but it also  takes the “wisdom of Solomon” .

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I have decorated the farmhouse porch with  a bit of autumn foliage, a lantern and a wreath.  It is very hot and humid, still-quite undesirable conditions for me.  Some people love hot weather, but it makes  me wilt.  I am in no way denying the wonder of summer, for the night sky is dazzling in months like July.  There is also the wild honeysuckle, magnolias, roses and cape Jasmine perfuming the air with the most intoxicating scents.  No other season smells like summer.  There are too many extraordinary details about summer, to dismiss it nonchalantly, without gratitude for  the dewy mornings and the gardens’ bounty,  but when autumn is just in the wings, I fall headlong into the prelude with great expectations.

Just now the floss flower blooms as the oak fades. Now and then loosened leaves fall in empty nests, abandoned in thickets.  . .  and some fall to cover the little garden path. Though the grass still grows, it lacks the former vigor of June.  The roses in the Quiet Garden  are few and far between.   Nature seems in a lull just now.  It is as if the rhythm of life, has slowed enough for every living thing to “catch its’ breath”.  

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I pack at least one box everyday.  In this way, I hope to avoid  the scrambling and rushing, as often comes with moving.  I think I may be setting some sort of record, as the longest move in history.   I started seriously contemplating this idea two years ago.  It took me a year to decide and now finally here I am waiting on paperwork.  What an ordeal!  I carefully label each box and to keep my spirits up, I imagine unpacking them in some cozy cottage.  Something is simmering in the kitchen and often it is raining, in my day dream.  

Other times, I imagine an expensive moving truck, honking the horn, while we are all cross and eventually, someone drops the box of the beloved Christmas china.  

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Imagination can be a wonderful tool in life. . .or not.  I was blessed early in life with the opportunity to develop skill in this .  My cousins and I were expected to entertain ourselves a good deal of time.  We were not poor, but toys were not lavished upon us. Besides, we had trees, fields  and woodlands that served as a playground.  We made up all sorts of dramas and games.   We were always exploring a newly discovered path made by deer, an abandoned shed or at least once an old moonshine still, we were sure belonged to a great uncle.  We were quite resourceful, for we had to be.  We solved our disputes and made up rules of what was fair.  I do not know, even now if the adults knew they were imparting such a valuable gift to us, but it has served me well.

In the midst of a problem, I can imagine a positive outcome.  If something doesn’t work the first time,  then now I know better, how to proceed.  How many forts fell in shambles before the one that made it through winter, I remember?  When something takes longer than I expected, what might I stumble upon, while waiting, I wonder?  If I am going to invent some event, you can rest assured, I am expecting something wonderful to happen.  Doom and gloom serve no purpose, as best I can tell, except to make us “worried sick”, truthfully.  Even when I feel melancholy, I know it will pass.  Regret and loss, are the burdens, hardest to shake for me, I have found.

Tomorrow is Sunday, and since I am at the rabbit patch, I hope to cook a Sunday dinner.  The kitchen remains mostly intact.  (I did bravely packed the bundt pan and some measuring cups.)   At any moment, Jenny could call with the arrival of her new daughter, possible.  There is also a hurricane that may make landfall here, on Wednesday.  (I did not pack the lamp oil nor the flashlights.)  Until then,  I will bide my time, waiting for so much to happen, while I watch the grand finale of summer . . .and imagine all sorts of beautiful things to come.

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21 thoughts on “Biding Time

  1. Oh my…she is growing up. You do have the most wonderful out look on life and what a blessing that is to have. Now…about this storm…We missed ours last week ..it kinda pooped out but yours could be a different story. Lord please don’t let that baby come in a storm.Of course my prayers are for everyones safety. I have several friends over that way and my #2 is in N.E. Georgia .Some things about the end of summer we really could do without.
    Take care and hold tight. Love you.

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  2. What a beautiful writing! I pray that your move will go smoothly! I know that Melisssa will miss you & your fiddle! Thank you for our time at school – you made me realize how wonderful it is to be the listener. God bless you as you add another grand child – they truly are such precious gifts!

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  3. Dear Ma;am,
    I hope the ear pain is better. Glad you caught the early service a few times this week and got some boxes packed too. Hope the storm bypassed your area. I love Lyla’s naughtiness- it is true- it is more interesting in the corridor. What else can one expect when the little child has been given freedom to grow and express herself in the best way possible all her life- it will take some time for her to be ” agreeable” to school norms.
    Like you I have given my plans to God- often I think I hear the answer is no and I should not try any more – but on the other hand, I hear a voice that says, if it was not meant to be, the dream would not have been planted in your heart.
    Till the time the wait ends, we need to keep battling.
    Susie

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    1. Dear Susie-you are so right-if the dream is in your heart, it is there for a reason-It is the timing of things that i so tricky for me. My ear is all but perfect, thankfully. And Lyla. . .she is a free happy little sprite, naughty and all. Godspeed Susie to the both of us! and thank you sincerely. love Michele

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  4. Michele, years ago a dear African friend gave me a hand painted card wth a beautiful picture of the moon and the saying, “my barn burned down, but now I better can see the moon.” May God bless your downsizing (& next place) with extra doses of love & grace – better to see the moon & stars & our Heavenly Father’s gaze. Blessings & moonbeams – VA 🙏🌙🌷🌙🌷🙏

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  5. You wait with anticipation for your new grandbaby… and selling the house. It’s an exciting time with new beginnings … and of course a new season is upon us as well. Changes happen but one’s outlook is everything…. yours’ of course is the right way Michele! Diane

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  6. You bring such a sense of peace and order when I read your posts, Michele. Balm to my soul. Your Granddaughter is absolutely precious! She is getting so big. Did I miss something or is this Lyla? Mornings …. oh I hear ya! I get up with one eye open trying to grasp that I am even awake. Hubby on the other hands as soon as his feet hit the floor is talking a mile a minute about this that or the other. I just helplessly look at him and plead … please be quiet until I wake up. Coffee. Oh yes coffee! The light … has become more mellow and yellow and yes there is definitely a lull about these days. I big sigh perhaps as if the manic growth of Summer is over with. Moving … I wish you all the best there because it is SO much work. Imagination … I understand for I too grew up having to depend on me to entertain myself. And entertain myself I did. Beautiful beautiful post, dear friend. Thank you so much for giving me a sense of calm as I attempt to pry my other eye open. XOXOXO

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  7. So what if my eyes teared a little reading that The Rabbit Patch is soon to be in your rear view. I’ve imagined visiting it, and having a nosey around the yard, and a lovely sit on the porch. Like you told your friend though, it’s no longer your business, mine neither I suppose, just will miss seeing it through the seasons, though your eyes.

    With Grace, I suspect you’ll make your next home your own, thanks to the support of your family, and especially with the love, laughter, and honesty of little Lyla.

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  8. So much going on in your life and in your mind, Michele. Writing is a great way to sort through everything, isn’t it? I loved your busy, wonderful post. Hugs to Lyla. She will come to circle time when she’s ready. ❤️

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