Those raspberries up there... see all the orange ones with stems included? They are my reminder for today to savor the imperfect.
Yesterday I brought home a little boy from church. He asks most Sundays if he can come home with us for the day. He loves Legos and I love him. So we swung by his family's house and asked if he could come play for awhile in the afternoon and they agreed.
A little later, Jesse called and asked if I wanted another kid for the day. I chuckled at first, thinking he was making a joke but he wasn't; he had with him a little girl whose house was empty when Jesse's bus swung by to drop her off after church. It is unnecessary to explain all the details, but at the end of it all, a little girl came to stay until we reached a family member.
Sometimes you just move when the Spirit says move.
She stayed close by my side all day and into the evening. No one was home there in the evening when Jesse stopped by, and I cuddled her to sleep. She stayed close by my side all morning after waking up, but when she saw Lyddie and Millie with bowls out in the raspberry patch, her face lit up and she immediately asked for a bowl and we went out to help. Her sweet fingers joined the other girls' in plucking tender berries from the brambles, and in her eagerness, orange berries and stems were tugged off and planted in the bowl with such joy. I just smiled and handed her a ripe one to munch on while she continued to help pick.
I took her back to her mom earlier this morning and she laid her head on my shoulder as I carried her up the walkway. The door swung open and little girl wrapped her arms around mom's neck, standing there in the doorway, and proudly grinned to catch a glimpse of the little bowl of raspberries she was bringing back with her.
It is complicated to write about some of the stories of my life here, and I find myself backing away on this blog to the simple beauties I see around me because at least those ones I can process, at least those ones have straightforward emotions attached. There is nothing wrong with that in one sense, but I keep feeling prickles of conviction to share just a little deeper, to venture just a little further into what makes up my life and walk with the Lord. This paradox of beauty in imperfections, of Holy God in the broken places- these stories are important to share for those who will listen because they are the a big part of my life and God's work in it, even if they are messy. I approach them with a light touch and some trepidation because I feel I tread holy ground to open these doors of glimpses into my life and the lives of the people we live and work with in this beautiful place called The Rez.