After an unplanned sabbatical from the blog world (due to increased chaos and playing outdoors in the real world), here is an attempt to jump back in. How does one cover months in a few sentences? I don’t think I will even try, so much as describe the latest goings on in our world. The boys play for hours outside on the swing set, which sounds like fun and often is. However, taking into consideration the fact that Eli (who barely has balance while walking and running) has taken to climbing quickly up to the highest rungs of the monkey bars, laughing all the while, makes this activity a bit more stressful than one would have anticipated. Tyus is still a faithful follower of the Thomas cult and plays for hours in the sand box with his “shoe shoes.” One thing to note about buying sand for a sand box, be forewarned: it seems there are multiple types of sand one can buy, only one of which is actually conducive to playing in. I, of course, as always, learn these things the hard way. After buying grader’s sand (still not sure what that is) and continually stepping on sharp and coarse gravel that four little feet continually track into the house, I now know the difference.
We are so thankful to be home from our wanderings about the Southeast. We thoroughly enjoyed our travels to Tennessee to visit with friends and supporters, and as always we loved our time a la Mariner Motel in good ol’ Myrtle Beach. Ty literally rode his scooter around every inch of the motel (in his underwear, no less; the boys are still boycotting pants; they have strength of character and will in their convictions, it seems!). Eli had ambivalent feelings toward the whole LP scene. Although he is silly and funny and charming, he prefers smaller crowds and the nearly 100 literal next-door neighbors was a bit much for him. In fact, his favorite thing to do was push our trash can around the motel grounds. Still am not sure how to take that one, but glad he found something to occupy his time there!
After a week in the inner circle of Hades (that is Houston, for those of you who have never been there in the summer), we all the more love the weather in Greenville. Though the heat did not agree with my pale self nor my boys who were made to be outside all day and feel that being inside for more than an hour is eternal exile, we loved some down time with G’s family. The more stories I hear about G’s parents and their lives in India, the more intrigued I am and the more I want to pray that we would be able to make the long trek to India as a family sooner rather than later. Also, after watching an episode of the Indian soap opera whose name I cannot pronounce, I am all the more thankful for PBS (one of our five stations, and actually probably what I choose to watch even if we had cable).
G was out of town this week taking a class in Charlotte on the letters of John by D.A. Carson (so jealous!), so we are more than glad to have him home! This is a poem I wrote after a few days of wrestling with the Lord (the good kind of wrestling that makes you love Him all the more!). Writing these poems has become so worshipful to me!
My Vagabond Soul
June 30, 2010
One part child, two parts vagabond, That’s the current makeup of my soul.
To create the united heart of a beloved child, That’s My Father’s ambitious goal.
On my good days, my soul is adopted, And I move with purpose to my true home.
On the other days, my soul is vagabond, Lonely and restless, exiled to roam.
This side of Glory is the proving ground,And yet I keep seeking the resting place.
Looking for permanence in a shanty of tents, Even the sturdiest here is only a trace.
Home is where My Father King is, This my mind knows all to well;
Yet as I sense the residue of His presence here, With longing my soul does swell.
I’m far enough from my orphaned life To know that my Father is true;
Yet far enough from my lasting home, To often be torn between the two.
The Perfect Father owns my soul Much more than does my past,
And yet I still struggle to comprehend That even here He holds me fast.
It’s He who fights this crucial battle That’s constantly waging in my heart.
The more I can learn to believe this,The less the skirmishes will tear me apart.
Until the vagabond parts are conquered He will not put down His weapons of love.
He is slowly transforming this divided heart Into one that fully trusts the Father above.
Love the poem…
I’m so glad you are blogging again! I am glad I can keep up with your family even being in Rome, GA!
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