It Doesn't Get Any Better Than This

We're having dinner at Anita's, celebrating the birthdays of all three of my kids - the two I gave birth to, as well as my "labor-less" daughter, Elise, who in a few short months will assume that role legally when she weds my firstborn. Elise and I rinse dishes while Anita - that great roaster of all things fowl, not least of which is the incredible Peking duck she just served us, complete with homemade pancakes - recuperates from all her effort.

That's when it happens.

I glance out the window to catch a glimpse of Aaron, who went outside to catch a smoke.

Except he's not alone. And he's not smoking.

He's playing catch with Ethan, barely 19, who used to drive Aaron to distraction and even goad him to violence. Once Aaron got over the thrill of finally having someone cute and cuddly to play with, he realized Ethan was here to stay and did annoying things like leaking through his diaper while they sat cheek to cheek watching cartoons.

Five years behind his brother, Ethan quickly figured out how to aggravate Aaron to the nth degree by making up in mouth what he lacked in stature. I ruefully recall the feeling of being a human barrier between two warring kids. Of delivering lectures on the importance of brotherhood and being each other's best friend, those "you and me against the world" speeches Paul Williams himself couldn't have pulled off convincingly.

It wasn't always like that, I remind myself. There was that time I left the two of them at football practice while I ran a quick errand. I can still see the picture of love incarnate that greeted me when I returned 45 minutes later - Aaron carrying injured Ethan across the field and into my arms.

I sneak another peek out the window. They're cracking up at some comment I'd probably disapprove of, then chucking the ball around some more.

Tomorrow, unbeknownst to us all, we will say goodbye to Anita's dear Dusty. My boys, no, men, will take a leading part in her sendoff. She was our "rent-a-dog," coming for visits and even sleepovers. The dog they walked and never cleaned up after, despite Mother's regular reminders. Dusty supplied a vital ingredient in their lives, and in return, they will gently escort her to her final resting place, cradling her lifeless body wrapped up in a special sheet. They will crumble handfuls of dirt into her grave and wish her well.

A week later, Ethan will leave a night of fun with his friends to come home and help his brother grieve over the loss of a second beloved pet. The irritating little brother has become a lifelong friend, available when the chips are down.

But tonight they play ball without a care in the world.

I find myself humming Diane Warren's timeless tune:

These are the moments I thank God that I'm alive

These are the moments I'll remember all my life

I've found all I've waited for

And I could not ask for more

These are the moments I know heaven must exist

These are the moments I know all I need is this

I have all I've waited for

And I could not ask for more

I could not ask for more than this time together

I could not ask for more than this time with you

Every prayer has been answered

Every dream I have's come true

Right here in this moment

Is right where I'm meant to be

Here with you here with me

I smile through tears at Elise and say, "It doesn't get any better than this."

Check out the full version of I Could Not Ask for More

Senseless

My neighbor's dog is deaf and blind. She used to have hearing and vision, but age has taken its toll on this "short person in a fur coat."

We've known this beige, wide-eyed shih tzu for 12 years. Her name is Dusty Miller, and she's comforted everyone in our family at one time or another. When my father lay weak and helpless on what would become his death bed, Dusty curled up at his feet. When my sons had a bad day at school, they went down the street and scooped up Dusty. 

Now Dusty finds the most enjoyment being in familiar surroundings because she's minus two of her senses. We carry her up and down stairs and guide her in safe directions when walking. 

Tonight I took Dusty out to "do her business" so her "mommy," Anita, could do some business of her own. As usual, I steered her around obstacles and out of harm's way, nudging her onto grassy surfaces so she could do her thing. I watched with great interest as Dusty circled and sniffed and even poked her whole face into the earth beneath her. 

She was compensating for what she didn't have, calling on her senses of touch and smell to make up for those she lacked. 

As I've mentioned before, I'll be attending the Greater Philly Christian Writers Conference at the end of this month. I'm working hard on the second draft of my novel, Belabored, but to be honest, it's not coming together as I would like. I've requested information from expert sources to make the book ring true, but it's a waiting game. Other people have lives and to do lists also, and my priorities aren't necessarily at the top of those lists. Oddly enough, the world doesn't owe me anything, and it certainly doesn't have to spin on my timetable. 

So what's a girl to do? Here I am, trying to serve the Lord, using my talents to shed light on a very important subject (abortion), and I'm running into stop signs. But we don't sit at stop signs endlessly, do we? We pause, evaluate our surroundings, and use our best judgment to move ahead when an appropriate amount of time has passed. 

That's just what God's been guiding me to do. Instead of waiting for material I don't yet and may never have, I sense He's instructing me to move forward with what I do have. I have a manuscript which needs revision. So I'm revising. I have a conference for which I can prepare. So I'm preparing.

Like Dusty, I'm figuring out how to work around my deficiencies, and not let them render me senseless.

"If there is first a willing mind, it is accepted according to what one has, and not according to what he does not have." 

2 Corinthians 8:12

For more like this, check out: Morsels for Meditation...: Weeds 2

Morsels for Meditation...: Circles