winter in the country

Three activities consume my days as of late:

*Taking care of and loving on Lucas
*My new job at ECFA
*Getting to and from my new job at ECFA

Traveling in rural Illinois in the winter is a masochistic activity like I have never known. As a child I used to love pumping my fist at truckers as they passed by, and listening to the low bellow of the truck horn that would cause the hairs on the back of my neck to rise. These days I find myself wanting to offer the truckers I meet on the road, a different hand gesture.

Allow me to paint a picture: I'm driving along a one lane (each way) rural road listening to Regina Spektor for the 436th time because I keep forgetting to grab a different CD from home. A truck approaches going the opposite direction. Following the truck is a sandstorm of snow that literally reduces visibility to zero for several seconds. I hold my breath, allow my life to flash before my eyes for the fourth time this morning, swear under my breath, wait for the death trap to pass, and continue on my way. All the while slipping and sliding along.

I believe that I owe my current existence to more than just the "Trinity", perhaps more of a "Quadrity" of sorts. There's the Father, Son, Holy Spirit, and, of course, four wheel drive. To each of you I am eternally grateful for being alive today. And to the first three, remind me again...why rural Illinois?

savoring

I'm finding that being a parent is this constant dichotomous existence. After every nap he appears changed, older, more alert. I look forward to him sleeping through the night, holding his own bottle, sitting up, crawling, walking, talking, being able to put his pacifier back in his mouth and get potty trained. And yet I pack up the clothes that no longer fit him with a sense of loss. I can't bring myself to move his cradle, which he's already grown out of, out of our room. It represents the end of a season. He no longer fits comfortably on my chest for nap time. He's lost that newborn cry and moved on to the full-bodied baby cry.

Life never stays the same. A day ended is another day never to return. It sounds depressing right? Mark and I just went to see "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button". It is primarily a love story. And as life moves backwards for Benjamin and forwards for Daisy, they have a few fleeting years together when they meet in the middle of both of their lives. A constant theme in the movie is "nothing ever stays the same." I wonder why God chose to make life move so quickly? Its interesting how we as humans are always shocked at how quickly a season of life moves. "They grow up so fast." "How did I get to be this old?" These are such frequently used phrases and questions and yet we continue to be surprised. We continue to wonder where the time went as if we thought this maybe this season, time would slow down for us. But alas, it doesn't. In case you think I'm sounding a bit like Solomon of Ecclesiastes, perhaps I am. But this awareness leaves me with only one conclusion.

Savor life.

Cherish it.

Each day for what it is.

For the good and the bad. As the future turns to the present and quickly to the past, love the present most. Regardless of its short life-span. For it is the only sure moment that God has given us.