oh, july. nice to see you go. August, you can head on out, too.

Summer has been a rough patch for me. Maybe because life slows down, the routines are off, and I get to see up close the things I still really miss. Like my dear friends. Familiar landscapes. The ocean. My family.

Likewise, on our 4th Summer here, and my first without being pregnant or having a baby, has felt more like home than not, as life here makes  itself known to us.

Millie's baptism was a reminder of God's faithfulness to us, indeed, as we were surrounded by people who have chosen to love us, walk with us, and live life with us here in Oklahoma. It is hard to not focus on what was not there, though- that big gaping hole, that part of my heart that feels like it got left behind.

My family. My old friends. My people.

I remember someone writing in a book for us, when we left St. Louis. "See you at the Great Feast". I remember thinking that was so glim.

I don't feel that way anymore.

I look forward to a day when we shall all be together.

I wish people were talking about THAT day, and not Chick fil a, and or whatever kind of theological squabble is trending this week.

Annie says all of the time. "I want to give Jejus (jesus) a hug". How beautiful.

I pray for a heart that wants that, too.

she hath been washed.

I don't know what we will remember more, that is was a hot Summer day, the good food, or that Millie almost dunked herself on her baptism day. We all nervously listened to Father Jack, as he poetically described this most beautiful sacrament, all the while, Sweet Millie kicked, crawled, growled and screamed her way through the entire ceremony, and was grieved to find out  we were not Baptist when she didn't get to jump all the way in!

hot!!!

The heat has zapped all of my creativity! Not to mention a Summer cold that had me down this past week. Seriously, 114 today. I took the girls to the zoo at the crack of dawn just to get out of the house, but the heat just makes everybody crazy. All I did was scold, correct, threaten the entire time! Mommy of the year!!!!

But then I started driving to Target, because Sweet Millie is getting baptized on Saturday, and I needed to get supplies for lunch, and even the drivers on the interstate were crazy.

Ironically, the girls were angels the entire Target run- I guess they were appreciating the frigid big box store. They are usually crazy in there, too.

We made it home, all drank a gallon of water, and they are out!

Was it worth it? Do you ever really know?

I'll write more when I get my sanity back...

and it won't be about Chick Fil A.

But it may be about the women's gymnastics team. Oh my gosh! They are rock stars! I heart them!!!!

GO USA!!!

radio silent

Somewhere over the last month, I kind of felt like I was losing my voice on this blog, which is usually symptomatic of my own life and choices. A few rough weeks of feeling not physically up to par, a couple of dr's throwing out the word "MS", a long few hours in an MRI tube getting scans of my brain- and well, whatever footing I felt that I had gained over the last few years, felt like it was withering away. This merged with a week of vacation with family, which always stirs homesickness in me.

I have also become increasingly self conscious about my words, my stories. I really see myself as a writer, and so my words may often lean into metaphors and melancholy, or sarcasm, or overly pious. I blame the writer in me. The need for words to be more than words, to somehow wrangle some truth out of them, as I toss them out on the page. Maybe, just maybe, one word will make something clear again. for me, anyway.

I have taken a risk by letting perfect strangers, family, and dearest friends into my head, on this blog. This worries some, comforts others. I know, because you have told me so.

Anne Lamott says,

 “You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should’ve behaved better.”


I think about these words a lot, because writing doesn't always mean making friends. But I have to balance that with the fact that I actually love my friends and my family and even my strangers.


Trying to make everyone comfortable with my words is wearisome and a challenge.


I think writers probably always struggle with this. The better ones, probably less. because they know that writing is risk taking. Telling stories is messy, just like the real life that we live. It's also beautiful, and love and redemption almost always peek through, and I think that's why we keep reading them. and for me, writing them.


I'm going to keep telling my stories here. Because this space has kept me sane.


My husband recently told my Dad that I was someone comfortable with sadness, and that this has been a way to bringing people into my life.


I am comfortable with sadness, but not in a glim way. Hopefully, I pray, in a real way.


I also want to be more comfortable with joy. and peace. These emotions are harder to access for me, but they are there, and I know the benefit of living in those spaces, too. I know, because I have sat in the presence of many of you who are gifted with such presence.


That's all for now. Summer is hot and busy for us. The kids have been sick and I just made sweet tea. I am reading a great book, and  I do not have MS. 


It's all good people. It's all good and hard and happy and sad.


hugs.


brooke