well, i did it! 50,222 words in November!
Here are a few of my favorite...
in case I hadn't mentioned, the story I chose to tell this year is Scott's and my love story. how we got from start to where we are now. just prior to the following exerpt I have brought in and decorated that tree with several of the wonderful people we have been blessed to share parts of our lives with... here goes-----
Again, you
may ask, how does any of this have anything to do with the promised love story
of Scott and Robin?
Here is what
I believe about that. Everything. Life is about how we connect with other
lives. If we are fortunate enough to have many people touch our lives, we are
the most fortunate, as they all come and go and pass by trailing laughter and
tears for us to share, that there be one person who remains. One person in whom
you feel you are home. Wholly loved, cherished, forgiven over and over and
adored. One person who encourages you to be your best. One person whose spirit
and soul and body fit yours and serves to recharge you when the world takes
more than its share. One person whose laughter fills your need for the far off
sounds of your heavenly home. One person whose tears draw from you the memory
of your own pains and sorrows and longings, and binds you together that you
might not be lost and alone on your journey home.
But all
these other people? They are reflections and songs and energy and light along
the way. They bring the pain that moves you toward or away from a path. They
are the joy that beckons when you are lost in a dream and forgetting to trudge
on.
I am not a
huge sports fan, in the sense that I often have little to no idea what is
happening, or what rules are in play. But I love to be at a game of any sort. I
love to watch the people, to feel the shared excitement and expectation and
hope. But my favorite? The Wave at a Cardinals game! You’ve seen it. At some
moment chosen by a felt need, a handful of people rise from their seats and
lift and lower their arms in a flowing motion like the raising and dropping of
an elephant’s trunk. Someone nearby spots it and joins in, and before it has
moved half way around the stadium, nearly everyone becomes part of this fluid
wave of bodies, speaking silently to the team on the field, “we are with you.”
If you could
watch from above as in a time lapsed shot of the blooming and dying of a single
flower, I imagine that is what we look like to God. Or, like the lichen growing
on a rock or coral under the sea. A symbiotic life connected one to another by
moments and “coincidence and accidents.”
We come in on the scene and we find
and loose and find one another, grasping and shoving away, swaying together as if one with the wave that moves us.
In this
scenario, Scott would be the rock I cling to. No, that is Jesus.
But Scott’s
heart and mine are so connected, that when one of us dies, the other will likely soon follow.
