"Hey, honey," I say, phone cradled to my ear. There at a bbq someone lofts a beach ball. It deflects off a picnic table and thuds in the grass next to me. I turn away to focus on the phone. "How's it going?" I say.
"Oh, good," Jane says. A boy in khaki shorts scurries over, grabs the ball, and hoists it over his head. He slaps it back across the yard.
"Everyone being good?" I say to Jane. She, home watching the kids, I called to check in.
"Yeah," she says. "Welllll, actually Joey was being kind of wicked at first, but then he ate and sobered up," she say.
"Ooooh," I say. "Is he being good now?"
"Oh, yeah, he's been being a perfect angel ever since," she says.
The cacophony of adults visiting and children volleying the beach ball all but vanishes as I listen to Jane. She waxes on about Joe and dinner and the kids all helping. I close my eyes and picture our home. Jane, she's a paradox of grace and confidence and yet eager for approval, carefully examined approval.
I'm not sure when the tide turned, but these days she goes after rightness more than pleasure. It's a strange turning, as certain as walking on water, as if everything and nothing depended on our guidance.
Like every great work, we fall on our faces and pray for God to have his way.
6040. Craig starts decluttering the garage.
6041. We get and load the kids' new spelling program.
6042. Our tomatoes start producing well. Jack goes out and picks them everyday for me.
6043. We make salads for most lunches.
6044. I find a new pair of sunglasses to mitigate my light sensitive eyes.
6045. We settle into the school routine like a trail we've traveled enough times to make the turns without thinking.
6046. I connect with a new friend/missionary in Mexico.
6047. Jack makes zucchini bread with produce from his garden.
6048. I finish Plague by Judy Mikovitz.
6049. I finish all but the arms on a new navy sweater for baby boy.
6050. I buy some fresh, high quality cocoa powder in preparation for fall hot chocolates.
6051. We move Betsy to a big-girl-bed.
6052. My parents celebrate their 40th wedding anniversary. What a cornerstone. What a legacy.
6053. The old familiar turns of fall so close at hand we enjoy the gradual turning of the days. Each season rolls in new, fresh, and familiar.