Just Joking

"Sometimes the other kids are like: Just JOKING. When their talking and trying to be funny," Jane says. She screws up her face, one shoulder drawn in a shrug. Our morning run done, once again, we lull in conversation, coast like marbles, our legs effortless glides, residual momentum ebbing as we near our driveway.

"Yeah," I say, our strides slowing in tandem as we pass the behemoth silver-gray pine holding down our yard.

"And I'm like: GUYS, if it were a JOKE, you wouldn't have to say JUST JOKING."

"So TRUE," I say, the corner of my mouth curled to match her shurg.

"In Proverbs it says if you have to say JUST JOKING," she continues, "You're a LIAR, worse than a FOOL." She arches her eyebrows, just barely shakes her head. "A liar."

"Huh," I say and suddenly there before my eyes, all those sophomoric attempts at humor, the embarrassing and horrifying attempts at town jester, the budding gyrations of each child trying to BE funny.  "So true, Jane." All that grasping punctured with a proverb.

Just be. And there we are, the two of us, just being together. A bond stronger than humor encircles us.

Later, as I page through my day a quote from CS Lewis comes to mind:

“There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations - these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub and exploit - immortal horrors or everlasting splendors. This does not mean that we are to be perpetually solemn. We must play. But our merriment must be of that kind (and it is, in fact, the merriest kind) which exists between people who have, from the outset, taken each other seriously - no flippancy, no superiority, no presumption.”

And so the day carries on in merriment.

Gratitude:

6275. A friend brings us a basket of organic apples, watermelon, and chocolate. It's dew from heaven and we enjoy every drop.

6276. A new scarf. Blue, all the azure, cornflower, and cerulean you can weave into a scarf, white accents, perfectly soft.

6277. Swimwear. The kids match the lovely weather with swimsuits and sprinklers.

6278. Craig's Grammie turns 102.

6279. Time in the yard with friends. Swings, chickens, garden plants make all the props you would ever need. "Now let's talk about Jesus," one of them says as the adults visit half listening to childish play.

6280. We set up yard games and spend the weekend just being with the kids, let the weekend unroll as if we were really spending every moment.

6281. Jack and Jane make lemon bars from scratch, even squeeze their own lemons.

6282. I teach Lucy how to brush her hair out all silky smooth.

6283. I get the chance to pray with a couple of different people, the world paused, we bow our wills to Jesus. It's like stilling a storm.

6284. I let loose of some things I need to sell. Freedom ensues.

6285. Craig clears and plants 100 square feet full of potatoes.

6286.  Mostly, the days unfold full of flaws and missteps, but the music just keeps on. The tempo pulses on as if it could carry the whole song, as if just playing the next note were enough.

Proverbs

"Why I was reading Proverbs," Lucy says, "was because I was getting angry and I was like what book could I read that is about the stuff that Proverbs is about?" Lucy nods as she talks. She smooths a hand over the crinkly pages of my Bible, the hand-me-down Bible.

She points at verses underlined in seven-year-old squiggle and bracketed. My son, do not forget my teaching, but keep my commands in your heart, I read. This will bring health to your body and nourishment to your bones. I smile at her.

She strokes the tissue thin paper. Blessed is the man who finds wisdom, the man who gains understanding, for she is more profitable than silver and yields better returns than gold. I read another section bracketed in her scrawl. She is more precious than rubies; nothing you desire can compare with her. Long life is in her right hand; in her left hand are riches and honor.

I read on. Do not say to your neighbor, "Come back later; I'll give it tomorrow" -- when you now have it with you.

I scan to another section, The Lord's curse is on the house of the wicked, but he blesses the home of the righteous. He mocks proud mockers but gives grace to the humble. The wise inherit honor, but fools he holds up to shame.

"That is really good," I say.

"Dad asked in his class what you can do if you need to get more energy," she says. "And one kid was like, Eat carrots. And another kid said, Drink energy drinks. And another said, Eat energy bars." She nods, snickers. "And another kid said, Sleep. And Dad was like, There's still ONE more," she says. "And it was READING your Bible."

"Huh," I say. "That's good."

"I didn't have time to read my Bible before I ran so I just decided to do it now," she says, "because then it will be lunch and then school and dinner and bed, and I didn't want it to get pushed to the end of the day."

"That's a good idea," I say. "I'm glad. Reading the Bible is how you KNOW God, and that's the only thing that REALLY matters."

"What were those verses again," I say. "I want to write them down."

"Here," she says. She flops the book open. "What I do, 'cause I don't have a bookmark in, is I find Psalms, and it's right after it. See." She points. "Here."

I gather the fluttery pages, trace the words with my eyes. Wisdom, the antithesis of anger -- how did I miss this?





Gratitude:

5712. "Listen to this," Jane says. She presses play on a small voice recorder. Joey's voice starts. "Today I'm going to tell you about the pilgrims," he says. Jane laughs. It's the beginning of her speech.

5713. New boots! A gift, so sweet on such a snowy year.

5714. I pick up again a log cabin quilt I started last winter. Tiny pieces cut to size, one small miscalculation, and a trip to the fabric store --the quilt expands.

5715. The children chatter with their cousins over coins and stamps and all things collectable.

5716. Lucy sells me a dishcloth she knit, one project of many to earn money for the coin collection.

5717. We continue to learn hymns on the piano and even find ourselves humming them as we work.

5718. We continue to plug away at organizing the house. The upward climb to organization defies gravity with a group of eight.

5719. "Now, choking hazards won't be here," Joe says as he finishes vacuuming the kitchen.

5720. We try to measure our world in small victories. We note again how hard work gives restful sleep.

5721. Craig continues to bless me with good humor and compelling perspective.

5722. Each day we like our path, the small world of our family, and the tasks at hand more and more.