These are the days (first Kentucky version.)
These are the days when spring seems to have come suddenly- moving from Michigan to Kentucky, we’ve moved away from those last long weeks of cold into the land of blooms and green (blue)grass. We live in a neighborhood now, where magnolia trees drop their petals on the sidewalks; where parking is tight but people are friendly.
These are the days of visitors: family, friends from Indiana, and friends from Michigan have been in and out almost every week since we have been here. These are the days when Indiana memories flood with the Michigan ones, when we feel a renewed ache for TWO places we have loved and left behind.
These are the days of feeling unable to keep up with so many long-distance friendships, of email guilt and letter guilt and phone call guilt. And yet these are the days of gratitude, when prayers for friends cover large geographical areas, and even the kids have learned to pray for “our Michigan church family and our Indiana church family and the church in all the world.”
These are the days of asking for God to help us keep our hearts open in THIS place; of battling loneliness and resentment of people with “roots,” of at least one child who has determined not to risk it again, saying “I don’t need friends anyway.”
These are no longer the days of just being “mom and the kids.” We are now “teacher and her students,” and the change is a huge one. My checklist-making side AND my nurturing side get a constant workout.
I love it, and it makes me want to cry.
The first week I handed out “tentative” schedules, and after day one I realized I wasn’t ready to plan a whole week in advance. Tentative daily schedules followed, and even those were overruled often.
When trampoline springs began ripping off and shooting in the air and into neighbor’s yards, we had to declare it off-limits, and the pain of that loss is acute. But these are the days of going to the rec center, of learning to swim, dive, play racquetball, pool, and ping pong.
This house feels very small on rainy days, particularly when some are practicing piano or instruments. Some children wear earphones just to block out the others so they can concentrate. I assure them this is a life skill that will come in handy as they grow, particularly if they end up both having children and wanting to use their brains as adults.
These are the days of silly grammar songs, nature notebooks, and a Swiss Family Robinson book club. These are the days of dog training and walks to the library, hikes in new places, and snake identification. These are the days of writing in Ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics, capturing and learning about worms and salamanders, and practicing multiplication facts.
These are the days of new discoveries: the joys of audiobooks, the fishing hole at the park, the inter-library loan system, the power of an evening outing as incentive for us to finish our schoolwork. These are the days of observing just how horribly the can fight, AND how wonderfully they can love each other.
These are more days of “where’s dad? He has to be gone again?” We cheer him on from home while he studies full time and works full time and then some. He begins his studies at 4am and camps out in the library for long hours. Working at Home Depot as a small-engine tech, he comes home home sore and dirty and tired from accomplishing so much. Despite all that, these are still the days of early morning family devotions, when daddy steps away from his list to sit with us, to anchor us in the Most Important Things.
Those are the Words that keep us.
Show me your ways, Lord,
teach me your paths.
Guide me in your truth and teach me,
for you are God my Savior,
and my hope is in you all day long.
Psalm 25
