The heavens declare the Glory of God
yet not even the heavens
say everything
all at once
The heavens declare the Glory of God
yet there is more glory than can fit
in one sky
in one season
in one lifetime
The heavens declare the Glory of God
one note of an eternal song
one brilliant canvas displayed
and then gone
The heavens declare the Glory of God
in one modest, majestic way
by being just as He made
which is enough
for today
What in the world do I say to Marcus on his 18th birthday?
All I can think is, how did we get here so quickly?
Can’t we skip this milestone, or have a one year do-over?
My arms and heart vividly remember the days when I called you “bud” and flipped you over my shoulder, but now, you tower over me with your man-self and I can’t for a second pretend you’re still my little “bud.” You’re something new now, more solid and more capable; and more other adjectives you have yet to define.
Why did you power through high school and graduate early again? I know there were reasons but I can’t seem to remember them as I pack away your checklists.
Last year, you proved you could keep up with college work; you settled deeper into your skin in the rooms of auto mechanics. Your future plans started solidifying, and then we blew them all to dust. Your dad took a call to St Louis, and we moved you in your senior year.
When you move a piano, you’re supposed to let it settle for a while before you try to tune it; it takes time to adjust to the humidity, the air of a new location. When you move a Marcus, there is no manual to consult, but if there were, I think it would have similar instructions.
What to say about this? I’m sorry? That’s not quite it.
One part of my heart insists, “I know it was right and good for you and for us, the Lord’s plot twists always are, even when we don’t understand them.” Another part sighs; we have both felt some intense demolition crews come through during this time of remodeling; and we are both still in the process of being built up again.
Remember an early night in our new house, when you got out of the shower and opened a door thinking it was your hallway, but found instead the black yawning chasm of the basement? You were so offended! You may not like that part of the property, but you seem to like being in the country, and you definitely like having a huge pole barn.
All summer until recently you’ve been working to finish your high school requirements. “Read this, watch this, let’s talk about that.” We’ve got in a lovely habit of getting coffee and then sitting by Silver Lake to talk for hours. Remember that time it took us 5 hours to get through a 2 hour podcast because we both kept stopping it to comment and argue? The last 2 days of school, we took the motorcycles to the lake to talk about your last assigned book, and I felt like the luckiest mom in the world to have that time with my senior.
I love watching your brain make connections, challenge ideas, and imagine how it could be different. I suspect you will always question systems; you will rarely be willing to do things one way just because that’s how it’s always been done.
Your skepticism, your curiosity, and your work ethic are going to be gifts you bring to wherever you go next. I can’t wait to watch it all unfold.
Love, mom
Sitting next to the field at sunrise, I keep turning my head. The sky is so big I can't even take it in all at once. In my camp chair by the field, I’m wrapped in a blanket. The stars are still out, seeing the slow and gradual beauty as a new day dawns. Spectacular, every day.
See, all this beauty God is making, this gift. And he didn’t need my help for any of it.
I'm right where I belong, here, gaping upward, receiving, and giving thanks.
I’m learning much these days about being welcomed but not needed, as my role in my family shrinks. And in all the rearranging, I am being invited to sit more deeply and comfortably in a posture of receiving, of simply accepting beauty and grace.
Things will get more tangled as the day goes forward, as others get out of bed and there is work to be done. There are always competing priorities, open questions; the way never seems to be clear and straight. We muddle through and the sun goes down and we prepare to do it all over again.
But then a new day, a new invitation.
See all the things God is doing without my help!
I'm right where I belong, here, gaping upward, receiving, and giving thanks.
