"...There's nothin behind me and nothin that ties me
To somethin that might have been true yesterday
Tomorrow is open and right now it seems to be more
Than enough to just be there today
And I dont know what the future is holdin in store
I dont know where Im goin, Im not sure where Ive been
Theres a spirit that guides me, a light that shines for me
My life is worth the livin, I dont need to see the end
Sweet, sweet surrender
Live, live without care
Like a fish in the water
Like a bird in the air."
I was so young...when I thought I was so old. Now that I really am "so old" (according to our eleven year old twin daughters) I realize how young I was then.
Mary Baker Eddy says, in Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, "…age is halting between two opinions or battling with false beliefs, [while] youth makes easy and rapid strides towards Truth." This statement is like a toddler holding my hand leading me away from my aged halting, battling self, and towards the youthfulness that makes easy and rapid strides towards truth.
This has been especially helpful in the last week or so. We are moving. There! I've said it. It has not been an easy thing to accept. I LOVE our flat here in the city. I love her character. I love the light that pours in through stained glass transoms and large rippled-glass-multi-paned windows, bathing our days in gold. I love her squeaky wide-pine floors that catch the sun's rays in the morning, sending it bouncing up onto her one hundred year old hand-plastered walls and splaying it across our bedroom quilt like a langorous cat stretched out for a nap. And oh her colors….periwinkle blue, pear green, wet sand, raffia, persimmons, candied ginger…they wrap us in beauty on even the coldest, grayest days of winter.
But.. we have eleven year old twins and they love soccer, and puppies, and running and yelling and their friends who live "way out west" (in the suburbs), and their school (which is also way out west) and being eleven. And we love them. So, we are moving. Wow! I said it again…it gets easier.
We are moving to a wonderful house, not all the "way out west"...but closer. It is a house with a wide front porch and a tree-filled yard. It is a house with a little elementary school at the end of the street with playgrounds and a soccer field. It is a house where the girls can wrestle with their new puppy, Mollie. It is a house where they can go from the living room to the kitchen without these beloved squeaky floors announcing their every move to a very patient downstairs neighbor.
I am learning to let go of even the most wonderful things when it is right. It seemed easier when I was younger. I could harvest our treasures, give away what was extraneous to survival, pack the rest (mostly books...some things never change) and head towards the next outpost with a spirit of adventure. I have become a bit clingy. Okay, so not just clingly, more accurately, it's like I'm wrapping my arms around the newel post and sobbing. But with my family's help I am making easier and more rapid strides towards what is right for our "truth" today. Today we are, happily and gratefully, the parents of eleven year old twins. Today, we are a family with a new puppy.
This is our truth and my youthful self can make easy and rapid strides towards all that embraces and appreciates where God has led us…today. God will unfold tomorrow, God will grant me the serenity to accept His gifts of grace. God will gently hold my hand. He will tenderly pry open my fingers so that I can begin to let the once beautiful petals of yesterday's fresh, fragrant gifts scatter like seeds into the fertile soil of tomorrow's lessons in grace, opportunities for growth…and accept the treasures of today.
Last week the new house got coats of poached pear and robin's egg, prairie grass and willow tree on her wall. Bookcases will soon line her walls and her wood floors will be scrubbed and polished till they throw the light from her windows onto tables tops and into cozy nooks for reading. Soon she will be the flower clutched tightly in our hearts. Grown from the seeds of home we have sewn in yesterday's hopes that our children would always know how much we love them.
May your surrenders today be sweet with serenity...and His gifts bring you peace,