Monday, September 5, 2011

I've Said Too Much, Haven't I?

:: Words are absent lately, mostly this past week. Partly because every time I sit to write, I'm thinking about this. And how I want to be there. How many memories are washed away, gutted, destroyed, and just gone. A few years ago, I wrote a song about the road I grew up on and a lyric in it said, "Murphy's river winding through the valley... Don't change every thing 'til I can come home again."

After the flooding, I texted a good friend back in Dallas and told him that apparently Murphy's river (Schoharie and Fox Creek) didn't care for my song very much, seeing as how she devastated most of the community.

He replied, "Or maybe she did...and she waited until you could go home again."

And I cried. 

Because what we all knew as home: the places we gathered to eat, where friends met up, where my friends grew up, where we went swimming in the hot, humid summers, got ice cream and shakes, tomato and mayo sandwiches on wheat; all of it, if it's not destroyed completely, will never be the same. 

:: Words are also scattered because now that all the transition and moving, packing and sorting, lifting and driving is over — I can't help but feel that familiar sense of "now we need to make this home." I have about three different blogs written up about wanderlust, moving, responsibility, making a home and the like. But in some ways, I think it's all empty and, perhaps, untested. I need to live and walk some things out before I go spouting off about them in my blog. It's so easy to write about things. So easy to analyze and come up with my position on things — theologically, culturally, relationally. But I don't want to just be a blogger who waxes poetic on life. I'd rather work things out in my story over some time before telling you how I see it. I think that's fair, don't you?

:: Words might also be elusive because I am parenting a toddler. Who talks a lot. And asks a lot of questions. Parenting is, hands down, the hardest thing I've ever done. It's also the most incredible adventure I've ever been on. Yet, when I go days without seeing another person over the age of three, all of my words and thoughts go inward. Silence feels more comfortable than cracking open my heart.

So that being said, it's September and I am ready for autumn. I haven't experienced a New York fall in seven years.

That's too long, people. Too long.

// linking up today with the Soli Deo Gloria Sisterhood


  1. I HEAR you! this so easy to write things on a blog..or even say them. SO easy and I have done it for years. Now God seems to be showing me to live them all real real circumstances..especially the hard ones.
    Oh girl..those days of toddlers and the incessant words..I used to wish them I wished I didn't:) You two are just precious!

  2. Friend, thank you for these words! I needed to be reminded to not want to wish these moments past. You are so encouraging!!

  3. yer nice. and brave. i think being a single mom is the bravest thing ever.i look forward to seeing your face this week…keep on keeping on… and if you need anything im here:)) the end.

  4. autumn - you're the best. really, we're just getting started and i'm already so thankful for you.

  5. Grief and trials -- they bring us to our knees. The emotions inside us well up and we aren't sure what to do with the overflow. Wherever the words are, inside or out, whether they are there or not, whether you have final resolution or are still up in the air, we remain your friends, sister. Praying for your community as it rebuilds.

  6. Jen - thank you so much for that. praying for you all too. we're praying for no rain for us, but buckets for you.

  7. I am sad for the devestation in so many parts of our country and world.

    Take your time creating a home . . . it can then be really fun.