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smiles.

Back when we were dating, a song emerged as “ours” in the way songs do as couples travel through life together.  It was by a small band that only existed for a short period of time, but whose CD I borrowed from her all the time.   The title was “You Make Me Smile”, and yes…we often got sappy to it.  But it communicated so much of our early relationship and still today.  I often traveled in a band throughout college, and during the time we spent apart there were many moments where the thought of her, or surprise visit would brighten my face in great ways.  I would’ve never imagined it has now become a bit of a “Family Song”, offering a new perspective when sung/heard by or for our children.  But as any parent knows…..our children have the ability to make us smile.

Often in simple ways…

Our 5 year old, as we’re walking up to the playground, singing “Time is tickin’ away!  Tick Tick Tickin’ away!!”  Granted, we’d just ridden in my car where my incredible cassette-player was pumping out incredibly solid standards of Christian rock.  So she doesn’t know all the words to “Jesus is Still Alright” yet….she’s got time.

Our 8 year old, breaking in on a grown-ups version of charades, grabs a slip of paper to write down a name.  She’s giggling like she’s just written down something hilarious.  I’m thinking a vague cartoon character of some sort.  Maybe a common princess.  But she’s so excited to have that name in the mix, she actually stays and joins the game with us.  So who did she write down?  Pavel Datsuk.  One of the greatest Detroit Redwings to ever perform magically with the puck.  Well, actually she wrote “DASUK”, but we’ll give her time.  Those European names can be tricky.

One of the coolest moments from this past week, however, came from our 6 year old.  It was in the midst of dinner, before we began to carve our pumpkins.  The only night all week where we had no commitments, we had looked forward to a nice relaxing family time together.  Sarah had made a pot roast so tender, you could spread it on bread if you needed.  The whole house smelled of comfort and tranquillity.   We were all sitting down, and just barely keeping the girls reigned in to eat together, as they were so excited to be done and move on to dessert and pumpkin carving.  Sophie gets up and runs into the kitchen, I almost yell but realize she’s refilling her water cup and I calm down.  That’s when it happens.

“OH MAN!!  You guys have GOT to come see this sunset!!  It is soo beautiful!!”   And so, just like that, we all collectively sat our forks down, and followed her call to the kitchen.  Sure enough, it was quite pretty.  Pretty enough that we all went upstairs to get a better view above the neighborhood.  image1(2)

It wasn’t long before we all had breathed in enough of the wonder and beauty of a perfectly pink sunset that could never be captured fully by an iPhone.  We slowly made our way back to the table, and back into the rhythms of a busy fall night.  (did I mention this was also bath night?)   But several times this week, I’ve remembered that moment our 6 year old called our whole family to come and appreciate the beauty of what God was painting on the horizon.  These girls make me smile….

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On a slower Autumn…

With school sports, academics, and holidays on the horizon – words like these are incredibly important to be challenged by…this is stolen from a recent e-newsletter by the folks over at the Common English Bible.
“If you believe, as I do, that Earth’s turning, the shifting of the kaleidoscope from one hour to the next, across the arc of sunlight and night shadow, across the seasons of the year, is God tapping us on the heart, whispering, “Behold the Beautiful, I’ve made this just for you, this dappled sunbeam, this birdsong of the dawn, this crack of lightning in the offing,” then it’s whole-body meditation to immerse yourself in the blessing of autumn, Season of Awe.

Be it slicing zaftig pear, or plopping on a mossy log deep in golden woods, be it gathering apron load of acorns or plucking pumpkin from the farmer’s field, October’s days invite us to harvest the bountiful. To begin the deepening toward winter. To stock the larder with all we’ll need to make it through till springtime comes, and with it the rebirth of that holy season.

I’ve made a quiet practice of nodding to the wonders of each interlude of time. I resist the urge to hunker down inside. I nudge myself out the door, into the shriveled diminishment that is the autumn garden, into the boggy woods where trees undress, where naked boughs finger toward the heavens. Where the stripping down reminds me to drop my own unnecessary armature, invimage1(1)ite in the Sacred. 

I find autumn to be the season when faith is sown all around. On bent knee, we tuck bulbs deep into the earth — that’s faith galore, surrendering to winter’s slumber, believing that come the vernal sun, the shoots will poke through loam, will bloom and nod, will glory us in hallelujah hours. 

Some say this is the wabi-sabi season, so defined as that stretch of time that pulses with “the beauty of sadness, and the sadness of beauty.” I find breathtaking poetry in the imperfection and impermanence of the dwindling all around — the light, the leaves, the southbound flocks who carry song to where we cannot hear it any longer. Is this not spine-tingling reminder to embrace our own imperfections and impermanence, to cherish all the more the hours that are ours?

Revel in the jewel-toned tapestry of autumn, in all its luminescence and its shadow. 
Breathe deeply October’s prayer: Come star-stitched night, tiptoe beneath the heavens’ dome, wrap yourself in the cloak of Glorious Creation and Creator. Behold the Beautiful. God’s made this just for you.”
This meditation is by Barbara Mahany, author of the new book  Slowing Time: Seeing the Sacred Outside Your Kitchen Door. From the front pages of the Chicago Tribune to her revered page-two columns, Mahany has opened her heart and told stories that have drawn in thousands of readers for decades.