Monday, Monday

I feel obligated to write something as it's been over a week since my last post. It's not that I haven't had anything to think or write about, but rather, perhaps I've had too much. We've reached a sort of crossroads as Danny's job has been terminated and we find ourselves counting our pennies.

In the past week, Danny's maternal grandfather and paternal grandmother have, independently, been touring the state of Florida. Jonny and Hana traversed the country for a friend's wedding. Gio began his new job at Americorp. My paternal grandfather fought for his life in a Hialeah hospital. A middleschool friend tagged me in a pro-choice diatribe that to this moment still has my stomach churning. What nerve! I skimmed a biography on Benjamin Franklin and another book on the fallacies of thought behind the emergent-church movement. We broke a fluorescent lightbulb and obsessed about how to clean mercury out of the carpet. Danny and I celebrated our fourth wedding anniversary at Macaroni Grill, with a gift certificate given by a friend who had no idea it was our anniversary. I've seen God's faithfulness dozens of times and have fallen short of his righteousness dozens of dozens. I attended an orthopedic appointment, a Bible Study, a moms playgroup, a housewarming party, and a football watching party. I "RSVPed" to two birthday parties. I don't quite know what to do with myself. The sense of disorganization is so pervasive that any attempt to correct it by doing things like washing the dishes or putting away laundry seems like too much effort. I cling to the calendar. Dominic and Noemie, however, took the news well.

The following are the lyrics to one of my favorite songs that applies as much now as at any season of life:

His Eyes (by Steven Curtis Chapman)
Sometimes His eyes were gentle
And filled with laughter,
Sometimes they cried;
Sometimes there was a fire
Of holy anger,
In Jesus' eyes.
But the eyes that saw hope in the hopeless,
That saw through the fault to the need,
Are the same eyes that look down from heaven
Into the deepest part of you and me.

Sometimes His voice comes calling
Like rolling thunder,
Or like driving rain;
And sometimes His voice is quiet,
And we start to wonder
If He knows our pain.
But He who spoke peace to the water
Cares more for our hearts than the waves,
And the voice that once said "You're forgiven",
Still says "You're forgiven" today.

Sometimes I look above me when stars are shining
And I feel so small;
How could the God of heaven and all creation
Know I'm here at all.
But then in silence He whispers,
"My child, I created you too
And you're my most precious creation;
I even gave my Son for you."

His eyes are always upon us;
His eyes never close in sleep.
And no matter where you go,
You will always be in His eyes, in His eyes.