Memoirs of a Moorings

I'll Take A Boy Please....Make That Two of 'Em!

“Of all the animals, the boy is the most unmanageable” ~ Plato

Growing up, boys bewildered me. I found them to be hard to put a finger on. I grew up with two of my godbrothers. On walks home, there was always a side adventure, walks through the mud instead of simply on the sidewalk and I could never understand why passing gas amused them so. Boys at school were no more understandable than the two godbrothers I hung around everyday at home. Boys at school liked to make farting sounds under their arms and lay down on the ground eyeing whose skirts they could peek up.

Early on, I decided that I never wanted to be the mother of boys. Too complicated. Too dirty. Give me a sweet little girl anytime. When I got married, a little girl came with the package and I loved browsing through girl section buying clothes for my stepdaughter. Cute little white sweaters stitched with flowers. Dreamy little dresses, tiny capris and sandals to match. I dreamed of bringing home a tiny, little baby girl wrapped in pink. Then I got the word that our first baby was boy. My first thought: what in the world am I going to do with a little boy.

Then he came.
And I fell head over heels in love with him.
A second baby in my belly.
Another boy.
And I fell even more in love with another boy.

And now I wonder how I could have not wanted boys.

I see little boys in the store. Running past our door down the street. And I just want to stop them and give them a hug. Kiss their cheeks. Relish in their boyness. I really love little boys. Sometimes when I'm out without my little ones and I see little boys, I just stop and look--enjoying every little thing about them.

I love their rough and tumble ways. How dirt is drawn to them like magnets. How they can make a toy of out literally anything. How play always involves loud noises and wrestling. How they can get food in their hair and up their nose. Their ability to make holes in the knees of pants and wear out new shoes in one week flat.

I used to look at little girls in church and see them sitting so quietly. Wondering why my little ones just cannot sit still. They are wired differently--and I love them because of that too.

Soon these little guys will become teenagers and men. Husbands and fathers. And it's so true: "A boy is the only thing God can use to make a man." May I always marvel at the mystery of boys and my miraculous love for them.

One Fine Beautiful Mess

 “Difficult times have helped me to understand better than before, how infinitely rich and beautiful life is in every way, and that so many things that one goes worrying about are of no importance whatsoever...” ~ Isak Dinesen (pseudonym of Baroness Karen Blixen. Danish Writer

Tonight, Rhyan accidentally spilled his box of crayons all over the floor. I immediately looked down and thought what a mess. He sensed my irritation and quickly apologized, but at second glance, I looked and thought, "how beautiful." I told him there was no need to apologize, it was simply an accident. And I quickly snapped this picture. Yes, the crayons were broken and scattered all over the floor, but the colors were vibrant, eye-catching--indeed a beautiful mess.

I wonder if that's what God sees when He looks down at our lives. Such beautiful messes. Each of us. We look at first glance and only see the ugly. The brokenness. The torn crayon paper. The box upside down. The unfulfilled dreams. Friendships disconnected. The empty promises. The heart-wrenching betrayal. The plans gone all awry. But God sees otherwise. He sees the beauty for ashes. The power rising from the pain. The crooked places that will soon turn into straight paths.

And I see it in my everyday life. Like my parent's divorce. That's the mess. But the beautiful is the love they still share. The way my mother loves my father and takes care of him....still. The ugly is my father in the hospital. The diagnosis: cancer. The strong daddy I knew is only in my memories. But the beautiful shines bright in his laughter, his love for his grandbabies. His reaching out to call and connect even while there is pain...fear of the future. Such a beautiful mess.

I think of Joseph the Dreamer in the Old Testament. His early life to most: a mess. His brothers scoffing at his dreams, dumping him in a ditch and leaving him for dead, then turning around and selling him into slavery. Being lied on, falsely imprisoned and simply forgotten. But the beautiful was always there hidden in the details. In the dreams that came true, in being the first in command, in walking in virtue and not giving in to  Pharoah's wife's sexual advances, and eventually becoming his brother's savior. A beautiful mess made even more beautiful by God's making all things work together for the good.

It's all about our perspective. The urban dictionary has coined a phrase called "beautiful ugly." Beautiful ugly is a term used in modeling, when a model has such striking or odd features that they could be considered quite beautiful or very ugly. This is especially rare, and highly desired, especially in couture shoots.

Beautiful uglies are rare--quite interesting. Yet our life is full of them. Let us remember that God can use what we deem to be an ugly mess and turn it around for His glory. All we have to do is offer it up to Him as it is. He'll clean it up and make it all beautiful! What beautiful mess can you offer up to Him today?

No More Blues

This morning, this kid was talking loud and feeling good. I like to start my morning soft and easy but he was not cooperating. A stark contrast to how he was Monday and Tuesday mornings. He told he had "the blues" those two days. The Monday morning blues, the wanna stay home blues, the runaway from home blues.

But today, when I asked him why he was being so loud, he said, "I've got the greens. The kind of greens that make you want to be Somebody. That's what you've been asking for right?"

I laughed out loud. Why,yes, that's what we've been asking for. He was reciting a line from a book his daycare provider reads: Yesterday I Had the Blues by Jeron Ashford Frame.  And Monday when he came in all grumpy, she said she wanted to see the greens. And today he delivered.

And it's rubbing off. I'm feeling pretty green myself too!

Truer Words Never Spoken

Was reading today about Brokenness on A Dusty Frame--one of my most favorite blogs in the whole world. She shares about how God is daily walking with her through her current trial of a husband incarcerated while she raises their son.

These words from her post resonated with me and literally jumped off the page:

"When God speaks to us it is a
gentle, loving, specific message with a goal to restore us.

When satan speaks it is loud and harsh

“You are worthless”
“You failed.”

May I always remember to listen for the still, soft voice.

Jumping Cliffs and Building Wings

"If we listened to our intellect, we'd never have a love affair. We'd never have a friendship. We'd never go into business, because we'd be too cynical. Well, that's nonsense. You've got to jump off cliffs all the time and build your wings on the way down." ~ Annie Dillard

I keep this tattered card posted on the bulletin board in front of my desk at home.

I've had it ever since I moved to Southern California in the mid-1990s. When I bought the card, I felt like it summed up my life. I wanted a reminder of reaching for what I wanted always. I knew this feeling all too well back then. I was a young, fresh-faced 20-something college graduate who felt the pull of the bright lights of Los Angeles. I packed up just about everything I had and headed from the Bay Area down the 5 freeway in my blue Volkswagen Fox--leaving behind all that was so familiar.

I didn't have a job or plan. Just a dream and a prayer. A long-time friend and I bunked up in USC's dorms for the summer while we both looked for work. I landed an administrative job that I couldn't stand. But it helped me to stay in the city that I loved so much. Those were exciting times back then. Discovering Hollywood, seeing celebrities every where we went, enjoying a very posh apartment in a swank part of town, meeting loads of new people. It was new, fresh and so unknown--just the way I liked it. I soon ditched the bunk job for a freelance gig that turned into a full-time editor position. I remember the day I applied. I saw the paper, loved what it was about, typed up a quick cover letter, attached my resume and dropped it in the mail feeling anxious because I really wanted the job.

Somewhere down the line, I feel like I've abandoned that young fresh-faced girl and her big city dreams for a woman who is doesn't take enough risks. Who moved to the safe lane. I want the young girl back. I want my boys to know that sometimes you have to go out to the limb to reach that sweet fruit.

Been thinking lots lately about taking leaps and building my wings on the way down. God's got me. What's to be afraid of!

Different - But the Same

"Our siblings. They resemble us just enough to make all their differences confusing, and no matter what we choose to make of this, we are cast in relation to them our whole lives long." ~Susan Scarf Merrell

While this one reads - the other one climbs in and out of boxes and laundry baskets.

So different and yet so much the same. 

Same in their affection for each other, their affinity for deafening, high-pitched screams and their ability to make my heart leap with love for them.