Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Take it to the Garage

Life sails along without a hitch for a few seconds a week, a few days a year. The rest of the time things get messy, muddy.

Loverby and I stopped today and took a breather. Our marriage and our life needed a tune-up. It is painful and uncomfortable to put it up on the hydraulic lift and look underneath. Every thing's exposed. The wear, rust and deterioration are obvious.

Loose bolts have to be tightened. Sputtering mufflers need replaced. Tires get worn out and lose their grip. Fluids lose their viscosity. Parts need lubed. Chips in the windshield need stopped before they turn into cracks. Wipers need replaced to clean properly.

If feels overwhelming to take our marriage and life, individually and as a couple, into the garage and deal with it, but it is the only way to have the quality of life that is worth living. It is the only way to have enough leftovers to give away to a hurting hungry world.

Our garage is the marriage bed with the door locked and the lights turned down low. The garage isn't the place for movie set sex.

It is the place for tears, affection, safe conversation, confession, dreams, and naked truth. Needs are expressed, wants and desires are spoken of out loud, failures are forgiven, prayers sent, disappointment heard. Hopes are risked, requests asked for, depression admitted, fears quieted. Feathers smoothed. Tears wiped.

When we take the time to go to the garage, we realize how much we miss playing, teasing, flirting, smiling, and especially.....laughing. Mostly, we remind ourselves to relax and not take everything so seriously. We remember again that  beauty saves the world, not worry.

We remember that it takes only a little bit of creative thinking and planning to bring a romantic moment to fruition.

When the lift sets us down on the floor, our thankfulness leaves us purring.

P.S. Our mechanic doesn't charge a thing. He has a mysterious way of sending notifications for when it is time for a tune-up. They don't come with a stamp....

Sunday, January 22, 2012


Loverby and I went over to visit a friend who is on the downhill side of radiation and chemo. Ten more sessions. It was a slushy morning yesterday. I was starting to get cabin fever from being cooped up in the aftermath of a lovely snow storm. The melt hasn't been so lovely. When you're miserable, they say visit someone more miserable. We came to the wrong house. She wasn't. Miserable, that is. 

Her old and worn Lutheran hymnal was lying open on the footstool by the couch where she spends most of her days. Alongside it was a box of well used recipes. Some were clipped from vintage magazines, others were hand written. A few were e-mail copies. 

I thought of Elizabeth Elliot saying....the new choruses are fine, but it is the old hymns which best get us through the dark night. 

We sat side by side on her couch and sang every old hymn we could recall. Acapella. They weren't perfectly pitched, and some ended on a different key than we started with. We kept a brisk tempo. A few brought tears. Two braced us with new courage. The writers, some from the 1700's had been in the smack dab middle of some sort of major troubles. We closed that old book feeling like we had just imbibed ..........comfort, straight, from comforters who knew precisely what they were talking about. 

When we started going through the recipes, each one reminded us of someone, a gathering, or a time. Loverby sat by tasting and smelling every dish without gaining a pound. He stopped short of drooling. 

I left with sensory loaded gifts, momentos tangible and intangible. Thanks my friend. 

Thursday, January 19, 2012


I greatly 
admire the brave
who try the 
latches on their
 lift it, 
and fly 
to freedom. 
They show 
me how to

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

January Bleau

It seems like everyone
around me is feeling
winter's varied shades 
and hues of blue.

Navy blue pulls down
night. Steel leaves you
cold. Silver mist winter
kills. Aqua marine likes
to dunk and drown.

Saffires, ceruleans, indigos, 
Prussians, and cobalts
don't practice birth control
during the doldrums. The 
way they multiply and  
intermarry scares me. 

There is a blue neither 
bleak nor wearisome. 
The color of God's glory
is periwinkle. 

Drench me. 

Please Pass the Poetry

Send it to the right
with your left hand 
where my right hand 
will pick it up so our 
shoulders don't get 
jumbled while I
 transfer it to my left hand 
and heap my plate
before I pass it  
to the right with 
my left where they
grab it with their right 
heaping their plate
from the left hand
before they pass it 
on to the right
 until it has gone 
all around the table 
and we sit back 
full bellied. Wait a spell, 

let it settle before 
you ask for seconds. 

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Aibileen Says

You is: 







I took liberties and added a few other things she might have said to Mae Mobley and you and me. From The Help by Katherine Stockett. We all need an Aibileen in our lives. Often. To remind us of the truth. Amen.