Postless Friday
by Susan.
Hello blogging world,
It's Friday, and I'm supposed to be "up here". It's only one day of the week; it's not much to ask. But I didn't make it this week. Not by a reasonable time, anyway. (We shoot for 12:00a.m.).
Why?
Well, I spent much of the day on my feet yesterday, in front of people, which though envigorating to my heart and soul, is more than a little draining physically. I came home after cell group tired and ready to hit the pillow, but still planning to make a sidetrip to the computer on the way.
As I poured myself yet another cup of decaf. (I'd already had several throughout the evening) the kitchen door opened behind me and in walked Abby.
We have always called Abigail our "middlest" child, simply because she is smack dab in the middle of her siblings. She has four older and four younger. Sometimes we worried about her. Abby is quiet and reserved, but like her Aunt Brenda, whose name she inherited as her middle name (Abigail Brenda) she has a quiet sparkle. In a crazy-full household of nine, though, sparkle wasn't always enough to get the attention she needed and deserved. We worried sometimes. We even called her "the lost child" a time or two - because she seemed to be happy to fade into the crowd. We did our best, and we worried.
In her early twenties, her dad took ballroom dancing lessons with her. They both excelled, and developed a relationship that had perhaps been lacking in some ways in her younger years. (It's never too late.) Abby's never been bitter though. She is accepting and joyously embraces life. She is obscenely talented. She can master anything - without the effort others seem to need to put into it. The dancing is only one example. This year she took a notion to plant the "Hugh Saunders Memorial Garden" (thinking of her grandfather - my dad) and in her first attempt at vegetable gardening, she had an impressive yield. She can draw a horse that will take your breath away (you can "see" the life rippling under its skin), she can catch a tune faster than lightning and she sings like a bird; she harmonizes to complicated melodies as easily as breathe. She flies down difficult trails on her mountain bike, beautiful to look at, fit and strong, and wildly feminine.
Abby has been happy to drift along with whatever life brings - and although there may be disadavantages to that sometimes, it's also an important part of what make her "her", and I wouldn't have it any other way. She seizes each moment that life brings and lives that moment to the fullest. Her neices and nephews adore her. Of course they do. She has time for them. And she accepts each one for the special gift to the world -and to her life - that they are.
She came in and we sat at the kitchen table. I mostly listened for once, my heart bursting with feeling for this beautiful woman, this daughter of mine who is accepting of whatever life brings, and whoever joins her on the journey. I listened, and I loved, and I promised to pray.
Abby is a welder in a local auto part manufacturing plant, and last night, when she dropped in on her way home, after her evening shift, I made sure I was all ears. She doesn't quickly or easily open her heart to share her innermost thoughts, so when she does, special person that she is, it's worth setting aside any agenda I might have at the time. Like writing a blog post.
So thankyou, dear reader, for listening to the reasons why I wasn't at my post last night. And now that you know Abby just a little, I'm sure you understand. :)
Susan.
Hello blogging world,
It's Friday, and I'm supposed to be "up here". It's only one day of the week; it's not much to ask. But I didn't make it this week. Not by a reasonable time, anyway. (We shoot for 12:00a.m.).
Why?
Well, I spent much of the day on my feet yesterday, in front of people, which though envigorating to my heart and soul, is more than a little draining physically. I came home after cell group tired and ready to hit the pillow, but still planning to make a sidetrip to the computer on the way.
As I poured myself yet another cup of decaf. (I'd already had several throughout the evening) the kitchen door opened behind me and in walked Abby.
We have always called Abigail our "middlest" child, simply because she is smack dab in the middle of her siblings. She has four older and four younger. Sometimes we worried about her. Abby is quiet and reserved, but like her Aunt Brenda, whose name she inherited as her middle name (Abigail Brenda) she has a quiet sparkle. In a crazy-full household of nine, though, sparkle wasn't always enough to get the attention she needed and deserved. We worried sometimes. We even called her "the lost child" a time or two - because she seemed to be happy to fade into the crowd. We did our best, and we worried.
In her early twenties, her dad took ballroom dancing lessons with her. They both excelled, and developed a relationship that had perhaps been lacking in some ways in her younger years. (It's never too late.) Abby's never been bitter though. She is accepting and joyously embraces life. She is obscenely talented. She can master anything - without the effort others seem to need to put into it. The dancing is only one example. This year she took a notion to plant the "Hugh Saunders Memorial Garden" (thinking of her grandfather - my dad) and in her first attempt at vegetable gardening, she had an impressive yield. She can draw a horse that will take your breath away (you can "see" the life rippling under its skin), she can catch a tune faster than lightning and she sings like a bird; she harmonizes to complicated melodies as easily as breathe. She flies down difficult trails on her mountain bike, beautiful to look at, fit and strong, and wildly feminine.
Abby has been happy to drift along with whatever life brings - and although there may be disadavantages to that sometimes, it's also an important part of what make her "her", and I wouldn't have it any other way. She seizes each moment that life brings and lives that moment to the fullest. Her neices and nephews adore her. Of course they do. She has time for them. And she accepts each one for the special gift to the world -and to her life - that they are.
She came in and we sat at the kitchen table. I mostly listened for once, my heart bursting with feeling for this beautiful woman, this daughter of mine who is accepting of whatever life brings, and whoever joins her on the journey. I listened, and I loved, and I promised to pray.
Abby is a welder in a local auto part manufacturing plant, and last night, when she dropped in on her way home, after her evening shift, I made sure I was all ears. She doesn't quickly or easily open her heart to share her innermost thoughts, so when she does, special person that she is, it's worth setting aside any agenda I might have at the time. Like writing a blog post.
So thankyou, dear reader, for listening to the reasons why I wasn't at my post last night. And now that you know Abby just a little, I'm sure you understand. :)
Susan.
Comments
I love the name Abigail - it's on my shortlist of favourite names.
Happy ICLW!