fruitcake

sleeping with bread

So, tonight was the night that we took all of the kids Christmas shopping. Several years ago, after getting sick of wading through the piles of dollar store toys which the children purchased for each other every year, we got the bright idea of having them draw names. That way, each child only feels responsible for getting one of their siblings a present. Kids like it because it means they get a better present. Moms and Dads like it because it means less stuff to find a place for after the big day passes.

Making a trip to the store that includes everyone can be quite the experience. I was not looking forward to doing it during the Christmas rush. Amazingly, it turned out well for two major reasons – older kids and cell phones.

As we were driving home in the car, I began pondering which bread I wanted to use as my pillow this evening. A food network special solved this question for me – of course, it has to be fruitcake. Logically then, I simply must speak about connection. Okay, so maybe it isn’t a logical progression to the average soul, but I never claimed to be average.

Connection. While wandering the aisles of the store without children (again, thank you cell phones), I felt a very sure sense of connection. My husband and I got to spend some very rare weekday time together with each other – laughing at some items, frowning at others. One particular wall clock which was designed like a seat cushion gave us quite a few minutes of enjoyment. But, not only did I feel connected to him, I felt a very strong bond with my children who were in other aisles of the store. The little waves of hello when we happened to cross paths brought several smiles to my lips. It helped that everyone was actually behaving in a civilized fashion this evening (another rarity). I needed this.

For the past week I have felt very disconnected. I will not call it hopelessness because the one connection I did constantly feel was that between me and God. But, I have felt very separate from everyone and everything else. Some of that was undoubtedly due to being computerless. Still, I think it quite possible I would have been withdrawn for the week even without the technical difficulties. Contemplation creates a myriad of thought-words, but they are still in their infancy and must be sheltered from the external world. Observation jump-starts philosophical ponderings late into the night, but the keys on the keyboard remain untouched – the lips remain still.

God is speaking quietly into my heart. He whispers of mercy and grace – of my need to give myself a break. He murmurs to me reminders of the creative abilities He gave me, and He nudges me toward letting go of the notion that I must always follow the text so closely.

The last line of crocheted stitches connects to the first with a simple loop – full circle- disconnection becomes connection; solitude becomes union.