Let me just start this post by saying I'm a wee bit off my game these last few weeks. I don't know if it's the heat or the perpetual state of vacation we've been in but I've been a little bit squishy. Mind/body and spirit squishy. I'm constantly tripping over cats and small children and I can't remember simple details. I'm running into obvious things like the refrigerator. I had to look up refrigerator because I spelled it wrong even after three attempts. I serve a do-it-yourself yogurt bar and call it dinner. I have out of town guests over and I forget to buy coffee or milk or cereal. I tell them that they should just go to the Waffle Window. I've forgotten to put the icee pops in the freezer and the kids just have to drink them like kool-aid. Ben's been giving me strange looks and saying things like, "Can you just try and remember where you put the (fill in the blank)?" But I just shrug my shoulders and smile. Because until Falls colorful branches hook me back in to schedules and socks and birthday party details I will be lacksadaising it in the late afternoon sunshine. And on Wednesday that looked like a station wagon loaded up with paints, paper, an easel and one giddy five year old with an eye for abstract expressionism.
I think bravery can present itself in many forms throughout childhood. Maybe in the lonely walk across a crowded lunch room or in the getting up and keeping on of a fallen soccer player on a muddy field. But sometimes it can be in the pallet of acrylics staring you in the face. In the gathering up of all the fears that tell you you'll get it wrong and putting paint to paper, not knowing the results. There were some tears as expectations weren't realized but there was also a lesson whispered in the ear. That beauty is yours for the taking.
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