31 Days of the Almost-Empty Nest: Dizzy

The sky is white this morning and outside the leaves of the maple sway to invisible music. The weatherman tells me showers are on the way but all I need do is step outside and taste the wind to know this. Rain is my love language with God—the steady unspooling of the sky always comes as invitation to burrow deep into his heart.

I am trying to let go of worry but sometimes it ambushes me. The calendar is filling up quickly and all I want to do is sit and study the sky. I was remembering yesterday how, as children, we would hold our arms out and twirl and twirl until we fell down from the dizzy. Now I avoid that wavery feeling of out-of-balance as much as possible. How was falling down ever fun?

I keep remembering Teddy’s first day of kindergarten. Jeffrey was only three and he and I were driving past the grade school in the middle of the day. There was a lot of road construction and traffic came to a dead stop with our minivan square in front of West Teays Elementary. Suddenly, I looked over at the building and realized my baby boy was in there; that for the first time in his life I had no idea what he was doing, or thinking, or feeling.

I said a prayer for him, for me, right then and there, in the middle of that traffic. Out loud. Little Jeffrey piped up from the back seat, “Hey! You can’t pway in the cawr!”

“Oh, honey,” I said. “You can pray anywhere. Any time. All the time.”

I’ve been praying a lot.

At night, I take Jeff’s hand and we pray for our boy together. We pray for our family. If we do things right, change is a certainty in life. This is part of our design. How can we grow without changing seasons? Outside, the first red colors of fall are kindling the fires of my heart. I feel I might burst into flame any moment. This dance of flames is not unlike the twirling I did as a girl—the tizzy, the dizzy, the danger … Do I trust that gentle hands will hold me if I fall? Will I laugh as I the flames lick my ankles; will I delight in letting go of control?

I am learning to walk through this strange out-of-balance feeling. I am learning to open my hands and let joy fill them, even as I still carry that soft ache of missing the days when my name was forever on their lips.

To listen to this story, scroll down. 

Almost Empty

I’m writing in community with the thirty-one dayers. Women all over the world are joining together in the month of October to write every day about something they’re passionate about. Check out some of the other writers here. So much good stuff. 

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Comments

  1. says

    Oh, I LOVE your writing so much. I read the first paragraph out loud to H from my phone while we were sitting in the living room together. And then I said, “I can hear her voice when I read this.” And imagine how delighted I was when I discovered I CAN hear your voice reading this beautiful piece of writing! You brought back some childhood memories of twirling. And yes, why did we ever think falling down was fun? I think I’m a crazy woman to write every day while I’m finishing a book. I may not make it but for now, I’m taking it one day at a time. Love you!!

    • says

      Thank you, Shelly :). That’s the sweetest thing to say. I added the audio on a whim, and hope to do so on the days I’m not at the hospital and have more time. Yes, you might be a little crazy for doing the 31 days challenge while finishing your book! But that’s why we love you so 🙂

  2. Paula Gamble says

    This is so beautiful, Laura. I love rain too. And “I am learning to walk through this strange out-of-balance feeling. I am learning to open my hands and let joy fill them…” despite the pain. This encourages me so much! You are walking THROUGH and God is with you. I love you.

    • says

      I. Love. You. Your words always make my heart sing. You are such a blessing to me, Paula. (((hugs))) (and thanks for that voxer tip! It has helped me be less clumsy in voxing!)

  3. says

    I’m with you, Laura, I don’t like feeling out of balance, and I sure don’t like falling down. But I do trust Him to catch me when, inevitably, I do. Praying for you, for grace in this season of change.

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