History reenacted itself today, at our bay windows. History, or at least, Shakespeare. The tragedy was that of Romeo and Juliet, star crossed lovers. Huddled in front of the wood stove, I was busily composing, arranging and modulating, when suddenly THUMP. Josiah, always eager for distractions during Math time, was out the door in an instant and returned a moment later with a limp female cardinal. He was just beginning a Hamlet-style soliloquy when another THUMP made us both jump. Again the door fanned, and Josiah returned, his other hand gently cradling the shivering form of our dear Juliet’s mate, his crimson feathers ruffled. What sad circumstances drove this innocent pair to seek to dash their brains out against the unyielding glass of our bay windows, I can’t even guess. The tragic scene ended with the burial of the female, who had clearly departed this vale of tears, and the return of the male to the wild once he regained his composure and ventured off of Josiah’s hospitable finger.
About noon, the drizzling rain caught a cold and drifted into snowflakes, spreading a delicate blanket over the pine forest, the yard, the road and anything else not too warm to resist. “Enjoy it,” I was told, when I boasted of what I’d brought home from Kansas with me. “It doesn’t happen often.”
I accomplished three things today: First, I finished our family newsletter, a task that somehow descended on me close to ten years ago. Secondly, I finished my arrangement of “We Three Kings”, complete with my new passion: snare drum, and sent it out accompanied by my Christmas Wishes, a day late. Thirdly, I spent the entire day in my pajamas. Which was the most unique, surprising, unpredictable? The last, of course.
Everything is so different from how I expected it to be. My closest friends are not the ones I’d thought I’d spend the most time with. My emotions have turned upside down. My schedule, my projects are not what I had in mind. Sometimes I can’t help wondering what other murky things lie waiting to be revealed—ugly, unexplainable, painful? Or do they only seem unpleasant because I can’t fathom them? We have lived here less than three months and already the earth begins to shift beneath my feet. What does the Lord have in mind?
Lord, ‘tis Thou who plans my path
And Thou wilt lead me with Thy staff,
But shadows lurk, and demons call,
I fear I’ll lose Thee, most of all.
Break my legs, Lord, if Thou must,
To teach this willful lamb to trust,
Then lift and carry me each day
That I may know this is Thy way.