A Quiet Saturday

School has started with a vengeance. That doesn't mean it's been bad, just intense. The Latin instruction to give, the new kids to catch up, the unmotivated kids to frighten, the chapel music to prepare, the lunch meetings to lead, and the parents to befuddle... I mean, to inform. On top of all this, the house really does seem to be mostly sold (go, Jay and Emily!!) and so we're house-hunting with real intentionality. We went out with Greg last evening again and looked at a couple. While I still do think it is a buyer's market, it is getting tighter again. The incredible deals at the bottom of the heap are perhaps not quite as incredible anymore. But I continue to hold out hope that God will bring us something amazing (or at least adequate).

So I had fully intended to spend a little time at home this morning and then look at properties again in the afternoon. But Tara thought that was an unnecessary endeavor ("Why should you waste all that gas to drive into town when I'm already here?") so I stayed home with all of my boys. We had a very quiet day.

Around 9:30 we loaded up trash and headed to the dump. Except for a steady drizzle falling while we recycled, it was quite uneventful. The boys played Legos a lot and helped out with this or that when asked. And I plowed through significant amounts of paperwork and administrivia while taking care of three fellers under age 8.

Tara came home about mid-afternoon from the garage sale and we renewed the discussion about houses, children, fall classes starting tomorrow at church, and real estate agents who either do or don't accomplish much at all.

As I was putting the boys to bed tonight, a hymn that I had learned early in my childhood came back to me. I'm going to type the lyrics for you here, partly because they are beautiful, and partly because I'm proud that my brain has held them largely without use for more than 25 years. I think my mother used to sing this simple hymn without provocation. She sang a lot until the cancer got into her vocal cords and made it difficult to sing without coughing. I still grieve. I'm sorry. Here it is.

Oh, that the Lord would guide my ways
To keep His statutes still;
Oh, that my God would grant me grace
To know and do His will.

Order my footsteps by Thy word
And make my heart sincere;
Let sin have no dominion, Lord,
But keep my conscience clear.

Make me to walk in Thy commands
'Tis a delightful road;
Nor let my head or heart or hands
Offend against my God.


I may have mixed around the order of the verses or a word here or there, but I think I got the gist of it. It's funny how I can celebrate the present while simultaneously grieving the loss of how things used to be. See Ezra 3:12.