penciled in

Something you've probably never heard me say before:  "I'm reading this book..."

As I child, I was burning through 1 or 2 a week.  Since hitting the foreign mission-field, and even more so since having Lily, I can count how many books I've ready, aside from His, on one hand.  Till yesterday.

I saw someone say something good, I don't even remember, on Facebook a few weeks ago about this one:

I looked over it, shrugged, too busy, and moved on.

Randi ran into me at church Sunday and pulled out a pile of books she was finished with and graciously stuffed them into a canvas bag for me, and I didn't think to tell her I don't have time for reading, because if SHE has time for reading with her two busy boys, I don't have time to tell her my excuse.  Additionally, the whole moment felt very NORMAL and FRIENDY, receiving old books between picking up kids at Sunday School, two things I very much so miss and long for being always the visitor and worse, always "the missionary".

Wasn't till we got back to Sharon's that I found the very same book in the stack, dog-eared and peaceful looking.

The old reader Stacey, the one who would stay up all night with a good book and not even be sorry the next day, is rapidly emerging as I tried to devour the first chapters and play Sofia The First dolls with Sofie at the same time on the plane last night.

Yesterday she was born in Africa and losing to an eating disorder, today she is watching her mum die of cancer and dealing with her grandma's suicide, and all throughout this vulnerable memoir, Emily is losing and finding her faith, always frustrated at who she thinks God is and always emerging fresh with hope over who she now realizes Him to be.

MAN, it's good.  I'm not one of those fancy bloggers who writes reviews or has Google ads...I'm just telling you as a sister that whoever you are, if you love good writing and need reminded that God is in the middle and on the messy edges, you've got to get into this book. 

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Our time is drawing rapidly to a close.  There are 20 people I haven't seen that I still really want to.  Rick and Carol and Molly and Trish, Elisa and Maria, Craig and Deb, and Jenn, Erika and Lydia...the Millers (which ones?  ALL of them) and Aunt Deb and Gladys...Dodo and Bubba.

There are 20 things I haven't done all summer that I still really want to.  GO ON A DATE.  Go to the Columbus Zoo, take the girls to the fair, which Matt will never understand and I will never feel summer was fully summer without.  Walk around Easton, work in the yard.  Feel rested.  

There are 20 things we really NEED to do that still haven't happened.  Renew my driver's license, all go to the dentist, do back to school shopping before we can't, buy a few things for our new year in Haiti, get some prescriptions filled, research more on Chikungunya, a painful virus that has attacked nearly every family, missionary and native, we know in Haiti over these past months, and figure out what we can do to (PLEASE) avoid it.  

The reality of our summer life, which is really the same reality of our Haiti life, is dawning painfully again:  It's not all gonna happen.  I'm going to feel sad and guilty and remorseful.  

I'm not going to leave thinking: "We did it!  Success!"  I will be on a plane very soon fully aware that despite doing FAR too much, we didn't do it all, we didn't see everybody, we didn't spend enough time with enough people, it didn't all shape up like we hoped.  

As much as I can profess boldly and honestly that WE. HAVE. DONE. OUR. VERY. BEST...It still doesn't feel like it was enough.  I still feel like I have failed.

We finally got  the girls down after our flights at 11:30 pm last night, and this morning when dad called to see what we want to do this evening, all I can think to say is PAJAMAS, which isn't actually an activity.  When Lily asks what we are doing today in the middle of loads of laundry, she adds, "please don't say carseats!"  When I look at our planner trying to find a place to make one more thing happen, that I truly WANT to happen, I want to cry.  

So, I'm back to reading Emily's story.  Because I can see so clearly in the middle of so much brokenness that God is meeting her.  and is BEAUTIFUL.

And as He is, He is meeting me...no carseats, in pajamas, not even penciled in.

Praise the Lord.