I started thinking about you as soon as forecasts started to mention that
Harvey would head to Houston.
I worried.  I prayed.  I checked in.

As I watched the storm approach and I watched the impacts,
I worried and wondered some more.
I prayed without ceasing.
I checked in again and again.

I wondered how you were holding up.
How tired your husband was.  How the kids were coping.

I checked for updates continually.  I craved news about whether your house was dry, where you were, whether you had enough food, if a boat had come for you or if you were huddled on your rooftop with your husband and three small children.

Each update you posted was so important to me!

Through your updates, I knew that the kids were scared, but holding up.  That your husband was tired, but holding up.  That you  were struggling, but holding up.  That you had your evacuation bags packed.  That you evacuated to a neighbor’s.  That you eventually evacuated to stay with friends in a safe area.  That the kids were playing with friends.  That your husband was catching up on sleep.  That your friends would take care of you and minister to you.

What’s next, I wondered?

And last night at church, I kept you in thought as my congregation prayed for everyone impacted by the storm.
We listened to scripture, shared prayers and inspiration, and sang hymns.

This hymn, this poem, this prayer, touched my heart.
And my first thought was, “I have to send this to G.”
“This sums up my prayers for her, and for all who are impacted by Harvey.”

Home
Rosemary Cobham

Home is the consciousness of good that holds us in its wide embrace;
The steady light that comforts us in every path our footsteps trace.

Our Father’s house has many rooms, and each with peace and love embued:
No child can every stray beyond the compass of infinitude.

Home is the Father’s sweet “Well done,” God’s daily, hourly gift of grace.
We go to meet our brother’s need, and find our home in every place.

*

Yes, houses are gone.  Belongings are gone.  Treasured things are gone.
But home is not gone.
The place where our thoughts commune with God is home.
And that place is definitely not gone.
It is is present.  It is comforting.
It is healing trauma.  It is impelling volunteers.
It is providing wisdom and courage to find the way forward.

*

You may not think of me as a friend.
I understand.  We’ve never met, after all.
I’ve been reading your blog for years. Since you share honest stories and photos of your professional and personal life, I have come to feel that I know you.

And I find myself automatically referring to you as “a friend of mine,” rather than as “a blogger whose blog I read.” I apologize if that seems presumptuous.  I do understand the difference between internet friends and real-life friends.  And I recognize that if we were ever to meet, we may not actually feel a connection.

Regardless, I send my prayers in the spirit of friendship.
And I will continue to read your blog (or tweets, during this period of crisis).
I will pray when needed, laugh when appropriate, and
nod in agreement when your words align with my thoughts.

Unless, or course, you decide to make your social media accounts private.
Then I will respect your privacy.

But today, I feel compelled to share the story of how I came to think of you as my friend, and to share one of the prayers that I offered in response to your prayer requests.

Sincerely,
Alison

 

Alice in Wonderland falls down a hole and finds a new world that is hard to escape.

Alison Kay Andrews thinks she will try out a font or two and falls into a world that is hard to escape, too.

This happens to me all the time!

Trying fonts is fun.  And creative.  And intellectual.  Each text has qualities that the font needs to express.  And it can take a while to find the right fit.

And when the right fit happens, it’s so wonderful!  Qualities appear on the page in visual form.  It’s a lot like writing (or painting or sculpting, or any creative process), really.  An idea exists.  The idea wants to express itself.  Sometimes it takes hours of editing and trial and error to express it.  Sometimes it just flows out from pure inspiration. Either way, it’s so satisfying when the idea is revealed and fully expresses itself at the end.

The end result brings beauty and order and clarity.  It spreads joy or solemnity, sparks the imagination or reinforces established information. Or all of those things, sometimes.

Even if you are just designing place cards.

This afternoon I unintentionally spent over an hour playing with fonts as I considered some texts that I might like to make up as wall art…but most likely will not make up as wall art. So was this a waste of time?

I think not!

It was wonderful.

My family can tease me all they want.  Font-land is one of my happy places.

 

Keep on going, and the chances are that you will stumble on something, perhaps when you are least expecting it. I never heard of anyone ever stumbling on something sitting down.

Charles F. Kettering

I am a homebody.

I am not confined or defined by my home. But I enjoy being in it.  And it has been my primary work/play space for the past 25 years.

But I think I’d like to experiment with that a little. Shift the balance a bit.

Try new things in new places and spaces.

See what I stumble across.

Home is likely to still be my center.

But maybe the radius will change.  And interesting new things will populate the area.

 

If you’d like to know more about the man quoted above, Charles Kettering, click here:

http://lemelson.mit.edu/resources/charles-f-kettering

I am at an inflection point.

In less than two weeks, my responsibilities will shift.  I will always be a full-time parent.  But I will no longer have any children living in my home.  During the college years, we had a revolving door rather than an empty nest.  Our children came and went every few weeks.  After college, one of them moved home for a year.  And then another one moved home for the next year.  Now the last one is making final arrangements for departure.

So, for the first time in 25 years, I will have a large degree of autonomy over my days.

Some of my activities will be the same: volunteer work, eldercare, home management.  Time with my husband; maintaining relationships with our children and wider family.

These things could easily expand to fill my days.  Maybe they will.  And maybe I will be ok with that.

But maybe they won’t.  Either because they won’t require that much time or because I will choose to put appropriate boundaries on them.

I am looking ahead to months of free-fall.   Of allowing myself the space to consider how to use my time.  Of trying things.  Of eliminating things.  Of being surprised by what I love and what I don’t love.

I am also looking ahead to a significant responsibility: to use this time wisely, usefully.

One thing is for sure: There will be a lot to think about.