Saturday, December 19, 2015

And NPR just clicked on, once again.

For God alone my soul in silence waits. Psalm 62:6


It is never silent at the Voelkel home.

But if I am still and listen very carefully, I can hear the murmur of the rooftop heater.

Because Dustin right away rode his bicycle over after dropping off E. at school yesterday. And when I asked my brother Scott who knows stuff like this for a recommendation, he said that Dustin is the best furnace man in Tucson. And that first sentence has a lot of prepositions and adverbs.

Thank you.

And this morning while my coffee was getting ready to bubble, I replaced the burned-out strand of living room white twinkly lights. I went to three stores yesterday and only found barren shelves. But Alan went to Home Depot last night to return a barely used pipe wrench and bought me a box of 150 bulbs last night. And some white flowers that he put in a vase.

Thank you.

And Elizabeth sewed Manuel’s stocking together yesterday while I worked on Adam’s. And I am pretty sure she has never done this before but she fitted red, green and white like an Italian flag across the top and there is the coolest fringe icicling down, and now it is hung up with the rest of them, by the chimney with care.

Thank you.

And Nicole dug into her storehouses of fabrics and yarns and beads and cut open a bracelet to pour off colored beads to use as baubles on the felt Christmas tree I was stitching. And she volunteered to go pick up a Brooklyn Pizza for me because I was pretty tired but it was okay because I already had a chicken in the crockpot.

Thank you.

And Dre and Adam came over for dinner Thursday night and we ate pork loin simmered in leftover mulled drink and chopped cabbage and crisped tortillas and I opened an early gift from her: three canvased paintings of her three favorite memories with her momma. A quiet conversation of hope at next door Falora’s over black potato and date pizza drizzled with truffle oil and a free bottle of Chianti because we brought over Jefferson Starship to spin on his record player, a magnolia from our road trip visiting kinfolk south of the Mason-Dixon line where we ate dinner with Uncle Bill and Emmy at The Bell Meade Country Club, met with Ellen on a Caney Fork boat dock, just down the river from the boys camp, wended through the very Great Smokey mountains and read handwritten letters from my cousin dying of AIDS in an ‘80s isolation which was a pretty lonely place to be. And under the Brooklyn Bridge. We went for a lot of walks along that Brooklyn Bridge pathway and she also took me to see the Donmar Warehouse presentation of Julius Caesar; Dre bought my ticket so Cesar was stabbed twenty-three times in my rather surprised lap.

Thank you.

And if I listen very carefully, I can hear the murmur of His love.

And last night I fell asleep once again during the movie on the wall. Surprise. But Alan and Manuel and Daniel and Elizabeth made lots of popcorn in the old aluminum pot and watched the Grinch Who Stole Christmas. And the opening scenes are filled with Seuss-creatures elbowing and poking and scrambling and reaching and grabbing to the tune of Jingle Bells blaring in the background. And it reminded me how tired I was so I went to sleep thinking of to do lists and moving the couches and cleaning out cupboards so there is more room to store stuff and oh yes we are doing a face painting and Christmas carols at the refugee apartments at two. And I have a lot to get done before then.

However, if I listen very carefully, I can hear the murmur of His love.

And Daniel just yawned and stretched his way into the living room and is sitting on the couch staring at the empty fireplace because Manuel scooped out all the ashes last night. He has one more presentation before the semester’s end and we all listened to his powerpoint presentation last night because he gets nervous. And Jack and Pippen just delivered the morning headlines about the U of A football game.

And if I listen very carefully, I can hear the murmur of His love.

Be still.

My soul waits for the Lord.

Lord God, almighty and everlasting Father, you have brought me in safety to this new day: Preserve me with your mighty power, that I may not fall into sin, nor be overcome by adversity; and in all I do direct me to the fulfilling of your purpose; through Jesus Christ my Lord. Amen.

Your purpose; through Jesus Christ my Lord.