Who Knows

Lately I've been thinking a lot about whimsy, wonder, and duty. Those three words don't necessarily jive do they? Duty leaves little room for wonder and whimsy. Duty is a straight-laced list maker with a clipboard and a pen ready to check things off. Whimsy wears a twirly skirt, flip flops and flowers in her hair. Wonder is a bit like a breeze that takes you places only you know about because if you told anyone they would probably think you weird or that you have entirely too much time on your hands. Duty is front and center. Whimsy and wonder flit and flutter and not everyone is able to catch glimpses of them.

This summer during my morning tea times, I have completely given myself to whimsy and wonder. It's been kind of amazing. One morning I started with a list of words; enchant, beauty, expand, flourish, astonish, amaze, awe, and possible. Then two pictures sprouted up. One picture is of me on a blanket, perfect hair flowing down my back, sitting under a lovely, shady tree with all the above words set out around me. They speak to me like excited children, encouraging me to tell them stories about romantic heroes.

And so I did.

I based the heroes on my own children and their life situations. There's the wily ship captain with the strong and determined beauty by his side facing stormy seas and various adventures. There's the studious yet strong and handsome lord of the manor with his beautiful and accomplished wife beside him, both committed to the workings of the manor and devoted to all the people under their care. They have a precious baby girl who will carry on their legacy of care and devotion. Finally there is a mysterious, brave-hearted rogue who rides into a village on a white steed and is captivated by the beautiful and headstrong maiden. He's been loved by many but no one has held his attention until he beheld the lovely maiden, riding her own horse and perfectly able to match him step for step. He is not intimidated by her, and she doesn't need to be rescued. He wants an opportunity to acknowledge the strength he sees in her and build into it, while also protecting her vulnerabilities. If he can convince her of his worth, she will consent to a life together.

It's whimsical and wonderful and when I sit with the stories, I don't want to leave.

However.

Duty is always there. Always. He parades outside my door while I create my stories. He stands over me while I eat, clipboard in hand and whistle hanging from his neck. He marches and hollers and is simply ever-present.

And he has a brother.

Reality. Have you met him? He is blunt and to the point. "Yes. This is happening. No. You can't change it. This is here. This is now. Deal with it." It is as if he rages a little and when he finishes, it feels like a door has been slammed in your face and for a moment you are absolutely stunned. Your brain scrambles. You want to come up with a compromise or a more reasonable alternative but even if you beg and plead, nothing changes. The answer is no. Things can't be changed. What is, is what is.

Door slam. Gut punch. Hopes dashed.

Both boys showed up this week.

There was no singing, no wonder or whimsy, not even dancing showed up. There was barely time for my tea and my pen let alone space and opportunity to conjure up romantic heroes. My dear friend's father passed away this week and when I heard the news, whimsy and wonder simply disappeared. Reality got me with a sucker punch straight to my gut.

When you're doubled over trying to catch your breath who shows up to help give shape and structure? Duty. Duty may not be all bad. Duty wants to help. Duty wants to build some structure when nothing seems solid. If nothing else duty can always busy our hands with making a lasagna or a chocolate cake. At least it is something. Whimsy and wonder are delightful but not every moment is made for them. As much as we may hate it, duty never leaves and duty is dependable.

Although I had no idea how to 'do' for my friend, I can always find something to do. So I did. I came up with a list of action items for work and for home, things I could do to keep my hands busy when my heart was with my friend. It worked out well as this was a holiday week and I had five days of work to get done in four days.

But wait. The week had a bit more for me. I showed up at the track one morning to complete a workout and a young man was already there. I'm fairly certain he was under the spell of addiction and was possibly homeless. I do understand addiction and homelessness are everywhere, I simply had never encountered them in my little prairie town at 6:30am on a weekday. I left the track feeling ashamed for not doing more and thankful for my safety. As a woman those types of situations are difficult to navigate. I want to be safe and I want to help.

Reality and duty. Boys, I know you are not to be trifled with but maybe instead of pounding a door down you could lightly knock?

But wait. I told you I had pictured two things. We have the picture of me on my blanket under the tree surrounded by all my lovely words but I have one more picture to share. I'm holding a seed. I think it may be a hybrid of some kind. It has genetic qualities of hope, promise, and whimsy but it also carries qualities of duty, reality and dependability. I'm looking for a good place to plant it and I feel as if the search should be a group project because the tree this seed will grow into will not be only for me.

It is going to be a beautiful tree. It will offer rest, shade, and shelter, but also will be a place to explore, play under, and dream. It's solid. It's not going anywhere because it has deep roots, yet it moves and sways to the whims of the wind. Can you picture it?

So we have duty, his brother reality, and the sisters whimsy and wonder. We have a blanket under a tree where the words I've set around me have produced a wily sea captain, a dependable lord of the manor, and a mysterious rogue. I have a friend who just lost her dad. I have lists at work and responsibilities everywhere and somewhere out there is a young man who I hope and pray is well. What in the world does all this mean?

Do you really want me to answer that? I believe it may be best to see where all this could take you instead of me telling you where to go. But here is something I know for sure. I do know about a tree with the deepest of roots. It is a place of duty, sacrifice, a new reality, and loads of whimsy and wonder. It is a true shelter. It may be the only place we can go to both be audacious enough to wrap up in wonderful words and allow them to take us wherever they will, and to be confident enough to cry out when we are overcome with grief and doubled over with the heartbreak of unchangeable realities. It's the place we go when no matter what we feel, we simply trust in the fact that our cries are heard even when we don't feel it. It's a place of faith where the roots go deep and the branches reach high.

And. That is all I've got.

LORD,

I'm not sure what all of this means. I'm not sure what today is all about. Will you help us? Can even this very moment be shaped into something to bring you honor and praise? I pray it can. I pray it will because I know for certain that outside of you, nothing makes sense. Fill us. Restore us. Lead us. Prepare us for all that lies ahead and be glorified in the moment that is. Watch over all of our precious ones and hold them close.

We love you.

Amen.