Icing on the Cake

Not sure why, but this phrase has been coming to mind a lot lately. It could be that I have cake on the mind--specifically, leftover Frances Tornes cake from Luke's birthday bash. This is available only here in my small town, and I tell all who do not have ready access to this woman's magical cake: I am so sorry. You are missing out.

It's kind of a double entendre, this phrase in my mind. If the cake is good enough, it doesn't need the icing. And, if I think of my physical self, that would mean that the many things I just don't have time for right now (plucking eyebrows, painting nails, and a couple of other things I don't care to share,) don't matter. They are the icing on the cake, yes, but this cake is fine for now.

But I think it's the other way of thinking about "icing on the cake" that tells the true story of my life right now.

It's nice that my body got an awesome workout yesterday when I joined my league volleyball team for a double-header, but the icing on the cake was the mental workout it provided.

It was so wonderful to spend the afternoon and evening with a mature, tantrum-free, well-behaved Lily at the dentist office and running errands today, but the icing on the cake was the "date" it became, the laughter and conversation we shared, the reminder that, oh yes, God gave me a daughter, and I am ever grateful.

And finally, it's so nice that I got to see my girlfriends and drink some fabulous moscato on Monday night, but the icing on the cake was seeing one of those girlfriends let down her burden to laugh and relax for three beautiful hours while all of us poured love on her sweet daughter, who has shown us all what it means to want something so bad, it hurts.

It might be enough to live your life, but the icing on the cake is gratitude, service and humility.

Godspeed, fellow humans. Don't just be good, do good.

The Best is Yet to Come

I am wrapping up a blessed weekend. Shrek took the older two on a special trip, and I had the "babies," as I often call Colby and Luke, by myself. We stayed busy, but we also took time to do things like take a two-hour nap on Saturday afternoon, watch traffic from our comfortable and beautiful new canopy swing on the front deck and carefully study the ants with whom we're currently sharing our home.

I got some things done. I had some important conversations. I had some time to think. And, in the midst of sweet, happy dreams in my bed at Lake Tweet last night, this post formed in my head.

Something has clicked for me in my thinking.

I've decided the secret of life is to honor and appreciate the blessings of today while always believing the best is yet to come. It's a balance some people don't find. It's not wanting too much, but wanting enough. It has absolutely nothing to do with material things, and everything to do with things that cannot be measured or seen.

I've had several moments this week that I've filed in my memory for all time, several that have me wondering how the best is yet to be. There was last Saturday morning, when our king-size bed became the family bed for a sleepy cuddle with the kiddos, who joined us one by one. There was seeing our sweet, five-year-old friend Ava leading the cancer survivor lap at our local Relay for Life, fighting her own battle with grace and style. There's the way Colby automatically turns in to a big brother who talks baby talk for smiles from Luke and then kisses him with a tenderness I could not have imagined.

It can be hard to believe, given the blessings of today, that the best is yet to come, but I do believe it. Because I still want to make it big. I look forward to the friendships and protections forged among my grown children. I appreciate that there will be a day when Shrek and I have the time to look at each other and realize the stories, the moments, the history of our lives.

I see the present, and I raise you the future. Life is beauty and strife and everything in between, and, yet, I firmly believe, the best is yet to come.

Drinking from the Saucer

I have been thinking, a little under pressure, about what to write about tonight. On my way home from my first day of work in ten days, I was thinking of the quote, "I'm drinking from the saucer, because my cup is overflowing."

This was just before I picked up three hungry kids (one irate) from the sitter, drove the last leg listening to a temper tantrum, realized the ankle I twisted in volleyball resembled a ten-month-pregnant woman's cankle, was reminded of the vicious headache I had been sporting all day AND got snapped at by a grumpy husband after I finally made it home.

Whew! I was ready to throw the cup and saucer against the wall.

Alas, I have to give myself some credit here. One of my secrets to making my crazy, tragic, sometimes almost magic, awful, beautiful life work is that I don't stay mad long. I'm resilient as hell. I'm a force to be reckoned with, even when I'm mentally crouched in a corner after a day like today.

So, tonight, it's true. I'm looking past the trees to the forest. I'm drinking from the saucer because my cup is overflowing.

p.s. Our staycation was lovely.