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The day started with rain on my face, a much welcome change to the so far unseasonably warm November. The open windows usher in fresh air, and I put the tea kettle on.

I'm thankful for
finally, fall?,
Our God will fight for us.
my pastors, who each pop their head in to greet me,
potato soup on the stove,
afternoon tea at the table, all real, all heart,
our ESL staff, the most faithful of faithful,
my English students who work so very earnestly,
a little hand to walk me out the door.

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Tonight was self-portraits in art class, programming robots on the computer and our Creator God.
And it was good.

I'm thankful for
the eager to please 3rd grade learners,
the smiles of neighborhood kids,
watercolors,
serving alongside these people.

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The answer, the next step, is very important: As there are no little people in God’s sight, so there are no little places. To be wholly committed to God in the place where God wants him—this is the creature glorified. 
- Francis Schaeffer, "No Little People, No Little Places"

Our Sunday routine has become home, shower, laundry, lunch. Today it also included scanning job applications. We could hear the rain as it started to fall, and immediately I wondered how long will the rain last? Will there be rain tonight? Where will she sleep?

Every week I wrestle over what is help. My friend, one who empathizes and knows just how those doubts go, wrote me this week. "I struggle with that always," I read. "Does it help?  Are we making a difference?  But when the Lord brings it our way, it is probably safer to do that which doesn't make sense to us."

No little people, no little places.

I am thankful for 
morning greetings and surprise gifts,
challenged at every turn,
to the praise of Your mercy and grace,
catch up phone calls,
Sunday night rituals, 
and chocolate pie.

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The sun shone unseasonably warm for a November day, but who can predict 10th anniversary celebration weather? The teachers and students and families came out to eat and to fellowship. How can you go wrong with the MexiDog and bounce houses? I generally feel pretty comfortable is Spanish, at least to make my point known (though I did turn over in my head the possibilities of the conditional tense of querer all afternoon...). But being with the deaf kids knocks any sense of confidence to communicate well right out from under me. Sure, it's easy to question "one hot dog or two?" with the flash of a couple of fingers, but it's so much more difficult to ask, "how have you been? How are the sewing projects? You look so pretty today!"

I'm thankful for
friends who share generously with my family,
safe travels back and forth,
10 years of service to the Reynosa deaf community,
we know He hears us.
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The Baby Gender Reveal Party- "who even thought of that...," I was thinking? When did that catch on?

Now, I'm sold.
Because honestly, what is better than rejoicing with those who rejoice. Celebrating a new little girl coming into our world, that's a pretty sweet thing.

I am thankful for
the early morning run,
lime squeezed over caldo,
be before us and behind us, to our left and to our right, 
intercession for the persecuted church,
an unplanned date with my guy,
my peeps,
an evening at home.

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“If every person in this room made it a rule that wherever you are, whenever you can, you will try to act a little kinder than is necessary - the world really would be a better place. And if you do this, if you act just a little kinder than is necessary, someone else, somewhere, someday, may recognize in you, in every single one of you, the face of God.” 
― R.J. Palacio, Wonder

I am thankful for early morning friend meet-ups,
you shall know that I am in the midst of Israel, and that I am the Lord your God and there is none else,
the women who sharpen me,
dinner in the crock pot,
my girl who bakes,
tunes to sing to on the radio,
unexpected drink stop,
plans coming together,
and a peaceful meal,
and a very good ending.

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thankful- 
We walked in and the first thing we discovered was the aquarium full of toys this busy guy deposited while his mom took a quick bathroom stop. It's his new favorite pastime- so far he's a bit unrepentant but I think he'll learn pretty quick. After all, he is quick! and busy! we rolled the ball down the slide and tossed the ball up the slide and we read books (well, the same book again and again) and stacked blocks and shook the shaker and climbed up and climbed down... all in about an hour. It was good medicine, to get down to toddler level, and remember the joy of ordinary delights.

I am thankful for my friend- the best Spanish teacher and the mom who always encourages my sometimes crusty heart, for busy little boys, for sitting next to friends to learn together, for looks that say without speaking, for a short nap in the sun, for calls from far away, for voices in unison Holy, Holy, Holy, merciful and mighty! God in three Persons, blessed Trinity!, for corporate prayer, for the thrill of game 7. 

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(for November I'm participating in the November gratitude challenge with the hello there, friend community- an image and a bit of text each day. not much different than every day, right?) 

thankful: 
I remember the first time I read Be still and know that I am God, a brand new believer maybe reading the Psalms for the first time. My friend gave me a book with the old poetry in modern language. 
"Relax, stop fretting, and remember that I am still your God; I still hold the reins on this world of yours."

Even today inhale deeply when I think be still- those moments of peace that arrive in surprise places. On Tuesdays it shows itself in a half hour increment of routine, making coffee for the evening and sitting on an old couch in quiet, waiting for everyone to arrive. 

I am thankful for everyday habits of peace, for a coffee visit and a ride in the passenger seat with dear ones (um, & for coffee...), for a quiet couch, for my faithful ESL staff, for my students, for friends that cause me to smile, for my family at the end of the day.

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"Halloween is not too haunted for true saints. This is no night for God’s “holy ones” to run and hide, but rise up and revel in the power of our sovereign Christ. This is not the devil’s day, but ours. No concessions, no treaties, no retreat. No call to fear, but an invitation to feast."
- "Christians, This is Our Night," by David Mathis, Desiring God website

We have been planning to begin an afterschool outreach at the community center in our Reynosa neighborhood for many months. The past couple of years of activities- of Vacation Bible School and art camps and woodworking and special events and serving at the ballfields- have been the foundation of relationship building. It is time. 

We wrestled over which days and what times and who is available when, the details of making it all work. We chose a start day. And then we realized, that without specific intent, we chose October 31 to begin. Halloween. 

Our neighborhood is a historically dark place. In the evening it can be physically dark- there are few streetlights, and little lights shines through windows that are behind gates and walls and set back from the street. But more importantly, it is a spriitualy dark place. We are aware of evil practices of abuse and injustice and worship and shrines to gods of darkness not farther than even I can throw a stone from our front gate. But we are the Christ-followers who believe Jesus when we said, "I have come into the world as light, so that whoever believes in me may not remain in darkness." (John 12:46)

We opened our doors and the children came. We pounded nails into boards and created stars and arrows to pierce the darkness. The kids bobbed for apples and ate sweets and kicked the ball around and in a most ordinary way, light shines in the darkness. In the weeks to come, we will be there to help with homework and offer computers for assignments and teach and disciple and listen and love. We will extend an invitation to feast.

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Dios era omnipotente y ya reina 
(Aleluya, aleluya, aleluya, aleluya) 

- Handel's Messiah (Spanish)

Thank you Grace Reformation Chorus for a wonderful evening of music and fellowship.
Our God reigns!

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How can I say thanks enough, this gratitude for the blessing of community?
for corporate communion and prayer.
for the ones who are available when you are not.
for abiding trust.
for rejoicing and mourning together.
for cheering.
for sharing meals and sharing music and sharing books and sharing...
for iron that sharpens iron.
for deep from the gut laughing.
for everyday, mundane, extraordinary, ya-can't-make-this-stuff-up, life.

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I don't have a designated space where I work. I'm a desk nomad, wandering from space to space, inching in here or there until the rightful tenant returns. I do have some favored spaces, though; places where the seat is whole and some bare desk shows through the piles. But, this desk isn't one of them. I often wonder, if I push something to the side too quickly will it self-destruct?

Who would have figured that a missionary role could be to create a better light bulb?
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"Get the fundamentals down and the level of everything you do will rise.”
- Michael Jordan

300/366

The day that I joined the 21st century and checked out a library book electronically (and then lost two hours in a blink of the eye, completely absorbed in my new read... yikes!).

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You have been treated generously, so live generously.

“Don’t think you have to put on a fund-raising campaign before you start. You don’t need a lot of equipment. You are the equipment...

Matthew 10:8-10 (The Message)

Tuesday nights with these people is all joy.

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The learning curve is huge.
I didn't know that there is a United Nations Day, but that sure explains the parade of flags and kids in non-native garb.
5th and 6th graders in class together? Not such a good idea, especially when a couple of boys are bent on disruption.
Do you take the candy offered by the cute little guy at recess or decline?

All of that, and then four girls come over and sit next to me on the sidewalk during break and start to share little bits about themselves.

I'll keep climbing.

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• Often I listen to my wandering friend talk and I think, I am not patient enough. I am not smart enough. I am not enough.

  I am reminded again, He is enough.

  
  

  End of day and I'm still turning over the hymn from worship-

  Underneath me, all around me, is the current of Thy love.

  Leading onward, leading homeward, to Thy glorious rest above.
  - "O The Deep, Deep Love of Jesus"

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(794-1185 BC)
Believe it or not, shaved ice as we know it today, dates back several centuries ago to the Heian Period of Japan. Ice was collected from the mountains in the winter time and stored in a special room. This may sound odd but ice itself was considered rare during this time, so shaved ice was really a luxury reserved for royalty.

Later, thousands of Japanese immigrants came to the Hawaiian islands to work on the sugar plantations, bringing with them the first iterations of shaved ice. Using Japanese swords, they would shave large blocks of ice and then flavor the shaved ice with local fruit juices.
- "A Taste of Shaved Ice History"

Thanks Kona Ice for your generosity and for a little taste trip back to the Islands...

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How then we spend our days is how we spend our lives.
- Annie Dillard

reading,
praying,
running,
studying,
driving,
spending time together,
cooking,
eating,
texting,
laughing,
(and if you are furry,
napping,
napping,
napping)

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gratitude-
the guy buying coffee ahead of me who is retiring in 4 days,
whip cream on top,
our Spanish teacher,
and her little guy who shares his video with me,
prayers of the saints,
SHE PASSED!,
everyday crazy,
shared smiles,
laughing out loud,
"even so, it is well with my soul"

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But in the flood of life between the breakfast table and the pillow, we can forget what it means to be blessed. Is blessing wealth, success, and acclaim? It sure seems like it. We are inclined to spend our days striving for the sparkly, sumptuous blessings of the world. But the world has an upside down way of looking at life, and sometimes we have to squint, turn on our heads, and let our hair brush the ground to see it for what it is.
- from SheReadsTruth, "Announcing: The Beatitudes" 

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Right now, a walk through the bodega at I-55 feels a little bit like visiting Santa's workshop- Christmas tree stands, wooden gingerbread houses and ornaments all at various stages of work in progress; our vocational ministry students and workers busy working hard. Christmas is coming! (hard as it is to believe when the daily temp at the US/MX border is still in the high 90's!)
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Snippets while playing Would You Rather?...

Would you rather be the tag on the back of the car seat or the driver?
The tag.
No, that's wrong. Would you like to choose again?
and
Would you rather have no nose or no ears?
No ears.
Why?
Because if I had no nose, I couldn't pick it. 

Lovelovelove.
Aren't four-year-olds the best?!

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So here’s what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering. 
Romans 12:1 (The Message)

A good day to remember the benefits and blessings of the Rule of Life, of discipline, of abiding in and living for Him who rules all things.

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26 years ago, we stood together in front of family and friends and our Lord, dressed in puffy sleeves and sharp Navy dress whites, and said, "I will." We had a hint of the story that might yet be before us, but not a clue of how chapters would be added and the plot would change along the way.
We don't have spectacular plans to celebrate this year. Last week my mom suggested, "you celebrate marriage every day."
Um. Well. Yes, we should. But, the truth is- we don't.
The truth is, that of all the people in the world, I have no doubt, we love one another the most. And truth is, that at times, we probably treat one another the most poorly.
I'm tremendously sorry for that and I know that he is too.
Again, can we mention that grace that humbles us, and surprises us, and propels us forward, again and again?
Tonight we will sneak out and share a meal together and remember to love one another well. (He does still take my breath away.)
I'm thankful that we continue to say "I will."

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I think about Tuesdays and sigh with contentment.
How thankful I am that the most full day of my week is mostly full of my favorites.
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The morning flag ceremony came midday, under bright sun, and the third graders were extra wiggly. But the fifth grade knows how to parade the flag. The "YA!" on the corner turns couldn't have been shouted with more gusto.

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Back when I was in college, a good friend used my car to get her driver's license. We went out a few times before the exam for her to practice. It was always an adventure- she was a crazy driver. Bon Jovi's Living on a Prayer was at the top of the charts back then and always seemed to be on the radio when we were out. What an appropriate soundtrack that turned out to be! I didn't know that she had never driven before. She 'fessed up after she passed the test and had license in hand.

Lately on Sunday afternoons, I've been taking my wandering friend out, so she can practice driving in preparation for the driver's license test. Sometimes I have to smile, thinking about how unlikely, really, how crazy, it all seems. We practice parallel parking and she gets out to check the distance from the tire to the curb. We try again. I try not to distract her with talking while we drive. My friend, she can really talk, and then, she can lose track of what's around her. But she always remembers, almost spontaneously and often unexpectedly, to pray before we start out. 29 years and counting, I am yet living on a prayer.

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What a lovely day-
quiet early, a psalm to focus my heart, the wind while I run,
unhurried coffee with my man,
a trip to the store, new pair of shorts, a good cup of tea,
preparations for next week made,
a call that all is well,
celebrating with friends, really good food, laughing around the table, the hullabaloo of happy kids...

(and then I remembered what I forgot. Grocery shopping for the week ahead. Alas.)

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Running into Norma at the bodega workshop brings a guaranteed smile. I always look for her when I enter the property. One of the hardest working people I know, Norma works in the Isaiah 55 vocational ministry. She can do almost anything. Earlier in the week, she was assembling Christmas tree stands. On my way to sewing class on Friday, I stopped to take her picture while she was working on gingerbread houses. Norma is deaf but has little problem getting her point across, even though I hardly know sign language. I missed one of the guys in the first shot of this picture. She made it clear I needed to take it again and include all three at the table. Again, I walk away so thankful for where the Lord has us.

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I started running about 3 years ago. In honesty, "running" probably isn't the correct word- really, it's more like a shuffle, faster than a walk but almost anyone will lap me eventually. I always loved the idea of running, but never suffered long with the reality. But a few years ago, a friend suggested a 5K and I thought "why not?" and as such, a runner was born.

I didn't run much this summer. I got off track (ha!) after our Epic Trip North and then spent a good many days in Mexico and can't really run there, and well, you know, it's Just Plain HOT here in the summer. But in August, I started up again, with my handy 10K app as my personal trainer, with renewed determination.

Earlier this week, a friend and I laughed over a meme that read, "If you see me collapse, pause my watch." I confess, I laughed a little bit nervously. Running accentuates the very worst of my OCD qualitites. When I run, I clip on my little shuffle for music. I strap on the watch that tells me how far and how slow fast I move. I make sure to pocket my phone for the 10K app and to count my steps and to make a call if I collapse. Finding one of those devices uncharged..., that could be a deal breaker.

When I go out in the morning to run, I first walk to the corner of my street. I tuck in my ear buds. I wait for my watch to find a signal. I fire up the app. Then I do a crazy series of taps and clicks, trying to get the music, the watch, the app started all in sync. I have a mental debate with myself- do I time the "walk" portion of the 10K app, because that will change my average speed...? What about when I have to stop for crawling traffic to cross the street at the school zone...? At the end of the run, I find it impossible to stop in the middle of a song, or at an odd increment of mileage or an odd amount of time. I make an extra loop around my cul-de-sac and wonder if the neighbors see me out the window and think, really? I fully realize how inconsequential and how irrational it all is. I am a 48 year old shuffler! This doesn't matter! And yet...

And yet, despite all that craziness, despite hobbling up the stairs after arriving home because I don't trust my left knee, despite melting to the floor of my room to just lie under the fan and breathe... I love running. I love that I CAN run. I love being out. I love when my most loved songs come on my already favorite playlist. I love the random dogs that follow me and seem to love running too. (I don't love the pit bull that scared the bejeebers out of me this morning, but thankfully, that's rare...) I love the world awakening at dawn. I love noticing the change in seasons and the glory of the sunrise.

'Cause I will run and not grow weary 'til I'm face to face sings one of my favorite running tunes.
I'm gonna run.

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In September I started teaching English in the elementary school located in the Mexican neighborhood where we serve. I'm in the school once a week for a morning, rotating through three classes of 3rd through 6th graders. As would be expected, they look at me with mix of amusement and curiosity, this odd gringa lady who comes in speaking English. Slowly very slowly, we repeat basic vocabulary over and again. I see them laugh, and know that they are laughing at themselves and they are laughing at me. That's ok. I'm teaching as a volunteer; my primary motivation is to know these kids, to build relationships, to be familiar in the neighborhood where we serve. I want to show them Jesus over and again, on repeat just as much as those simple English words.

This week during the morning break time, what would be called recess back in the day, I sat outside the classroom, sitting on the sidewalk in the morning sun, reading my book. A sweet young girl accompanied by two friends, dressed in the white shirt-white skirt-black shoes-uniform of the day, from my first class comes over and holds out a can of apple juice, and says to me in Spanish, "This is for you." "No thank you," I tell her, "I am fine. I have my water." "No," she answers, "It's from him." She nods her head towards the little boy standing down the sidewalk. "OH!" I said, beginning to understand. "Well, thank you." She turns and says to the boy, "GRACIAS, ALEJANDRO!" I too look over, hold up the can, grin at him, and repeat, "Gracias, Alejandro!" He looks up, flicks his head in a non-verbal "de nada" and runs across the cement. The girls giggle and turn and leave me to my morning juice break.

I am still smiling.
Maybe this is progress.

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You keep him in perfect peace
    whose mind is stayed on you,
    because he trusts in you.
Trust in the Lord forever,
    for the Lord God is an everlasting rock.

Isaiah 26:3-4 (ESV)

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Good morning.
Good morning sleeping house.
Good morning 68 degrees.
Good morning green squawking parrots on the wire.
Good morning October.

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A squabble in the car on the way to work.
Text messages about the rest of the day plans.
Making arrangements across national borders.
Knowing you will get home too late.
Some days are wanting to be here and wanting to be there all at the same time.

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Who decides it is National Coffee Day? Isn't every day coffee day?
A first thing in the morning trip through get to work and school traffic and we arrive to the waiting room just on time. The vending machine gives two choices.
Always choose sparkling.

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Tuesday blessings-
"He always gives you Himself,"
weather for my fave shoes and a long sleeve shirt,
a French press shared,
tables and chairs in place,
dinner in the crock pot,
afternoon quiet visits,
prayer,
returning students,
citizenship!,
cheerful helpers,
GIFs that make me laugh out loud,
His delight is not in the strength of the horse, 
nor his pleasure in the legs of a man,
but the Lord takes pleasure in those who fear him, 
in those who hope in His steadfast love.

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A rainy morning gives hope that perhaps a change of seasons might not be far behind. I arrive at the school just a few minutes late. The dirt next to the van is soft, almost but not quite mud, enough to stick to my shoes and flick on my toes. I go to the gate, and it is locked. I peer through the fence, and see a few lights but not many for this dim day. I walk the perimeter of the fence and round the corner, stepping carefully to check the second entrance. It too is secure. I can see not a soul on the property. I leave, wondering what I missed in translation.

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Make me like a little child, 
Of my strength and wisdom spoiled 
Seeing only in Thy light, 
Walking only in Thy might
- "Jesus Cast a Look On Me" by John Kerridge

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Football Saturday in South Texas-
Huskers on the radio,
corn growing in the fields.

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My assignment was to make a sample using the Indian embroidery technique of Kantha.
In Mexico.
I'm hooked.

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The dark is just a canvas
For Your grace and brightness
You're the song
You're the song
Of our hearts

- Rend Collective, "Joy"

(and how I love it when the playlist fits the moment...!)

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One girl, ten pairs of shoes, previously scattered through the house.
"Couldn't you just carry them to my room?" she asked.

ummm...
no.

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A day full of tasks, full of here and there and ins and outs, adding items to the list and crossing them off. But the most significant moments of the day couldn't be listed as lines on an index card. Rather, over and again, the best time was spent sitting next to people and listening to stories.

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I spent the afternoon in sewing class for the young ladies from the deaf school, helping to bridge the gaps in communicating from English to Spanish to Mexican Sign Language. We watch our master seamstress check the work of the girls since she has been away, measuring distance between darts and looking for the straight stitch and judging seam allowances with a critical eye. The girls wait for the critique, knowing the high standards of their teacher. We see their faces light when told "well done."

There are four brand new girls, just beginning to learn the signs for the craft and the habits of the seamstress. They move to choose fabric for their first project and feel the weight of the cloth carefully, rubbing it between their fingers, judging if it has suitable heft to be transformed into a bag. They measure, and then measure again, and perhaps again, before cutting. They check everything, and have everything checked.

Measure twice, cut once declares the old adage for carpentry. Yet, some traditions say that it was originally said measure seven times, cut once. I keep thinking, how much better off we would be to adapt the same caution in much of life, to plan and then execute, to think before speaking. I remember the correction and then thoughtful praise of the instructor with her learners, how the girls respond to her expectation of excellence.  The girls are not the only students today.

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"Who are we? We are pilgrims on a journey with a glorious destination assured. What have we been given? Well, the guarantee of the future grace of eternity assures us that we will have all the grace we need in the present or we would never have what we need to finish the journey."
- Paul David Tripp, New Morning Mercies

confession- by late afternoon, I questioned that "all the grace we need in the present" part...

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"God made me fast. And when I run, I feel His pleasure." 
- attributed to Eric Liddell, but actually from the Chariots of Fire script

She's fast. And watching her run makes me smile in awe. But even better is watching her run as part of that group in the shadows. You have a fan club, girl, even if you never win another race ever again.

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"I love the colors of Mexico," wrote my friend after seeing the photo I took on Mexican Independence Day. I smiled. Except that the picture was taken in Texas, I thought. This strange and extraordinary life I live. We began the day with breakfast in a very Mexican restaurant in Texas, huevos mexicanos and tortillas and an empanada and cafe, Spanish resonating from the many televisions, a birthday serenade of Las Mañanitas. We leave and then really do travel over the border, across the bridge, and see the long winding line of those waitingwaitingwaiting to enter the United States today. We curve along the river and past the boy look-outs and horse-drawn carts and into the neighborhood. Morning greetings of Buenos dias, ¿como estas? returned with the very correct assessment of Estamos aquí. I work on the English lessons I'll share with Spanish speakers, young and old, in the week to come. Conversation, and then prayer, spoken in the broken yet fluid rhythm of Spanish, English, Spanish, English. How has God made my mind to adapt? How has God made my heart to soften and mold to love this life of crossing borders and culture and language? ¡Viva México!, indeed.

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Staring at the water about to boil, I think, How is it that the same circumstance affects each of us so differently? Eggs harden while the potato softens. Some cry, some pout, and some retreat in private silence. One sees challenge to be met while the other fears defeat.

You can give yourself to love, to forgive, to confess, to confront, to trust, to persevere, even when things are hard because "he gives more grace." 
- Paul David Tripp, New Morning Mercies

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“Destiny guides our fortunes more favorably than we could have expected. Look there, Sancho Panza, my friend, and see those thirty or so wild giants, with whom I intend to do battle and kill each and all of them, so with their stolen booty we can begin to enrich ourselves. This is nobel, righteous warfare, for it is wonderfully useful to God to have such an evil race wiped from the face of the earth."
"What giants?" Asked Sancho Panza.
"The ones you can see over there," answered his master, "with the huge arms, some of which are very nearly two leagues long."
"Now look, your grace," said Sancho, "what you see over there aren't giants, but windmills, and what seems to be arms are just their sails, that go around in the wind and turn the millstone."
"Obviously," replied Don Quijote, "you don't know much about adventures.” 
― Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, Don Quixote

For most of the week just past, I looked to the absolutely open calendar of Sunday, nothing but worship and rest. Maybe I was holding that a little bit too tight.

She travels with a plastic milk crate strapped to a luggage cart by a web of bungee cords. The box is covered by a well-used blue tarp to protect it, and herself, from the ever-present sun and the occasional rains. Most everything she owns can be found in that package. I saw it parked along the hallway when I walked out of Sunday school and realized that perhaps my afternoon was about to detour from that perch on my couch.

She came into our church about a month ago, maybe a little bit more, looking for help in obtaining a driver's license. I didn't realize that she was homeless that day, but I should have. She's very self-sufficient, and living on the street has been a choice for her. Sort of. She doesn't want to stay at the local shelter, but I don't think that she sees herself as vagabond, either.

She says that she wants to work and she earnestly seeks applications. But it doesn't take much time with her to know that she wrestles with demons, and that somehow, something in her past makes her present not quite right. She wants to get a driver's license though she has no reason to believe that she will own a car. "I believe that when a person has a skill they should keep it up, to be ready when they need it," she told me. Who can argue with that?

I've rarely felt as useless to be of any help as when I am with her. I think I've decided that right now, the best good may be as simple as to treat her with the respect and dignity worthy of one created in His image. She listed off, nearly verbatim from the state manual, the skills she needed to practice, changing lanes, ability to yield to oncoming traffic, acknowledge signage and signals... I have sat in the passenger seat for 6 teens learning to drive, and now this. We drive.

We point north and soon find ourselves in the shadows of the towering turbines twirling. I smile and wonder, are we tilting at windmills too? I give up a quiet afternoon at home for a drive in the country, for a load of laundry cleaned, for a simple meal shared, for a few eccentricities and a little inconvenience. I am still learning about becoming less. I am still learning about adventure, too.