52 & 53/365 – Too much living to write

So much depends on a blue snow shovel (playing off a well-studied poem).

So much depends on a blue snow shovel (playing off a well-studied poem).

 The weekend started at 6:00 a.m. Saturday morning when I arose and rolled into my car to go help my brother cook breakfast for 80 men at his church. Powdery snow had been falling all night and the roads were bad. I thought I’d take the freeway since it’s well traveled, but I forgot that some entrance ramps aren’t so clear, and ended up spinning a 180, from which I was able to recover and which did no damage — there was no other traffic behind me. By 10:00 a.m. I was doing taxes, which lasted into the afternoon, then I joined Jane and we eventually went to Taken, a new thriller starring Liam Neesson, at 7:40 p.m. Then hours of great conversation (Jane has much greater responsibilites with her promotion) and looking at old pictures (mine are all in her basement) and all of a sudden it’s 7:00 a.m Sunday and I can’t sleep any more. By 9:00 I’m out with the snowblower, intent on having a clear driveway once the sun got higher. Taxes again at 11:00, many returns to do, limped back to Jane’s around 6:15 p.m. and shared a beer for the rest of 60 Minutes, then we caught some of the Oscars. But it’s not just the events and the fullness of schedules, it’s more the vivid contact and shared intimacies that fill the remaining time and give the busy-ness meaning.

Take a deep breath. Stretch. Think of all the things you talked about, all the depth people are capable of revealing and feeling, and thank God for the insight and love. That’s a good weekend.

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