Pizza is as Pizza does

Such a delicious day! There are already sunbeams coming through the trees. The sky is a nice, hopeful peachy-blue and my coffee is fabulous. Falcons won last night, Tennessee didn't play so Saturday was relaxing, and I got to drive Lizzy back to Carrollton Friday and spend time talking with my daughter. My book for Tuesday's book club finally came in the mail on Friday and it is so good I almost finished it. (The Unwanted by Kien Nguyen) We got to share a meal with good friends and heard an unbelievably great sermon by a lay person on Sunday. Then last night we did something very familiar, but completely new - we helped serve youth dinner at our new church.
Since Robert hit sixth grade we've prepared many, many meals for the church youth group. And the pizza I've ordered - wow! I even had the nearest Pizza Hut and Domino's on my speed dial. One friend who left youth ministry to become a senior minister said he planned to never eat cheap pizza again.
Last night we didn't know the kids, but some of the adults were familiar as the volunteers were all from our Sunday School class. Still, it had that deja vu' feeling and isn't that cool? To think of all the kids and adults doing the same thing on Sunday nights across the country. To walk in and feel at home, because it's not about the building or the people. It's about belonging to a calling. Belonging to a calling of shepherding young people toward God. So cool.
Oh, and guess what the kitchen had cooked for us to serve - - - Pizza!

It's a Mess - and I Like It!

My kitchen is a mess this morning. Mike left for Philly yesterday afternoon at one o'clock. Since then I've not put one dish in the dishwasher or even wiped the counters. (And, yes, the dishwasher is empty.) I'll clean it up later, but for now I kinda like it.
If you want teenagers to love you, just let them find out you don't make your teens clean their rooms. I remember once when the youth group kids were over. Suddenly there was a crowd outside Robert's open bedroom door. Whispers filled the hall. Wide-eyed, one girl looked back at me and asked in awe, "Don't you make him clean his room?"
"No, not really. As long as there are no dirty dishes or food and he's functioning well, I really don't care what it looks like." Suddenly there were several requests for me to talk to their parents.
In my backyard I have a thicket. Yeah, like in Bambi. Celestine Sibley, Atlanta icon of writing and gardening, said she loved having a place in her yard to try different plants, throw weeds and clippings, and to let the weeds run wild. And, if you call it a thicket, she added, it sounds like it's part of your landscaping, when in reality it's just a big ol' mess.
I know that for some of you right now, your skin is crawling. Others are grinning and nodding. Don't know why I wrote this today, there's not really a point, or a learning moment and it's certainly not beautiful or poignant.
But it's the truth, and that's not bad for a Monday morning.

Longing to Belong

When my three kids were pre-16, a mom with older kids told me. "When they start driving every siren you hear makes you stop and think about where they are." She was right.
This morning I heard a siren and stopped to think if any of mine were on the road. Then I realized, that siren couldn't concern them, none of them are within 80 miles of here.
This time of transition is just that - TIME. Lizzy and I have chatted on the phone this week and she knows about the time thing. Nothing feels familiar to her and she knows time is the only way to change that. I reminded her it's practice for all the times she'll not belong in the future. She understands that and is being very wise and thoughtful.
I told her it doesn't feel settled here either - yet.
To go to bed and not leave lights on. Finding the kitchen looking just like I left it. Considering only Mike and my schedules for dinner. To be planning our vacation with no thoughts of teen friendly activities. It's all a little odd and unsettling. But not really sad, because it still feels temporary.
It's about not belonging.
Lizzy doesn't belong in Marietta or at her friends' college where she visited, and she doesn't belong on her campus - yet.
We don't belong in this empty nest - yet.
It takes time and effort to belong.
I wonder if that is one of the great things about heaven. We'll belong there immediately - we'll be at home and know it. Maybe that's why we want so much to belong here on earth? Maybe we have an inner desire for heaven. Hmmm, I like that.