My Old Man

My old man had a rounder's soul.
He'd hear an old freight train, then he'd have to go.
Said he'd been blessed with a gypsy bone.
That's the reason I guess he'd been cursed to roam.
Came into town back before the war.
Didn't even know what it was he was looking for.
--John Denver

This is for my Baby Girl. It's a beautiful ballad. I wish I could find a better quality version of it online for you. I listen to your plans, your impatience with people, your desire to be doing things. I see your hunger for what is out there, sometimes not even knowing what it is you want. I know the feeling. There's a passage in one of the Little House books...

There came a night when the moonlight shone silver clear. The earth was endless white and the wind was still. Beyond every window the white world stretched far away in frosty glitter, and the sky was a curve of light. Laura could not settle down to anything. She didn't want to play games. She hardly heard even the music of Pa's fiddle. She did not want to dance, but she felt that she must move swiftly. She must be going somewhere.... [and once she went outside] ...Laura's heart swelled. She felt herself a part of the wide land, of the far deep sky and the brilliant moonlight. She wanted to fly.

It's called wanderlust. It's a blessing and a curse. It's what makes people want to travel, it's what drives them to seek new horizons even when they're staying put. It makes you successful, and it keeps you awake at night because you know there are roads calling to you. It's what called to you at Tara and it's what is calling to you right now. Your great-grandmother had it. Your mother has it. You have it. It runs deep in your genes. Not everyone has it--some people are content to just be. No one explained it to me. It took me years to figure it out and come to terms with it. Now I am learning the lessons of patience and empathy and living in the moment. Things I was always too impatient to pay attention to before.

My hope for you is that early on you can harness the energy of your wanderlust and couple it with the lessons of the moment--however insignificant they seem. If you have both, you will do amazing things. I am sure of it.

Amazing Grace

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound...

I've been thinking about this song a lot these last few days. A friend of mine shared a definition of Grace with me: "the freely given, unmerited favor and love of God." That simple statement has a lot of depth to it.

When my mother died, and emotions were running high, and people were getting short with each other, I suggested more than once that we give each other Grace. Meaning simply that everyone needed patience and understanding. I've used that phrase many times since then. I suppose in any of these situations, the love of God, freely given, fits too. But it makes me question...are we open enough, patient enough, and loving enough to emulate the love of God towards each other? That's a tall order, but certainly something to strive for. In most instances, we probably don't deserve it but God grants it. So can't we try to do the same?

And it's had me thinking about the song, Amazing Grace. This song has always been my favorite hymn, ever since I can remember. I love the words, and find myself singing them or humming them quite often. When I pick up the flute after months of not playing, it's usually the first song I go back to. And of course I love the bagpipes that you hear with it so often. But it made me start thinking about the words...how sweet the sound. The Sound. We might know what Grace looks like in actions or deeds. We know what it feels like when we receive it. But what does Grace sound like? When you think about it, that's an odd thing....the sound of Grace. When John Newton wrote the hymn, he probably meant God's word. The Gospel. But think about what it means if you're giving someone Grace...that saving Grace.

That saved a wretch like me.

Telling someone you love them...there are lots of ways to say, "I love you." I tell my siblings and daughters I love them every time I say goodbye. My husband does a lot of little things that are his way of saying I love you...like starting my car for me on cold winter mornings. I tell my friend I love her sense of humor. I love my cat. Just like there are different shades of blue, there are different shades of love. The books and movies that we remember are about the great once-in-a-lifetime loves. If people are really lucky, they find that love. It may be with a friend, a lover, a relative, God. Someone they are so accepted by, so at peace with, so complete with, because love is so freely given. So freely given it makes them feel whole. And that is so rare.

I've had that kind of Grace. Twice. One of the times being my mother. That's why my siblings and I took it so hard when she passed away. And I have been lucky enough to have it a second time. I cherish it deeply. What I think is this... We all probably have it more than we realize. We probably don't recognize it very well because human flaws and the busy-ness of the day-to-day get in the way of expressing it whole-heartedly to the people we care about. We get impatient, tired, angry, indifferent. That's why we need to make room for Grace. And let people know how much we love them. Not just in our own way of saying it, but in ways they can see.

I once was lost but now am found. Was blind, but now I see.