A Piece of Me

"The ability to quote is a serviceable substitute for wit." --W. Somerset Maugham

If you know anything about me or follow me on twitter, you know that often my status updates and tweets are filled with quotes. They are usually quotes from my past or frequently I find that they are quotes that touch my life at the exact right moment when I need to hear it. I love quotes. I always have. They inspire me. Simple, small words of wisdom that filter in my life and spark emotions, dreams, visions, love.

On the shelf beside my bed is an impressive collection of papers without which I cannot live. There's my household budget notebook, a dictionary, my Bible, thesaurus, several books that are on my list to read, and other such vitally important items. And there, tucked in place of great honor, is a beautiful journal covered in shiny black leather. The papers have a perfect-sounding crinkle that makes my heart beat a little faster.

It's my quote book.

I first began collecting quotes when I was in high school. My world was broadening exponentially, and daily, and I was astonished to learn that there were many people other than ME who had important things to say. As I navigated those choppy waters of late adolesence/early adulthood, I scribbled others' important thoughts in a journal covered in obnoxiously cheery pink fabric. I filled it up.

After college, and marriage, I decided my quotes should be carefully typed and neatly stashed in a three-ring binder, sorted by topic. I spent a couple of months typing my entire collection. It looked very nice and ridiculously organized.

Then I had my first baby, and I had visions of my children someday coming home from my funeral and sorting through my things. Wouldn't I rather have all my most treasured quotations passed down to them in my own handwriting? And so I re-copied--again--my entire quote collection in its current location.

I don't worry so much about the whole handwriting thing anymore. In these frantic days of busy-ness I could never have imagined years ago, I don't have time to be picky anymore about how these quotations get recorded. Some are neatly hand-printed, many are scrawled in a handwriting that would make a doctor blush, many are printed directly off a website and slapped in with a piece of Scotch tape. But however they got there, they are all treasures.

Many of those quotes have journeyed through all my quote books, collections from those early days when I was first discovering the delight of a well-turned phrase:

No one can make you feel inferior without your consent. --Eleanor Roosevelt

Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today. Let us begin. --Mother Teresa

There are quotes from favorite movies...

An ounce of pretension is worth a pound of manure. --Steel Magnolias

...and favorite books.

The task, and the joy, of writing for me is that I can play with the metaphors that God has placed in the world and present them to others in a way they will accept. --Kathleen Norris, The Quotidian Mysteries

There are quotes added in times of great sorrow...

I have learned to hold all things loosely, so God will not have to pry them out of my hands. --Corrie ten Boom

...and quotes added in times of great joy.

A boy is Truth with dirt on its face, Beauty with a cut on its finger, Wisdom with bubble gum in its hair, and the Hope of the Future with a frog in its pocket. --Alan Beck

There are many quotes from people whose names appear more often than others...

He is not all we would ask for (if we were honest), but it is precisely when we do not have what we would ask for, and only then, that we can clearly perceive His all-sufficiency. It is when the sea is moonless that the Lord has become my light. --Elisabeth Elliott

What saves a man is to take a step. Then another step. --C.S. Lewis

...and many quotes from people whose names have been long forgotten.

A little nonsense now and then is relished by the wisest men. --Anonymous

A good scare is worth more to a man than good advice. --Anonymous

I treasure all those quotes--they're all mementos to me, moments in time captured in writing, and souvenirs of lessons learned. But as I no doubt have much, much more to learn, tell me: what's your favorite quote ever? I still have plenty of empty pages to fill.

A Mom's Prayer on the First Day of School

Here we are again, Lord. Their backpacks are loaded and their faces are scrubbed and their lunch accounts are full.

And I know you'll walk with them, Lord. You always do. But a mom still has to ask.

Will You walk with them? Will You whisper to them what they need to hear, when I'm not there to whisper it?

Will You please, oh please, cover their school with the protection only You can give, and will You keep harm far away?

Will You make their minds strong and ready to learn? Will You help them understand that hard work honors the One who created them?

Will You guide their teachers, giving them patience and wisdom and creativity and more patience? Will You bless them for their efforts?

Will You love all those children there, the ones whose lunch accounts aren't full, the ones who feel alone? Will You teach my children to be kind and unselfish and to love those who are different from them?

Will You point them back toward home just as soon as you can?

Lord, I give them to You today and everyday, trusting them to Your care.

Amen.

Did that just happen?

My oldest son walked into my room after dressing for church; he was wearing the same church t-shirt he's worn the last numerous Sundays that I have seriously lost count. I am thinking that my church family may start thinking that he doesn’t own any other shirt.

"Hey, big guy, why don't you wear something different?" I suggested.

"Why?" he asked. "This one is my favorite, and it's clean."

"Well," I explained, "you have several shirts, but people are going to think that's the only one you own."

He looked at me squarely and did not miss a beat. "Mom, what people think doesn't matter nearly as much as what I know to be true."

My first thought: Wow, the boy has been listening after all.

My second thought: Wow, seriously? I just got a smack-down from a ten year old.

in honor of shark week

I stepped out into my front yard, greeted by a blast of hot air and the dull roar of the cicadas. Squinting into the glare of the evening sun, I noticed a strange shape atop my brick mailbox. Closer inspection revealed this to be a ten-year-old boy, my ten-year-old boy, in fact, his legs crossed and his chin in his hands. He sat atop the mailbox, deep in thought, eyes loosely focused on something I could not see.

I wandered slowly over to him, and I leaned against his perch. I didn't say anything, not for a while; he had thoughts to think, and it's a good thing to listen with contentment to what a child isn't saying. After a few minutes, though, the curiosity got the better of me, as my mother's heart wondered what heavy load had driven my boy into such a reverie.

"So," I said. "It looks like you're thinkin' things."

He paused. "Yes, ma'am."

"Wanna tell me about it?"

He paused again, as if to wonder whether his mother was ready for thoughts of such magnitude. Evidently, I passed muster.

"Sharks," he said, looking straight ahead. "I'm thinking about sharks."

"Oh," I said. "And what are you thinking about sharks?"

He raised his head and looked at me, in an of-course sort of way, and he grinned. "I'm thinkin' about catchin' 'em."

Well, of course.

I grinned in return and I rubbed his sweaty head; but not too hard, in case I interrupt the fine thoughts inside. Sensing his need for more silence, I slipped back toward my house, but not before I turned to look at him. His chin had dropped back into his hands, his eyes refocused on the asphalt street in front of him, the street down which surely, surely, any moment, a shark might swim. Never mind that it's 600 miles to the nearest ocean. When you're ten, it doesn't really matter.