Tuesday, June 15, 2010

sly moments

It’s another one of those days where Mr. Witt is struggling to not talk about what he wants to talk about it. Argh!!!!

It’s so funny. I hate being called Mr. Witt by my kids, but it has turned into almost a pet name for myself—almost like a caricature.

In the effort to focus on the good, I have been. . . well, attempting to focus on the good. The overwhelming and constant anger I have been feeling this past week has gotten in the way of that a lot, but still…

Here’s one of my sources of good: I opened my bedroom window this morning to the sight of a red fox cavorting in the middle of my street in front of my house. I have seen him (maybe her) quite frequently for the past several months. I’ve seen him on rare occasions for quite awhile, but the frequency has greatly increased. Just before school ended, I had just pulled out of my drive and headed towards the main road, and glancing over, the fox was running even to my car—the driver’s window—probably about three feet away. [I may have talked about this before, but whatever.] It ran along ‘side me for about three blocks. Not long after, I watched it pouncing around in what I thought was playing, then saw as it happily trotted off with a freshly killed squirrel. I love living where I do—such an artsy, stylish, dog neighborhood, feels like a little bohemian refuge in the midst of the city. For the past year, it has been a constant push and pull with my relationship with my house/neighborhood. My little safe haven is often a source of pain and ghosts. Just like this morning, we’d often pull open the blinds of our bedroom window and gaze at the world around us as we’d lie there cuddling, talking, watching the rain, snow, flowers. It was a sweet gift to be in a spot that holds so much of my heart and also is a constant reminder and see my beautiful fox, a symbol of the genuine beauty and wonder of the world and of God. That no matter what my life may be like, no matter my emotions—joy/pain, there if life abundant and beautiful around me, around us—like moments of freedom and solace offered to whoever is willing to partake.

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