Muted.

Hi Wolfies!!! I almost bought an excellent fur blanket yesterday, like the one in this picture, but refrained. Needless to say though it made me think of you, as I do often.

The original Wolf Queen picture.

So Hubbs and I are getting all settled in. Sure, I still need an area rug for over there, and a floor lamp for over here, but all things considered we are feeling pretty much at home.
That does not mean, of course, that I am not still going to the wrong drawer to look for a chopping knife (I am going where the chopping knives were in our last kitchen), or to the wrong closet to look for a towel ( I am going where the towels were in our last hallway), or the wrong side of the bed at night (not really); slowly but surely though, I am finding my way through my new dwelling.
We are attempting to adjust to the new schedule of him going to work all day and not spending it with me (not fun), I am trying to find a routine in a schedule that isn't routine (hopefully it gets better), and I have about eight big projects I want to tackle and time only for maybe one. Or half of one. Blah.

But it will come.
And despite all the typical challenges that come with moving to a new city (finding the right stores, the right roads, the right knife drawer, etc) we really are so glad to be "home" and closer to all we know so well.
There have also been a couple really great little moments that stuck to my little soul lately.

Like a little Sunday afternoon tea and coffee service we had.

This little guy never ceases to thrill me.

The glory of summertime fruits.

Living rooms starting to look like home.

Feeling all Ina-Garten-ish and making her Roast Chicken.

No caption really needed for this one.

Hubbs and I went to Chicago this last weekend for a number of things, one of them being to see the excellent Chris Botti in concert. He is one of the world's best living trumpet players right now and since Hubbs is a trumpet player and I love all things jazz, it made perfect sense since we were in the city anyway.

I dislike cities, have I told you this? They make me feel claustrophobic, like I need to wash my hands, and very much like an imposter.
But Jesus is helping me with the last one.

Anywho, we were there and are so very glad we went as both of us agreed it was one of the best concerts we have ever been to. Which is saying something. We have been to a lot of concerts.

At one point he had this insanely good violinist join him and they played this song called Emmanuel.
A really moving tune, I leaned over to Hubbs half way through and said to him "Kind of interesting this song is called Emmanuel, isn't it?" (Watch it here--and I apologize for any nasty ad beforehand. They can be unacceptable.)
I don't believe Chris Botti is a Believer. He makes no mention of it, so I can assume. And I don't know if he wrote this song or not, I would assume not, but I still found it curious that, right there, in the middle of this grand musical display is a word that means "God with us." I think I wrote something entitled this at Christmas once and it is such a good thought. Wherever you are, in whatever circumstance you find yourself in, God is with you. "He is at your right hand" the Bible says (I wrote something about that, too. No surprise.).  Sitting right there, he was there, too. God with me. At my right hand. Listening to Chris Botti wail out "Emmanuel."

A neat reminder.

So trumpets have these things called Mutes, I guess (Hubbs told me). My favorite trumpet sound is when the bell has in it what is called a Harmon Mute. It's the classic jazz sound.
Listen to it here when he plays "Hallelujah."
And while I think it sounds so neat and chill and.......sultry, if I do say so myself, it absolutely IS muted. It doesn't have that glorious "brilliance" or "shine" as a trumpet can. It's not crisp, clear. It's blurry.
It's muted. So appropriately named.

And it made me think.

Romans 8 says that "All creation groans" because it was "subjected to frustration" at the Fall (verses 22 and 20), which would go to mean that THIS TRUMPET is just groaning. Not singing. Not jubilating. Not praising.
For as excellent as it sounds, and great at Chris Botti is, it is not what it could be. Isn't that mind blowing?

To make a connection.............it's muted.

It's a blurry picture.
There is something lost, something lacking.
All of it has been subjected to frustration.

Doesn't that make you homesick for what a SINGING trumpet will sound like? For how well a non-groaning instrument will sound?

And then it occurred to me. When Jesus comes back, he is coming with trumpets (I Thessalonians 4:16 and others)!! Not blurred trumpets, no way. Not groaning trumpets, not frustrated trumpets. But loud, brilliant, clear, tolling trumpets.
And what a jubilation that will be. Our ears will hear for the first time a sound that is not muted. The scales will have fallen.

But then it also occurred to me.

Our song will be the same as it was the other night. As it should be every day.

Just like how here on this earth "we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we will see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known" (I Corinthians 13:12), we sing our songs to the Lord in part. We only know the half of it.
Here I sing and I write about Hallelujah.
I sing and I talk about God Being With Us.

But I sing and I talk and I write and I know all muted. In part. Those things are entities that, I pray, glorifies God to the best of it's ability, but it is not brilliant yet. It does not shine as it will, it is not yet fully glorified as it will be.

But my song will be the same.
I will sing with no muting doubts. No fears that blur. No distortions that cast a shadow.

And then I will know it's truth in full.
I will see clearly it's Emmanuel.
I will sing unmuted it's Hallelujah.

I won't see them again.

So, I have been busy.

This whole gang came.

A designer in 5 Month City contacted me and wanted me to know if I could fill in while she was on maternity leave. And she makes stuff like this:

So yes. Yes I could fill in for her. Obviously. Look at those sweet poof things.

I have had a number of calls about weddings this. So collections like this have been taking place more and more frequently:

The zoo also had a baby:

You know that line from Dispicable Me when the little girls wins that stuffed animal at the carnival and says "It's so fluffy I could die!!!!"

Well that was me.

Except it was a baby elephant.

And in stead of saying "fluffy" I inserted "already wrinkly."

But the excitement was the same.

Seriously, it was the cutest baby I have ever seen and I pretty much lost my mind.

He even was taking his little trunk, filling it up with water, and spraying himself.

Slay me.

And then two days later, this happened:

Hubbs and I loaded almost all of our earthly possessions into a UHaul and left 5 Month City.

What a strange feeling it is to put your stuff in a box. It makes me wonder what really life is made up of.

Despite the fact that 5 Month City was not very nice to us, and it was not a place we felt particularly drawn to, as we were going through the packing process we both had our moments of sadness.

This was our first house together. This was our first city we lived in together. This was a place where we were together literally 24/7 and didn't get sick of each other. Be what the city itself may, we had created some semblance of a life there.

Yes, we wanted to leave, yes we are so happy to be back, yes the grocery stores here are nothing short of miraculous and I ordered meat at the butcher yesterday for probably twenty minutes, we still had to do our share of saying goodbye to 5 Month City. We even both might have had a few melancholy moments.

Leaving some place makes you take stock and sum up all the experiences you now call yours.

And I couldn't stop thinking about this one experience specifically.

It was a typical Monday. I had gone grocery shopping, I had gone to WalMart, I had had numerous typical unnerving experiences at both places.

Much like Jo in Little Women when she is asked to go visit friends with her sister, ("Come, Jo, it's time."

"For what?"

"You don't mean to say you have forgotten that you promised to make half a dozen calls with me today?"

"I've done a good many rash and foolish things in my life, but I don't think I ever was mad enough to say I'd make six calls in one day, when a single one upsets me for a week.")

I feel that way about shopping. Especially in 5 Month City. I had already gone to TWO stores, not one, (and a single store upsets me all week), and was "ready to get home" as one might casually say.

Zipping down The Pothole Road, I really was almost to my road, when out of the corner of my eye I see two women at a bus-stop, one of them flat on her back and the other standing over her.

And it wasn't like she was taking a nap. That was obvious.

Feeling certain they were in trouble I whipped my car around, delaying my longed-for return home.

"Are you alright?!?!" I said immediately as I pulled up.

"I don't know! I think she is having a panic attack!"

There she lay on the ground, almost convulsing, uncontrollably sobbing, hyperventilating, and overall out of it.

What is a girl to do?! I called someone I know who has dealt with this issue in the past and she walked me through how I could help.

Breathing exercising, supporting their weight, reassuring them, telling them it's ok to feel how they are feeling, etc.

I sat there with them for about twenty minutes and we got the woman calmed down enough to sit up and be able to tell us how she was feeling.

They told me that they were a "couple" and their names were Beth and Madalyn, and we made small talk and self-help talk as best we could in a situation like this.

Seeing as they were at a bus stop they didn't have a car, so when Madalyn mentioned she wanted to go to the hospital, I knew I was the one to do it.

I called Hubbs and had his come down, pick us up, and take us.

They were so thankful, we told them about ourselves, what we were doing in 5 Month City, what we had done the day before for Easter.

They were not religious, so they had gone to one of those all you can eat Buffet places.

We helped her into a wheelchair at the ER and sent them in.

And then we drove home.

From that point on every time I drove by that bus stop I looked to see if they were there.

They weren't.

For weeks after I couldn't stop thinking about them. How different their lives were from mine. What their stories might be that had led them to that lifestyle. What background things brought on the attack. Why did no one else stop. Thanking the Lord that I listened to him and went back.

And then we started packing up our houses. And it really hit me: I will never see them again.

God placed me there for that time, to come into their life during that need.

To be a breathing coach.

To let them know they weren't alone.

To give them a ride to the hospital.

To tell them we were praying for them. And we are.

We left 5 Month City early in the morning and as I drove past I looked at that empty bus stop. Remembering the day I wanted to get home and God wanted me to stay. To be a tangible force in their life for good.

I won't ever see them again. I won't ever know how their story ends. I won't ever know how their story started.

But God does.

Jesus saw them born. He will see them die. He saw them in their panic and sent me.

He knows. He loves. He cares. For two women so far away from him. For two women with deep seeded need and pain.

And so I trust. I trust that he has seen them their whole life. And he will continue to. Whether I continue to drive by that bus stop in 5 Month City anymore or not.

Because I am not.