Pretending

The pile of end cut two by fours tempted me. It was fire wood for camping, but playing with it wouldn't hurt it any, would it?

As I stacked two north and south on one layer, then two east and west the next ~ it grew quickly. The kids gravitated to the tower making. Soon they branched off with their own creative plans leaving me with a tiny midget of almost three years.

When I had to start lifting her to put one more layer on, we decided to started another small tower just her size. She promptly stuck her legs in using one side for a seat, the other for a table. With me squatting on the ground outside her 'house', we had a tea party. Sticks were scones, dirt was sugar, leaves were saucers and cups. The cream had to be poured out of thin air.

After a bit, she became concerned with the lopsided hospitality and insisted that I join her inside her 'house'. At first she had trouble understanding that my large body simply would not, could not fit. Puzzled, she looked around trying to solve the problem. Her eyes hit upon a wooden crate not far away. Leading me by the hand, she showed me my 'house'. She lit up with delight as we both took our places at the table and set out another, fresher tea party. It was very refined, and delicious. It felt like I had taken a turn into Neverland for a few moments. Tea parties with my girls were quite some time ago ~ mixing the memories from then into now ~ was sweet. It was a relief that I still remembered how to have a proper tea.

An older and wiser little girl of six or seven came over to see what we were doing. She didn't understand the laughter. She didn't see the tea party accoutrements, the steam from our cups, or the lemon curd drizzling down the scones.

She asked us what we were doing. A puzzled look scrunched her face as I told her, showed her, invited her. She shook her head no. I asked her if she ever played pretend. Again, she shook her head no, saying it was weird. As the grown up little girl walked away, I wanted to catch her up in my arms, and beg her to stay and play.

The shortest sentence in scripture is: Jesus wept. So did I.

Passion Play

Need Fire was one of the Celtic bands playing at the Scottish Highland Games in Enumclaw this weekend.  They took turns sharing one of the stages with The Wicked Tinkers.  

Little Michael Purser plays the didgeridoo and the fiddle for Need Fire. At the end of the day, I noticed his fiddle bow was nearly shredded. I asked him if this was a common occurence. He shyly hung his head and admitted that it was. If a fiddle bow could look happy, that one did. Completely tired and happy.

Since I was without a camera or phone to record the evidence, I asked Lauren Madison if she had any pictures of it. Turns out she is a photographer and gave me permission to dig up and use any she had taken of Michael.

Both of these celtic bands have pipers and drummers who send primal shivers down your spine and entice you to shed your inhibitions while you listen. What happens the Highland Games stays at the Highland Games......

At the end of life, I want to be shredded from being passionately used. Used long and hard and joyously.

Shredded passion ~ unstrung ~ then restrung only to be shredded once again by the music maker.

Play me.