to see a facebook video of my daddy dancing in a festive circle with a group of Christ-followers from the Banjara tribe in Andhra Pradesh, raising raucous alleluias and clapping up a storm;
to smell the aromas drifting through our house on a ridge overlooking cozy snow-covered small-town Wisconsin, smelling of lingonberry jam and swedish pancakes and cherry wine and apple dumplings and pumpkin pie and cornbread and coffee and rosewood and lemongrass and love;
to hear the Christmas CDs that populated my childhood with dreamy Christmas sound-sparkles and still occupy me with emulating the voices of Amy Grant, Michael W. Smith, 4Him (the high tenor), some pan-pipes virtuosos, the Bethlehem Children's Choir, Jaci Velasquez, James Taylor, and Leigh Nash, reminding me i'm still such a child;
to read the twists and turns, let-downs and lessons-learned, failures and fantastic leaps of faith and works of a grown-up MK, ex-mountain climber-turned-development-institute-founder-and-education-funder for people (particularly girls and remote villagers and refugees) in Pakistan and Afghanistan and across central Asia, and to mark up my copy of his story, Three Cups of Tea, with a sweet orange pen i now feel infinitely privileged to even be able to hold and use freely;
to get my resume finally in a presentable form! thanks mom! now just to get it out there...
to tickle the piano keys purely for fun, for my family's enjoyment...or annoyment...
to sleep...
ahhh...what fleeting treats ;-) and yet they go deep, deep down to what i need in both the brightest and the darkest of times, and there is One even deeper than that, holding everything together, even scatter-brained, scatter-hearted me.
peace
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