Thursday, July 29, 2010

Magic Bags

Journal for Christa—

Melody carries a large bag-type purse in which she packs around all sorts of necessities, including a fold-up Dora potty seat. So, this summer as we and all the Stateside cousins enjoyed a trip to a Kansas farm, Stef asked Flora several times if she wanted to go potty. Flora, being far more interested in cows than the potty, shook her pigtails and simply said, “no.” After awhile Mel bent over, opened wide her bag, and said, “Look, Flora, Aunt Mel has the Dora potty seat—Do you want to go?” To which Flora lifted her big brown eyes from the contents of the bag to Mel’s beckoning face, nodded, and said, “yes.” And off they went. It was almost like magic.

Oh, what I’d give for a big magic bag. For years I used to wish for Mary Poppins’ carpetbag, and Kim once coveted Harry Potter’s Hermione's purse. What woman couldn’t use a magic bag?

When the kids were little, I would have whipped this house into shape and stacked graded essays in a neat pile seconds after they were turned in. Today, I’d pull together drifting relationships, give my students a desire to learn, spend every weekend at a different grandchild’s house, and heal Claire.*  But, there are no magic bags, and the only magic I have are Granny kisses. (And they only work on “skinned knees” that aren’t really hurt.)

So, when the avalanche of this world’s pain finally settles, and I crawl out from under the debris—where will I find myself and those I love? I hope at the end of a prayer.

It isn’t magic, but sometimes it can almost seem so.

*Claire is my former students’ daughter who has progressed significantly, but is still in a near coma state. You can check on her at

(Philippians 4:6-7) Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. 

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