Lakes and Dreams

Like a close friend whose emotions are always changing and whose personality brings warmth, peace, joy, and excitement, Lake Michigan is becoming part of the daily fabric of our lives.  Two days ago I sat in a sleeveless shirt wiggling my toes in the sand, watching white sailboats glide over turquoise waters, and reading Jonathan Franzen's new book FREEDOM while both my girls were at school.  Today I walked Roscoe down to the lake to play under an ominous pink and black sky.  The Lake was as I've never seen it.  With white caps out to the horizon and giant waves pounding the beach, she seemed to shake an angry fist at her Creator for making her merely a lake when every motion of her violent surf demanded she should be a mighty ocean.  A lone surfer battled the waves in his wet suit.  I watched him get continually slammed by the angry surf and was thankful I had no knowledge of the conditions when Jason took his kayak out to play an hour before.   The warm afternoon sun, so present yesterday when Jason and I shared a Bloody Mary at a restaurant in the city, had slipped behind gusty winds ripping the fall color off helpless oaks.

I am sleeping better these days, a deep sleep full of dreams.  Often in these dreams people appear in a strange relational cocktail from different seasons of my life.  It is as if my brain is desperately trying to create order out of the sea of new faces and names which present themselves daily in our new life, as though having old friends march through my sleep makes tidy files where the brain can hold onto all the changes and places and newness of seasons past and present.  I ride my bike down brick cobblestone streets past quaint lampposts and 100 year old homes.  I see my children smiling at the end of the day with the richness of an excellent school experience.  Is that happiness creeping in the backdoor?  Are we finally settled?  This place, this part of Chicago, is truly beautiful and amazing.  We have only begun to tap into the depth of riches that are offered here.  But, those things aside, it is the littler things- the morning routines, the bike rides to/from school, the play-dates, my weekly delivery of organic produce, the regularity of Friday "day dates" with Jason while the girls are at school- that provide the stability and comfort we have craved in the past months.  These things give form, shape, and rhythm to our daily lives which then make the adventures all the more enjoyable.