". . . to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners,
to comfort all who mourn,
and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of joy
instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the Lord
for the display of his splendor." Isaiah 61

Sunday, September 7, 2014

Three and a half

Three and a half.
It's the time I let myself drift in and out of sleep during my "snooze" timer, before I remember I need to shave my legs this morning.
The number of months since I first found the beautiful house I now call home.
If you multiply it by 10, it's the number of bills and accounts and items of mail, and phone calls I've made over the past month, just trying to be an adult.
The number of mismatched socks I have generated after only 3 months of using my washer/dryer (one has a lot of holes in it and one was an extra that didn't belong to me or either of my roommates).
It's how many batches of enchiladas I've made lately, between having dinner with friends, and taking meals to new parents, a colleague recovery from surger , and a single mom who just needs some extra help right now.
The attempts it took me to figure out Google groups so I could video chat with my siblings
The number of times I've been out running in Forest Park here in St. Louis.

And. . . it's the number I used in math the other day, to demonstrate writing out fractions to a 14-year-old client. And when I drew my asymmetric circles and rapidly shaded them in, and cut one in half with a simple line, and then we walked together through the simple task of counting. Three wholes. One half. How to write that in numbers. So basic, but she got it. I could see her face light up as she asked for more so she could practice this new found ability.

It also represents a change in this same client after the morning of school. She "checked-in" that morning at a 6, and then we did reading and vocabulary and math. We smiled at each other, giggled at the funny sentences in the vocabulary program, talked about her family and how much she misses her mom. And then we finished and "checked-out" and she said she was a 9.5.

It's the little things and the little numbers that make a difference. Because maybe tomorrow she will check in and out with only 3.5. But I know that she can be a 9.5, and I will work tirelessly to keep seeing that cheeky grin light up her sweet face.