Skip to main content

Starry Night Shows

"What's one thing that helps you say "no" to what's good so you can say "yes" to God's best?"  
This is the question asked by Holley Gerth at relating to her new book,
Your Loved No Matter What: Freeing Your Heart From the Need to Be Perfect.

During this strange season of my life I do not claim to hold answers or be living those answers out successfully.  But I do have a general rule of thumb that has guided a lot of the choices I make.  Not always, but usually my frame of reference.  It is, relationships trump just about everything else.
I am one of those people who will drop just about any task for someone who wants to connect.  That can be negative sometimes because things tend to pile up and feelings of being overwhelmed mount; however, usually the pay off is worth it.
I thought about that the other day as I thought about how many friends I've been blessed to have come and go through different phases and then some that are so deeply ingrained in our families' thread work that they will always be a part of who we are.  Most of those relationships came with a tradeoff.  My personal time, space, or plans traded for people.

Last night I had a little glimmer of this trade off.  Our other family member was here to eat dinner with us.  (A close friend from church) and we were eating rather late.  Just simple quick food for this impromptu meal.  All the girls were chattering away and I was smiling sleepily even though it felt so late.  We had just gotten back from the gym where we had run for an hour and I had almost fallen asleep sitting with the baby as we waited for dinner to cook.  But no time for that.  Everyone had to eat and then the treat of the night.

It was nine thirty and my two older girls kept insisting there was a show tonight.  Earlier in the day they had spent time at length in seventy degree early spring sunshine practicing their performance.  While we had hastily made dinner they had put their best dresses on and lots of jewelry in eager expectation that after dinner we would all be attending this special moonlight performance. I knew we had to.  No matter how late it was.  They had worked so hard.  And nothing would dissuade my oldest girls insistence that the show would be happening.  Even the baby was wrapped in my scarf shirt (that is now completely filthy and will forever be hers).  As I was clearing off the dinner plates and my husband and our friend were chatting, the girls ran out to the front yard and the baby pressed her piquant face against the door screen and yelled out, "Mama moon moving.  I go see it, ok?"  Soon everyone was outside in the front yard.  Dishes everywhere and ten o clock fast approaching.  The little girls had set up three chairs for us to watch them outside under the buzzing yard light.  Dripping out of the first blossoming tree were flashlights they had suspended as spotlights.  I had to smile.
We were in for a treat.  I fished out my phone and found some soothing and then not so soothing dance music for them to spin around and around too.  Their hair fast swishing around and their carefully chosen little girl outfits swaying.  Their were some graceful moments and then some moves that ended flatly on the ground.  The baby kept chasing her shadow in the moonlight.
I looked high up in the sky and saw that moving moon (all those clouds wind whipping by making the girls think it was the moon sprinting across the dark ink of night) and I listened softly as the two men talked and Meredith kept begging us, "Look at me guys! Watch me!" And every time all eyes were on her as she jumped higher and twirled faster,  her smile was unmistakable.

When we all got too cold to watch any more and felt it was appropriate to wrap up this "show", Taylor our other family member laughed and said, "Just another night at the Floyd's house."
I had to smile, he was right...there is never a usual here.
After we came inside and Meredith was floating around like she had just performed on an actual ballet stage rather than some soggy grass out under a canopy of a million stars for an audience of three I smiled deeply at the thought that most of the time these special little moments win out.  Over routines and norms.  And I'm so glad.  That moment was so special to me.  I hope I always remember it.

I also think choosing people over plans is a bit reminiscent of having the heart of a child.  Not being so grown up and important, but being fully in the moment with those people right in front of your face.  Not missing them, but celebrating life with them.

Close your eyes and imagine three starry eyed girls twirling to Ellie Goulding's "Your Song"  under the silver moon...that trumps bedtime every time.


  1. Somer,
    Oh what a beautiful memory your girls gave you and thanks for sharing the adorable photo with us! Dancing under the moon . . . if only we could be like little girls again with such joy and beauty overflowing from our souls! I love how you put aside everything for connecting with others -- what a lovely example for your girls. I'm often annoyed if something interrupts my schedule. Yet I spontaneously invited a friend over for dinner tonight so I'm trying to change my ways! :) Thank you as always for this beautiful peek inside your family! xoxo

  2. You're so right, Summer. Yes, when all is said and done, the only thing that will matter is that we loved well.

    All else fades away, doesn't it ...

    Good to see you again!

  3. Somer,
    I'm just popping over to say hi and that I miss you! Hope you are doing well! Love and prayers to you!


Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

31 Days of Free Writes #Wave

Four summers ago the first weekend in September marked one month.  One month lived out shaky and unsteady.  Just putting a few steps in front of the other and letting tears drip down faces or anger spill out at the sky.  "Why?"
I had watched my husband shake violently at the graveside of his twenty-six year old brother as he sat a few inches from the casket.
My usually stoic husband reached out for the casket as he passed by and I heard his voice crack as he called out his name.  One more time. I had never seen him stricken with grief.  That groan of emotion haunted me.   Those fifteen minutes spent under the funeral home's green awning the last minutes his family would ever be within arms length of this special brother.  A brother who had just slipped quietly out of this life beneath the green gold water of a river one steaming August day.  Bare chested and tan, jumping off the dock with friends.  Never to resurface again.
A lot of that week in August was just wakin…

Five Minute Fridays - "Last"

Last is such a final word, it’s a word that always makes us sit back and take note. We take note of the fact that something is about to draw to an end and we better enjoy the last drops, savor the last bites before its all gone. Like that last hot week of summer that we spend soaking up every last beam of Vitamin D. Or that last couple bites of a once a year Christmas dinner, slowly swallowed down. Or maybe the last night of a vacation where we try to take note of everything and know that we are returning to real world, real bills, real deadlines all seemingly too soon. Two weeks ago I experienced a last. For seven months I was given a gift. It was truly an unexpected gift. One I had never anticipated being given. For the past six years my sister Faith and I have lived in different cities for most of the time. We always mused over the idea that we should've lived together for at least one year of college. But from icy January 4th to steamy August 10th I had the gift…


Five Minute Fridays

Morning seems sacred to me.  Having nocturnal children kind of robs me of the mornings I like to enjoy in silence and quiet thought.
For years I would get up at least two hours before anyone so I could just be by myself and be quiet.
My parents are early morning people that like to eat full breakfasts and watch the sunrise on the porch. There's something exciting about watching the day open its' eye lids with the first glints of sun playing on the horizon edge.  Pale blues and periwinkles rouse us out of pitch black and many times morning rises in strength with extravagant colors.  It signals something new.  A new twenty four hours.  A new chance. Kind of like a new little slice of life.  We are mesmerized at first at the idea of new.  It's beautiful, holy, and hopeful.
Morning breaks the night.
I love that Cat Steven's hymn Morning has Broken.  I've always thought the words were so beautiful.
Especially the last phrase, "God&…