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it’s not a new year’s resolution kind of fix.
I don’t really feel like writing. I didn’t really feel like celebrating this Christmas or this New Year’s. There’s an awful lot I don’t really feel like doing. It’s kind of stacking up around me just as I am inundated with new calendars and fresh resolutions and shared quotes about potential and a clean slate. My toilet is overflowing with – well, toilet water – and that’s no metaphor although it absolutely could be. My sink is overflowing with dirty dishes because the dishwasher is broken and that’s alright of course as people have washed dishes for – like, centuries – without the aid of a square water machine. But…
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my people
Every night we gather in our living room. Bodies piled on every surface in that small space. Arms linked. Feet resting on someone else’s legs. Heads on a sibling’s shoulder. We take up each other’s space. Animal sighting and outdoor adventures are jotted down in our Nature Notes for that day. We record happy bits of our lives in our Happiness Project book. And then we pray. Although the requests and the praises change from day to day, there are several phrases and burdens that are echoed night after night, a seemingly never answered outpouring of their precious young hearts. When it’s my turn to petition and approach the maker…
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Hawkeye’s Ode.
Hawkeye. Every time you laugh, I know you mean it. Your eyes are searching and your hand resting on my shoulder is a blessing to my core. Being your momma is a treasure and an honor and as often as you jump and hop and flit and wander off is as often as I think about how blessed and full you have made my life. Like sunshine, you are to me. Like warm tea on a cool evening. Like a good gift. Like a rainy morning when you get to sleep late and lounge all day. Like light. Like flowers on a mountainside. You are all joy.
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slow down.
Lately my heart is beating to the mantra – “Slow down. Slow down.” I’m saying it to myself. I’m saying it to my husband. I’m saying it to the sky and to the wind and to the sunshine. And I’m especially saying it to the five littles who live under our roof and the one not-so-little who lives in another country. Slow down. And we’ve been trying. (We’re still plodding along in our “Just Say No” campaign. It’s progressing kind of nicely friends.) I just feel so very aware of the sheer speed at which life moves. I know that, in so many big and little ways, RIGHT NOW is…
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Forty: I Love You.
These forty days of celebrating forty have changed my life. Are changing my life. FORTY days. Forty days of good things. Forty days of waking up with a light heart (even on heavy days) and wondering what good was coming my way. And knowing, knowing, that some good was coming my way. Despite whatever the day might hold – urine on the floor, bad news at work, delays at home, bills to pay – at least at one point during my twenty-four hours on that very day, something good was going to happen. To me. For me. It’s been unbelievable. At once humbling and celebratory and exciting and hopeful and…
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surprise! forty feels fine.
I spent half of Year 39 thinking about Birthday 40. That number seemed so daunting. So definitive. So half way. So big. My thoughts were primarily focused on actually turning the corner on that milestone. Sitting at that iconic number. Four. Zero. But I did give a few thoughts to the actual day. July 23. I like birthdays. I always have. And I struggle with expectations. Now that’s a dangerous combination. It’s not that I expect people to do amazing things for me. And this is a difficult confession to share so I’m trusting you won’t judge me too harshly. But I have allowed myself to be a victim of…
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consider me blessed.
What could be better than a twisty-turny Sunday afternoon drive to see a stunning view? What more could I ask for than spoken words of love and affection delivered directly to my ears? What else could I desire besides beautiful handmade treasures crafted by sweet, small hands?
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a little change goes a long way
You know I love to rearrange furniture. But sometimes I don’t have that much time. Or that many options. (There are only so many ways one can rearrange three pieces of furniture in a narrow room when one’s husband insists that all three pieces of furniture face a certain wall featuring a certain screen.) So I change what I can. I alter all of the containers, jars and stuff sitting on the kitchen counters. I give my favorite glass oatmeal container a touch of new life with a cute label and a bit of ribbon taken from my birthday flowers from Leanne. I switch the locations of all of my…
