purge & plenty
July 12, 2015 § 2 Comments
There is something cathartic about purging material reminders of negative relationships from our home in anticipation of our move. For years my mother-in-law would supplement love and kindness with material generosity at the cost of submissive acquiescence intended to communicate a debt of gratitude.
This week I have gathered these objects into miscellaneous donations, releasing the cost of their obligations to the anonymous benefit strangers. No longer are they tethered to my spirit or weighted against my attention.
In much the same way we shared beloved books that they might inspire new dreams and sifted papers of old intentions forgotten in the busyness of daily life, I have also let go of clothes and costume jewelry long unworn, decorative objects kept in corners without purpose in want of use.
As our house empties purposefully into unspecific brown boxes, I am finding a new emotional space of peace; hoping that when we unpack our lives into our new home we will find a sense of plenty in the possession of fewer distractions.
guarding joy
July 12, 2015 § Leave a comment
During these early days we have held our news cautiously among only a few close family and friends. My mother, our children, family friends who are unofficial grandparents to our children, and old friends from before we became a family. When I look back on this time, I want to remember the outpouring of love and positive words that marked this transition. The generosity of this kindness has made our work a happier endeavor and for that I will be ever grateful.
As more friends return from summer vacations and calendar dates invite occasions to share our news, I am hopeful we can sustain this space of positivity for our children as we celebrating this new chapter of our story.
Both children will be navigating complicated conversations cluttered with difficult emotions. I cannot control the impossibility of unanticipated goodbyes any more than I can predict the uncertainty of our welcome into a new neighborhood of strangers; both invaluable lessons in navigating the unpredictable. For now I am encouraging both children to lead with a smile and listen with tenderness, to guard their joy in a way that creates an expectation of enthusiasm that allows others to follow their example.
more, less
July 12, 2015 § 2 Comments
Today was an exercise in self-truth. Beneath all the clutter free surfaces of my home, there is a quiet chaos. Neatly organized nooks of procrastinated uncertainty. Items I hesitated too long to sort until the task of remembering their importance is almost impossible.
I had planned to start the day sorting through my children’s rooms, but as they slept my unsettled energy lead me, instead, to my office. Well intentioned pages of helpful information stored as a resource for another day were shelved with favorite books and forgotten keepsakes. My third grade report card and a bridal shower invitation, a birthday card completely shellacked with signatures from another life and old yearbooks whose spines crackled against time.
As I considered the value of so much nonsense, I became committed to permanently sorting each space into specific categories: to keep, to share, to donate, to dispose. It was tempting to categorize by necessity, but I quickly found that necessary is a tricky work, it creates just enough manipulation to exaggerate worth into a reason to store miscellaneous nonsense.
It was a long day, I worked until I could feel myself rushing certainty. Each time I struggled against sorting I would pause, move to a new corner and begin again. It is discouraging to think how much work remains, but I am eager to begin the next chapter of our lives unburdened by excess.
by the book
July 12, 2015 § Leave a comment
Today we began the process of packing. Everyone woke eager to begin and so we dove into the nearest starting point, the fireplace cabinets. Behind each set of doors were shelves of books, well-loved and, some, long forgotten. Both children quickly fell into old stories while I created piles and folded empty boxes into shape.
I am practical above sentiment, but these pages of beloved characters were nearly impossible to sort. In the end each child was given two boxes each to fill, another box to share between them. I packed one of my own with room enough for picture books I could not yet part with.
Soon after we sifted through games and crafts without the same tenderness with which we struggled over book titles; old friends bound lovingly for their new home. The remaining titles were thoughtfully distributed among friends as parting keepsakes, a few stragglers reserved for strangers.
Full corners filling empty boxes, a slow beginning to a new chapter.
to my children
July 12, 2015 § Leave a comment
Tonight your father and I shared our news. We sat over a meal, not rushing the moment. Our telling was brief, we presented it only as fact; without choices or excuses.
There was no anger, only thoughtful questions and emotional responses; tears and well measured logic that quickly turned to enthusiasm.
I could not be more proud of your genuine response or mature questions. I admire the way you sought answers and were unapologetically fragile in the transparency of your feelings.
You were both exceptionally kind, quick to consider our feelings and to worry over your friends’ responses. You determined this was news best shared in person and cause for a goodbye gathering.
Thank you for making a difficult moment, a cause for celebration. For leaping with us into this new unknown.
Love, Mom
thief of comparison
July 5, 2015 § Leave a comment
In the time between falling in love with a new house and returning home for goodbyes, I have begun critiquing our choices with measures of comparison; the work of settling one home over the familiar comforts of another.
There is a temptation in comparison to contort fact with sentiment, filtered imperfections misconstruing truth. I find myself grieving pieces of my old home as if they always existed without the discomfort of change. For today I want to remember the effort beneath our comfort.
Wooden floors that were a patchwork of progress over years of divided attention, have become an assumption. I have forgotten the progress of change as I compare carpeting and wood grain.
Floor plans and color palettes, choices made permanent by the cost of change, have been distorted by familiarity. We are not loosing a larger space, we are gaining preferences lost in the extensive expenses of a past design.
Our yard, only newly an oasis, was first an unused, overgrown forgotten space that we thoughtfully carved into our favorite escape. It was a lengthy labor of love. It is also an overwhelming commitment.
The house we made our home was never our ideal; it was a product of concentrated efforts to remap a choice we regretted into something we came to love.
This thief of comparison is an unkind friend. I am choosing to remember the work behind our choices and the truth of old regret uncluttered by nostalgia as we create new lists for settling another house into a home.
I will no longer look at naked windows without seeing an opportunity to dress our rooms with warmth. I will sketch trees upon an empty yard to mark our years together. Mindful planning and cautious budgeting.
It is a time to center my thoughts between appreciation for what I’ve known and gratitude for what will come; learning and exploring a new space with the wisdom of old experiences. No longer stealing joy or inviting doubt with unfair comparisons.
to my husband
July 1, 2015 § 4 Comments
Yesterday we skipped town, stealing a day away from work and home to return to a place of Us. Holding hands and dreaming big we stepped outside the present moment to look beyond the worries that cloud our perspective to a time past and the days to come.
There have been many worries this year. Heartache born of personal and professional challenges all tied intimately to unhealthy relationships. We have lost days to the tenderness of old injuries, each turning us further inward until our future and past felt hopelessly disconnected from the moments between us.
We were so busy working at creating a life we forgot the shape of our dreams.
Life is more than an inventory of necessities, but our dreams cannot exist without the foundation of our labor. This is not to mistake contentment or happiness with the more complicated sense of fulfillment that comes from faith and confidence in the presence of challenges. Life need not be easy to be rewarding, we cannot thrive without effort.
Today I am thinking of the work of marriage, family, and home. The space of Us that centers our attention and informs new dreams. The places we have been and the path of dreams to come.
Love you.
changing places
June 27, 2015 § Leave a comment
It is an ongoing conversation, a place of home. The comfort of familiarity over the lure of possibility. The temptation to move tickles the quiet of our ease into an enthusiastic wondering. The balance of our uncertainties, little voices of worry dressed as practicalities, caution us against impulsivity.
I’ve been making spreadsheets of change for as long as I can recall; notebook paper scratches tallying choices into an accounting of probability. Almost every outward decision stems from an internal question of wants and needs, responsibilities and opportunities.
In motherhood I have come to list my children’s hopes and fears in the same space as my own. Inseparable and unequal, there is an imbalance of importance; like a hand that lingers too long against the scale until it is impossible to weigh the value of change. Do I guard my children’s fears more closely than their dreams? What of my own or my husbands?
Are we selfish in our wants or crippling in our protection? A lesson in change or an unnecessary experience of loss? Do we wait for life to pull us into change or march fearlessly by a map of our own design?
My children cannot imagine a home without their friends anymore than I can imagine never moving. In the same way they crave stability, I itch toward the temptation to explore.
For now our decision teeters between the freedom to choose for ourselves and the burden of choosing for our children. Drafting daydreams and counting excuses.
face forward
June 26, 2015 § 4 Comments
There is irony in the passage of years, I feel the humor intimately in my morning routines. I am a woman looking to my reflection for the girl of my youth, no longer so eager to cheat the years in a mad race toward maturity.
I thought time would deliver me into an image of more worldly expressions, that I would evolve into a glamorous stranger. Instead I wake each day to a funny recognition of self.
My eyes recall the errant efforts of youth, the eager ignorance of hard lines and clumsy shapes. Blemishes and stray hair, I have exhausted my skin with harsh chemicals and sharp ends of overused tweezers. I was unkind in my attention, unforgiving in my imperfections.
I never matured into an image of sophistication, rather I settled into the shape of my truth with a fondness for a simpler expression of self; a gentler appreciation for lines that tell a story of heartache and joy.
It is a beautiful undoing, years of well-intentioned manipulation washed away for a wiser recognition of a naked knowing. I am both the girl behind the mask of old dreams and the woman in the mirror; a complicated and contradictory skin of experiences that shelter memories.
I have come to spend less time creating an image and more care nourishing grace.
to my husband
June 22, 2015 § 2 Comments
It’s a funny thing, the interruption of silence. I can’t remember the last time we didn’t intrude upon one another’s day with a quick message, silly picture, or distracted phone call. We began our courtship on paper and over the phone, filling the miles of uncertainty between us with conscious effort. But here, in the unanticipated place of waiting, I feel unfamiliar with the quiet between us.
Our days overlap with care for our children and home; never far from the same place we tend to assume the other’s company. Today I am savoring the sweetness of the details left unknown, anticipating the occasion of unraveling our days apart with stories unspoiled by images sent casually between conveniences.
Just for a moment, I am happy for the inconvenience of broken technology that affords us the richness of waiting for hello.
scribblechic 