pieces of us
January 12, 2013 § 2 Comments
Settling a home happens in stages. As floors and walls have come together to create a canvas for our story, my husband and I have begun carving out corners of our home for memories. In tidy mismatched frames spread across walls of our home, images and art anchor the chaos of daily life. The space between frames is uneven like the days between images. Past and present mingling with words and art. On the wall of our family room is my favorite piece of our home, a little corner of Us in the room we work, play, and rest.
Placed solidly in the middle of this wall rests the word art my son felt represented friendship, whimsical pairings that imply belonging. A painting my daughter made on a day when she was fighting restlessness lends a burst of color amid colorless images, the contrast inviting energy to stillness. Snapshots of our puppy now absent from our home; photos taken on the day we met gifting us the memory of falling in love to fill the space of a sad goodbye. Candid moments alongside professional photographs, a study in smiles. My husband and I facing one another with years between each gaze, our children in acts of adventure joined in moments of friendship, family time, and individual representations of self.
The space is finished but incomplete for moments yet to occur; our younger selves watching with amusement as we grow into our future together.
consistency & care
December 28, 2012 § Leave a comment
Gently packing away holiday decorations on a quiet, lazy day I recognized clusters of chaos in the corners of my life. Little things easily overlooked but collectively they share a theme of personal shortcomings. Too often I put off something simple for later, sweeping an unwanted task under the proverbial rug. This tendency toward avoidance is perhaps my greatest weakness.
Empty pledges to exercise tomorrow or to eat better next mealtime leaves my limbs tired and heavy, moving sluggishly and avoiding physical tasks. False promises to clean, leaves my home in disrepair and creates a sense of unrest between the rooms of our house. Lack of order fuels a sense of freedom from time and responsibilities that my children respond to with want over need and disregard for self and home.
Procrastinating my housekeeping tasks and poor self-care models an absence of respect for self and space that my children translate to unbrushed teeth, messy rooms, and unfinished tasks. Of course they brush, tidy, and complete with proper parental nagging, but the movements are empty of intent; the gestures too heavy with contradictions for genuine accountability.
These final days of winter break I am hoping to purge poor habits with more intentional acts of consistency and care, moving mindfully into the New Year; inspiring greater harmony and health at home.
silent night
December 25, 2012 § Leave a comment
Not a creature is stirring on this quiet Christmas evening. Contentment has lulled us into a groggy sense of joyful stillness. Our children have explored the trappings of the day and indulged in a menu of whimsy. Our bellies are full and our hearts weighted in the blessings of togetherness. Old traditions invited new experiences and we moved through the day in a feeling of frivolousness unbound by time. Leisurely we made order out of nonsense only to disregard duty for play.
As my children exhaust the final hours of possibility from the day in quiet togetherness, I am grateful for our invisible guest Enough for gifting me a day of love and joy without want. No one tallied toys that were not present or grieved the vacant chairs of those who could not share the day. My fondest memories of the day are of my children playing in easy camaraderie and my husband and I resting, witnesses to a life we have built with love and intention out of hopes and dreams.
making time
November 28, 2012 § Leave a comment
Twenty minutes before the start of the school day my daughter asked if we had time to read a book. Her hair still tangled and her lunch unmade I debated nestling up with a book or scurrying through last minute preparations. Bewitched by a smile still missing a tooth I settled beside my daughter and indulged her request. She choose a holiday story, a tale of a Christmas tree that is perpetually trimmed to fit a home, the excess piece unknowingly gifted to a new family until each bough belongs.
Hours later as I endeavored to accomplish a list of holiday errands I found myself staring inside a store front at a collection of holiday books. There wasn’t a gift on my list or task to be tackled that carried the value of the minutes shared with my daughter this morning; a moment manufactured upon demand regardless of responsibilities.
I no longer wanted to surprise my children with a new holiday book, rather I wanted to curl on the bookstore floor and sift through titles for a new friend. Rather than arrive at home with a bakery box hiding a seasonal indulgence, I wanted to watch their eyes scan the local baker’s shelves for an old favorite or new curiosity. Together.
I am thinking less of Christmas morning and more of the little sharings sprinkled throughout the month of December as we stretch shorter days to encompass stolen moments of togetherness. Creating time and finding our place beside those who give us a sense of belonging.
unpacking the holidays
November 27, 2012 § 1 Comment
Beloved nutcrackers stand sentry and holiday picture books gather well-turned pages for quiet moments ahead. A space has been cleared as we introduce our tree to our home and ornaments nestled in tissue wait to unravel a story of Christmases past. With talisman of joy weighting our home in anticipation for holiday traditions it seems impossible that my head and heart can feel heavy with frustration.
As I tenderly unpack holiday decorations the season deposits emotional baggage to sort and stow. We welcome personalities into our home out of obligation and borrow patience in trade for peace. Loud and all consuming these voices of expectation take greedily without thought for the unrest they cause.
This year as I make my holiday wishes I am sending a silent prayer for a small miracle of my own, somewhere in the soft glow of innumerable white lights I am hoping for tranquility in the company of those whose love fill my days with gratitude for faith in kindness, gifts unseen, and love unending.
framed
November 19, 2012 § Leave a comment
This weekend my husband and I collected frames and photographs for an overdue project. Years after we stripped our walls, slowly crafting my husband’s childhood home into our own, we weighed the same walls with memories. Mismatched frames and snapshots of our life together are now nestled near the dining room table. Walking through our front door, working in the kitchen, and passing from the stairway or garage I can peek at my favorite smiles, centering myself in gratitude and joy for my greatest blessings. It is a moment of homecoming and thanksgiving, just in time for the holidays.
in focus
October 22, 2012 § Leave a comment
Yesterday, on a beautiful fall day in the company of a dear friend, I endeavored to capture a moment from my family’s present for all our days to come with a series of photographs. Walking under a blue sky along tree lined paths I forgot so many of the things I had intended to remember, collections of images I wanted for my walls. Instead I found hidden blessings in temporary challenges, the imperfect moments between photographs lending perspective.
From the very beginning my son’s preteen mumblings felt like a wet, wool blanket chafing our nerves and suffocating smiles. In the moment I wanted for him to tuck his discontent aside and find his peaceful place in our company. Only later could I give thanks that I can hear his temperamental testimonies to life’s transgressions against him. In sharing his anger and hurt, our son is talking to us, challenging us, reaching out towards the very people who love him. I miss the ease of his early years, but I recognize the growth unfolding in difficult lessons as he stakes his independence.
While our son pushed away, our daughter charted her own course. These past few years challenges have made her hesitant, uncertain. She tends to hide from cameras while ironically inside the camera’s lens doubts fall behind her, leaving only room enough for the most genuine pieces of her spirit. Mischief and wonder, joy and love are weighted in eyes unblinking. I gather these pieces so that they may peek from corners of our home, reassuring my daughter of unspoken strengths.
When Grouchy and Mischievous uncovered fallen sticks beneath golden leaves a duel was inevitable. The flash of humor behind the challenge an unmistakable acknowledgment of an ongoing power struggle between siblings. Each clash of their wills echoed a hidden message, despite the appearance of conflict there is a safe space between them.
My husband and I lost to our son’s moods and our daughter’s whim wanted an easy togetherness that evaded us between glorious shades of autumn. Instead we were reminded that experiences are not always simple, often contentment hides beneath a messy unrest. Unscripted and unedited our lessons are wrapped within challenges that are sometimes out of focus. And always, even on the most difficult days, our family are those who see us at our most imperfect, loving us unconditionally for our best.
space to talk
October 8, 2012 § Leave a comment
Some days I want to unravel a thought, something that has snagged my attention. Other days I am acknowledging a piece of my life, holding it closely tucked inside a written moment that I can return to another time. This morning I am celebrating a day with unceremonious sharing; both children having gifted me a moment of insight into their days. While my children sleep, I am absorbing the blessing of yesterday’s conversations.
Coloring beside my daughter, not a thought beyond the images on our blank page, my little girl said: Sometimes my head hurts from the secrets I cannot say out loud. This thought comes after school days that have ended with reserved and wounded behavior. I’m fine. It was a rough day. Little clues without context until we were nestled side by side on the floor, heads bent over a shared task. Grateful for an invitation to ask questions I let my daughter lead with gentle nudging and reminders that her secrets are my own. The laundry sat in a lumpy pile on the couch, dirty dishes nestled in the sink; beside my daughter with no hurried gesture to multitask I learned everything I needed to know about the shift in her mood this past week. I gave her tools for her troubles, but mostly I was present giving her space to talk.
Later in the day my son carved out space and time for himself. Having been reprimanded for an error in judgement, an act more in line with poor manners, my frustration was disproportionate to the moment. Some days it is difficult to ignore the contradiction of my son’s mannerisms. My love is unconditional, but occasionally my understanding is limited by what I cannot know. My son’s needs sometimes create unexpected pockets of inappropriate behavior for his age. Having walked away from our moment lost to so many doubts, my son found me and sitting down across from me said: I don’t want to drag this out or overanalyze this. I just want you to know that I don’t always know why I do what I do and I don’t understand why other people do what they do. I know I did something wrong and you are upset, but I didn’t mean to be disrespectful. It wasn’t an apology, but it was a timely reminder that my son is as aware of his challenges as I am; neither of us have answers, but we both want to be understood. My twelve-year-old did more than apologize, he tethered us both to the truth beneath the frustration.
These moments, connected to my children and undistracted by the busyness of the day are essential to my experiences as a mother. I want to be the person they reach for in confidence; to guide them as they find their way, sometimes with questions and other times with answers, but always from a place of accessibility. May our home always have space to talk.
courting marriage
September 28, 2012 § 2 Comments
Twelve years of marriage and two children later, my husband and I are still dating. No longer shy or new, our familiarity is comforting. Our date nights brief reminders that we did not cease to be a couple when we grew into a family. I Do became I Will.
My greatest lesson in marriage is the unpredictability of life and the importance of growing into each new moment. In the beginning my husband and I couldn’t have imagined some of the challenges waiting around the corner from complacency. Rather than settling into quiet moments, detaching into stagnancy, we have learned to embrace pockets of serenity, centering ourselves in gratitude and gathering humor and stillness for difficult moments ahead. We fortify ourselves with time.
Date nights were not always convenient, my husband and I learned to make room for one another in simple moments. When our children were little, early bedtimes gifted us quiet hours at home. Sometimes we were grateful to get lost in a movie; other times we unraveled worries alongside dreams for our future. As our children grew to school age we borrowed time from mornings or afternoons to share a meal or embrace the peaceful silence of our home. Occasionally there is only time enough to grab a cup of coffee just before school dismisses our children to homework and extra curricular activities, mindfully we absorb these minutes with the same enthusiasm we dress for dinner out.
Our time together is woven into each week, intentionally, so that our relationship is a choice validated at each opportunity. Marriage has given my husband and I unlimited time to grow as a couple, finding new ways to celebrate the life we continue to shape for our family.
investing time
September 22, 2012 § 4 Comments
This week I structured my days more intentionally, dividing my hours with a conscious appreciation for relationships. By week’s end I feel a gratifying sense of connection among those who are most important to me.
I began with a promise and commitment to myself. For one hour each day I gifted myself time to exercise. The practice of running has become an act of meditation for me; in motion I am more peaceful, my thoughts more cohesive. This small investment in myself became the foundation for my week, centering myself before sharing pieces of my day with others. A sense of serenity inspired greater energy and attention to areas where I could improve upon other relationships.
The first realization came late one night while my children procrastinated over their bedtime routines. It occurred to me that my children did not fully appreciate the value of these routines for their father and I as a couple. This week I placed our needs into expectations. I outlined for both children the importance of a healthy marriage to happy parents, identifying the quiet couple time in the evenings as essential rather than optional. I asked our children to demonstrate respect by honoring our evening routines that their father and I may end our days connected with conversation, rest, and sharing.
As a measure of thanks for this time alone in the evening, I recommitted myself to connecting with each child during simple moments like homework, mealtime, and extracurricular activities; each opportunities that lend themselves to easy, unforced conversations. These touch points of our days are necessary indulgences I dare not compromise.
Perhaps the greatest change to my week involved an increased effort to share my days with friends. More than speaking I listened, laughed, and settled into hugs rather than settling for e-mail messages and texts. My absence from home left some household tasks undone, but my children and husband embraced new opportunities to connect as they explored pockets of time together without me. Adjusting my days to encompass exercises in friendship highlighted this area of my life as assumed and overlooked. Loving friends without demonstrating appreciation by sharing time leaves these precious relationships unbalanced and undervalued.
The world did not challenge these small adjustments to my daily agenda. Greeting each day more aware of each relationship my days were richer for the investment of time.
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