making a list
December 13, 2012 § Leave a comment
Unhindered by lengthy wishes from my children and the hidden blessing of a tiny family I spend little time shopping each Christmas season. My greatest gifts are nestled within the walls of my home; I cherish uncluttered traditions and the warmth of a tree dusted with infinite white lights. My only requests are a romantic gesture from my husband and a sentimental keepsake crafted by my children’s hands. My closest friends and I do not exchange gifts, their company brings more joy than anything bundled in ribbon.
These thoughts accompanied me yesterday as I stole a morning to drift through stores bustling with busy shoppers and trimmed in holiday cheer. Tucked inside my coat pocket were names of teachers and support staff who share my children’s school years. Each holiday I pause, wondering how to celebrate this eclectic company of friends who lend humor, kindness, and wisdom during difficult moments as well as effervescent enthusiasm during moments of accomplishment. The unending string of messages throughout the year are punctuated with thanks – so how do I mark this season of joy with those who understand the measure of my children’s smiles?
Wandering the shelves of a nearby bookstore I visited old titles, friends who have gifted me distractions on difficult days and lent a moment of rest or humor. Then, misplaced alphabetically a familiar story called out to me. Unassuming in a paperback package a recent favorite winked back at me with good cheer. A sweet story of a collection of women caring for a young girl; the girl a friend to books finding her way in a new place. The parallels were as clear as the book titles before my eyes.
This year I am gifting a cherished story to the colorful collection of women who guide my daughter daily at her elementary school; celebrating the helpful spirits who nurture her through academic challenges while acknowledging my daughter’s strengths. For the cast of quiet support staff who sprinkle moments of warm hugs and sweet sentiments I am sharing a cup of cocoa, an excuse to indulge in a moment of stillness and reflection steeped in gratitude. Finally, for the two special souls who give my son social sustenance, a place of belonging and camaraderie during the overwhelming lunch hour in the hectic halls of middle school I am indulging in the gift of a meal.
Whimsy and simplicity, nourishment and indulgence for a list of friends whose gifts are greater than my thanks.
scrooge
December 9, 2012 § Leave a comment
At twelve my son has mastered the art of disinterest; his legs stretched, body slumped, eyes intentionally slipping skyward on just audible sighs. I sometimes cringe at the angst that accompanies us on family outings. Yesterday my son’s mood sat between us as we filed into plush red velvet chairs for an afternoon play.
While my daughter marveled at the world hovering in wait for the story, my son mumbled impersonal grievances; the darkness of the storyline, the unnecessary waste of electricity in illuminating the set while patrons waited, the potential toxins in the fog. I mothered accordingly, a tiny squeeze to my daughter’s hand registering her joy and a gentle nudge to my son’s knee to silence his litany of misgivings. It was not that long ago that my son hovered on the edge of an indulgent theater chair lost to the beauty of a performance. Older now he hides his joy with the same choreographed cautiousness he camouflages fears.
Sitting beside my son, I registered the challenges that haunt the experience of the theater. Loud noises and uncomfortable lights trap my son in discomfort. Despite his mature form he still curls into himself when sounds and lights cause discomfort others cannot feel. Hands clamped over his ears and head cast downward I slipped an arm around his now broad shoulders reassuring him I understood and helping to mark the safe places to let go.
Like the story that held my daughter under its spell, my son is sometimes lost to challenges within his own story. Yesterday as we watched a timeless tale of a man reflecting over a lifetime in the space of an evening; coming into consciousness of those around him and the errors of his way; growing into a future shaped by generosity and compassion, I gave thanks for the magic of the season and the gentle lessons not lost to the tiny Scrooge beside me painstakingly hiding his fears beneath layers of bravado despite an unconscious, lopsided grin as he neared the edge of his chair.
{re}gift
December 4, 2012 § 2 Comments
Each holiday season my husband and children seek to uncover my Christmas wish. Fickle in my likes and unimpressed by grand gestures, I tend to wish for intangible things that cannot be wrapped in ribbon. This year, aware that even the littlest elves want to watch their gift uncover a smile of genuine gratitude I have been sifting through sentimental trappings for inspiration. These are my wishes:
A memory. The sight of my children’s handwriting preserving a special moment that I can experience from their perspective.
A book. Pages rifled by a friend’s hand would be well placed on my shelf.
A photograph. Images of moments long passed are snapshots of self we sometimes cannot see.
I have no use for decorations or jewelry, my treasures are inexpensive keepsakes of fortunes untold. This year I am wishing for pieces of the past recycled consciously among the present to cherish for days to come.
finding forgiveness
November 6, 2012 § Leave a comment
Like a pebble in my shoe, life’s joys have rattled the painful pieces free. Old harms are dusty memories tucked away in a past cluttered by the passing of years.
I used to wrestle with forgiveness, grasping for a sense of closure as I mapped a path towards peace. I could list the harm, write letters intimately naming the transgressions against me. Then, one day, a question that would have previously tugged at sorrow or ruffled anger found an empty place. Echos of words that once cast long shadows over bright moments no longer consumed enough of my heart or mind for their darkness to shade my joy. Forgiveness was something found not made.
I am holding tightly to this discovery as I make my way through uncomfortable emotions. As the holidays approach anxiety for the strain of difficult company tugs at my patience and I am breathing deeply, intentionally inviting hope and peace among uncertainty and frustration, embracing my newfound awareness that this too shall pass.
home & holidays
December 27, 2011 § Leave a comment
The traditions and preparations that fill the month of December with busy anticipation have faded into quiet moments, unhurried afternoons of play and rest. While my children were distracted with new gifts and the company of grandparents, I stole a moment yesterday to nestle our ornaments away for the coming year.
The time between Christmas and New Year’s is a celebration of another year shared and of calendar days yet wrapped in wonder; the year ahead a gift of unknown, limitless adventure. While some draft resolutions, schedule plans, pledge promises to others; I try to create room for something new. Like a breath of fresh air waking us from dreams of sugar plums, I affectionately send Christmas to rest and draw an extra chair inviting the New Year into our home.
I gift each child a new calendar and a pen asking them to map their year with dreams. I ask them to envision not only deadlines and routines, but to seek out windows of time for travel and adventure. To look closely at the neat squares on paper that mark the year ahead with opportunity, least they overlook possibility.
a season of thanks & giving
November 13, 2011 § 2 Comments
My little girl is aware of the season, but her daydreams are filled with Christmas. She has begun checking the calendar, counting days, making wishes, and painstakingly writing her list. In sentences sprinkled with upper case and lower case letters, her careful penmanship marked items not for herself, but for family. Something special for her big brother and father, a space for my indecisiveness, but nothing for herself.
Her own wish came spontaneously, with certainty and whimsy, but remained unlisted as her attention was quickly redirected to details of Christmas Eve day; healthy snacks for Santa and a gift to make his job easier. Her blue eyes were wide with intention and sincerity as she outlined her thoughts. Her enthusiasm for giving outshining the eagerness in her own request.
This morning my daughter and I began gathering toys that have sat unused in need of homes for the holidays; making room for something new and sharing something unused; finding joy in what we do not need and gratitude for that which we have. Our minds are wrapped around Christmas, but our hearts filled with Thanksgiving.
scribblechic 