truth is
December 29, 2012 § 2 Comments
Last night I endeavored to guide my daughter’s behavior with information and experience, appealing to her common sense with critical thinking. If A, then B.
The topic of conversation was secondary to the posturing between us. I was doggedly determined my daughter defer to my logic. Sleepy and stubborn her body language told me my words were tumbling into the space between us, lost.
Letting go of the irritation nagging me along, I changed tactics confessing in a tone clear of sarcasm and heavy with humor: I understand that at 8 years old you feel like you know everything and it seems I, so much older than you, do not know as much as I think.
The response was instant amusement. A brilliant toothless smile and easy laugh, followed by my daughter’s own admission: I do think that a lot.
More giggles, this time from both of us. Laughter splashing against logic.
Humor and humility resulted in an amusingly honest exchange. Truth is, I don’t mind being fallible or looking silly so long as my daughter is listening.
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.
be
December 26, 2012 § 1 Comment
I write about stillness, invite the concept into my consciousness, absorb its peace, and prescribe its healing powers. This year as I endeavor to name goals, or perhaps hopes, for the coming New Year I realize my greatest wish has little to do with increasing, decreasing, eliminating, or adding. Rather I want merely to be.
Present. Peaceful. Still.
I want to worry less about the next moment and invite myself to simply accept each moment at face value. I don’t want to dwell in worries or fears for my son’s challenges. I don’t want to measure my daughter’s growth academically gauging success against failure. I don’t want to limit romance to date nights with my husband or family time to specific activities. These measurements suffocate the air from living, leaving us grasping greedily for something outside the moment we are in.
This is not to say I do not have concrete goals. My life needs priorities and structure as much as it craves happy surprises, but this year I cannot confine needs and wants neatly to numbers.
This year I acknowledge my old list is ever-present, my resolve reaffirmed, my intent condensed to One Little Word. Be.
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.
to my children
December 23, 2012 § Leave a comment
December is a flurry of expectations: gingerbread houses, letters to Santa, homemade cookies, and holiday board games set to a soundtrack of Christmas carols. When Christmas Eve finally arrives I will barely sleep for the anticipation of your footsteps in search of stockings and gasps of delight; bright eyes and unchecked eagerness. Surprise will fade to distraction as you busy yourself exploring your gifts and I will suddenly miss the longing of the day before.
Here is the secret I took too long to understand, do not be too eager to have everything because there is something invaluable about carrying a wish close to your heart. The truth that makes the secret sweeter is this: the greatest gifts are ever present. Remember that the grand moments pass quickly, but the little things hold the promise of endless joy.
Love, Mom
ready
December 21, 2012 § 2 Comments
This week an old friend inquired if I were ready for the holidays. It was a simple question, a common well-practiced seasonal nicety juggled between friends and strangers in passing. I set aside a routine, impersonal answer or playful jest and dug deeper for a more genuine answer.
There are a few lingering tasks, but I am indulging in time with family and friends between the busyness of my daily commitments; taking a moment to celebrate my simple blessings with consciousness centered in gratitude and joy.
I stepped just far enough outside the anticipated answer inviting a conversation, giving a moment of time and considering the question with sincerity. This is the magic of the season. Pausing, breathing, taking time in a world of convenience to move a little slower.
Strangers breeze through coffee houses stopping abruptly to hold a door and share a seasonal greeting. Friends send cards with handwritten sentiments and stories in photographs. We share our homes and honor our faith in something more. We do these things with intention, slowing our pace to encompass these acts of kindness.
This year I am hoping the spirit of the holidays will follow us into the New Year. I am ready.
a book shared
December 20, 2012 § Leave a comment
Once upon a book store, there was a book I could not leave behind. I tried to imagine a home for it upon my shelves, but it seemed intended for somewhere else. Wanting to keep it close, struggling to say goodbye, I wrapped it tenderly and sent it to my daughter’s elementary school library. Today I borrowed it from the librarian’s cart, sharing it with my daughter.
Side by side tucked among rows of books we marveled over the illustrations as we unraveled poignant prose. In our quiet corner of the library we followed a young man between pages as he befriended books, gathering stories into his life while writing his own. Happily, the story does not end when main character comes to the end of his life. Rather his story captures the heart of a young girl sending her on a journey of her own, giving flight to another chapter.
Page by page I revisited my own love story beside one of my greatest loves. It was a moment borrowed and shared like so many of our quiet companions stacked neatly in want of a reader. In this spirit, I share with you a title for your own shelves:
The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore by William Joyce and Joe Bluhm.
december
December 18, 2012 § 2 Comments
The crispness in the air, an unspoken promise of snow. Homes aglow as evening descends earlier directing us inward, begging reflection and meditation.
As my holiday tasks come to a close I have redirected my daydreams toward rest and play, anticipating my children’s snow clothes strewn haphazardly beside the door and books tented on armrests. Soon I will wander less from home as I avoid the cold and burdensome baggage of bulky winter wear.
I find myself ready for empty tree limbs cradling snowflakes and excuses to stay tucked indoors. I am ready to be still, to center myself and my home with greater care.
naming fear
December 17, 2012 § Leave a comment
In the wake of tragedy, there exists a dialogue of fear. News networks race to assign blame, naming fear. As we endeavor to comprehend that which seems to contradict logic I hope that our hearts will nudge our minds open, making room for compassion. Let us not rest blame for violence on the shoulders of children navigating a world veiled by special needs or mental illness.
My son and so many others on the Autism Spectrum, often misunderstood and sometimes mistreated for their differences, cannot bear the weight of labels written in fear. Do not place this tragedy upon their shoulders. Lend my son and his community friendship in the face of fear, extend kindness to better understand individuals whose needs place a responsibility for compassion in place of judgment.
It would be simple to blame guns. Take them away and we are left with a conversation that reaches beyond weapons to messages of intolerance in a broken world. If we are to name our fear let us call out intolerance and complacency, ignorance and disconnect. Rather than point fingers, reach out a hand to those who stand alone. Wounds fester in hate and anger, we heal with love and compassion.
cheating grief
December 16, 2012 § Leave a comment
It is too simple to say that my heart aches as a mother, I grieve as a piece of a greater whole shattered into broken pieces by an act of violence. In the days since learning of the tragedy in Connecticut I welcomed moments of darkness, apologizing for my blessings. Quietly my mind began inviting What If and Could Have Been among countless memories of mornings shared in my children’s elementary school, the teachers and staff I consider friends, of my own children trapped in a nightmare from which they could not wake. Then I imagined the unimaginable, until the immediate sense of suffocation shut the door to fear and grief refusing to hold them in my heart, forbidding them from my mind.
This grief is at once not my own and all of ours. I can ache with all the imagined pain of my nightmares, but I have not walked in the shoes of those relearning to breathe as they move through days whose meaning is misplaced. I cannot assume another’s pain, rather I must move within my home and community creating threads of compassion and kindness connecting broken pieces into something beautiful.
Casting out the shadows of sorrow I am gathering light, carrying a consciousness of Friday’s tragedy, accepting the responsibility we share as a community to be present and stand as witnesses. Intentionally, I am practicing small acts of love to cheat grief of its paralyzing fear. Hoping to honor the lives lost too early with lives well lived.
scribblechic 