It seems like summer has taken it's cue from the arrival of June because all of the sudden it is hot. Time for sundresses, sprinkler's, popsicle's and pool days.
We recently got a membership to the nature center. I like this kind of outing with the kids where we can wander around, have a picnic, and look at animals. Here they are in a little "whoo, whoo..." chorus with the owl. And here is Ella striking a pose. The kids are in vacation Bible school this week so we took Naya out for a breakfast date. I am enjoying the lovely quiet mornings with Naya all to myself.
Anniversaries are good times to reminisce about how we met and what a surprise it was to end up with someone so different from me but how it made so much sense too. I like to go back to how we got engaged and the day we got married. To our honeymoon of white sand beaches in Jamaica, and a garden that seeped with unfamiliar scents of tropical trees and hibiscus where our little cottage was. A little missionary woman owned the gardens and would bring us lemon cocktails on her porch. She would tell us stories in a part British , part Jamaican accent like we where her kids. Her porch was shrouded with flowering vines and suspended colorful glass balls that used to be the floats from fishing boats. She'd have fresh breadfruit and flowers put in our cottage daily. I love to remember the rustic castle in Negril we stayed in for 35 dollars a night with no hot water and huge arched glassless windows to where all you heard at night was the crashing waves on the rocks below. Everything about the place seemed enchanted magnified I'm sure by the afterglow of new love. The word honeymoon has long been one of my favorite words and ours surpassed all my sweet expectations.
I was also pensive about the reality of how hard marriage is. How it can come under attack and how difficult it is to let go and learn selflessness. I could reflect on times of disunity when there was a loneliness deeper than I ever knew when I was single. As I think about these last nine years of marriage I am so thankful to have grown so much with Josh, to be past some the tumultuous drama that came with marrying young. It truly has gotten better with each passing year. There is a quieter solid contentedness that has grown. Marriage has been both the most intensely difficult and intensely beautiful of human relationships. We are humbled by our flesh but overwhelmed with gratitude that a cord of three strands is not quickly broken.
We talked about some of these things over a very nice anniversary dinner and then he handed me my card. I have shared lots of things I love about Josh but thus far, I've not mentioned his adorable habit of giving me the most creative cards. When we were dating and he studied abroad I filled a box with his creations, everything from his face on David Hasslehoff's body to letter's written entirely in a spiral so you'd have to keep spinning the paper. Some would make me laugh out loud and others would melt me with thoughtfulness. As we talked into the evening I really felt overwhelmed with thankfulness for this man that I want to grow old with. He is a blessing to me every day.
Friday, May 23, 2008
I suppose I've been a little scarce on the blog front lately. I use this space kind of like a kid with her pockets full of all her flowers and rocks and treasures. I store up everyday moments, thoughts, conversations and little faces I don't want to forget. It's my pocket of delights of sorts, that I lay out for anyone who happens by. You would not have to have spent much time here to see that I'm an idealist, a hopeless romantic; I see the good in people and rosy tinted glasses are usually firmly affixed to my face. It's not that those pleasures are trite but I've had other things floating around my head lately. Images of moms and dads that sent their kids off to school in the morning and later in the day recovered their bodies from the rubble of schools destroyed in the earthquakes in parts of Asia. I can not imagine. I'm thinking of someone in my family who is sitting in a hospital somewhere in Philadelphia praying for his mom to wake up. I'm thinking of the homeless woman I watched in my rear view mirror while I looked at myself and my girls all clean and pretty in Sunday dress and everything in me felt a pull to skip church and listen to her story, to offer some help. And I was torn as I watched her fade from view and then went and listened to a sermon on justice. It's funny sometimes how I study people. I watched the woman on break from the DUI school. I did a mental photo documentary of her, the lines near her eyes as she squinted in the sun, her bony fingers curled around her cigarette. I watch the man in the park who's always alone and I wonder where his family is or if has one anymore. Sometimes it's hard not to feel the weight of people's suffering. It makes us human. There 's no point in comparing pain. Everyone has their story and has or will have losses. But maybe it's all part of why the words in this book are so beautiful they make me cry, and why I feel a connection to this song...
So as I left the dirty dishes and the yelling kids to head out for an evening walk, because I was craving silence, these are the things I pondered. When my spirit's heavy it's good to be alone. I stare out at the twilight clouds and my soul is hushed and I breath deep the last magnolia blooms and honeysuckle. I watch the sparrows play I think it's all part of the whole. The losses, the sadness make these things more precious. I can choose to make choices that cause stress. I can choose to stay at odds with my husband because we've been too busy to connect. I could distract myself from feeling the heaviness and the suffering of others but I don't want to. I want to be bold in love, in prayers, and in action. The sun will rise in the morning and a day will start afresh to make of it what I will. My pockets are full.
Our mothers... what a thing to celebrate. They were there when we took our first breath, our first day of school, our first heart-break, they were biting their lips when we first started driving, they feel our disappointments with us and our smile makes their heart sing. They are those women who, for many of us are pillars of strength and the ones we have to thank for some the good we see in ourselves. Today I also send prayers up for all those women who have lost their moms or had miscarriages or who desperately want to be a mother. I say this remembering my first mothers day after losing our first child. Peace be with you on days like today.
I thought I'd share some photos, the first of which is by Elliot Erwitt who is one of my favorite photographers. I love how it captures the indescribable bond of a mother and baby. The second is by Leon Levinstein and the third by Wayne Miller. But these are the moms that mean the most to me. The first raised the man I love and blows any negative mother-in-law stereo type out of the water. She exudes nurturing and from the first time I met her she took me under her wings like she has so many over the years. Lastly, is my very own beautiful mother who has given more than I could express. Since I have become a mom I realize more fully just how amazing she is.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Sometimes there are days when being a mom is not all things rosy. There are days when no matter what you do, your kids just aren't happy. There are days when they fight and they go to time out for the same thing three times in a row. There are days when you are trying to teach your child to be patient and kind but you feel like being neither. Some days you're busy all day long but you can't find one thing to show for it, and you wonder why your mind can't stay in one direction for longer than ten seconds. There are days where your heart is heavy about things that you don't have time to let surface. There are days you realize that no matter how much you pour yourself out, you'll never be enough. There are days when you fantasize about having a few minutes to yourself to exercise, or go to the library, or go shopping. There are days when you vaguely remember what naps felt like. There are days when you realize you must be getting old because the stuff you used to blast from the cd player is being replaced with calming voices like Hem and Rosie Thomas because you can't handle the volume after the demands of kids all day long. On those days when the only time you're forced to be still is to nurse the one who doesn't talk or fight yet, you use those moments to cry cause you're worn out and dissappointed in yourself, but oh so thankful for grace and that you're not alone in this parenting thing.
Even on the those harder more exhausting days of parenting I'm reminded that there's no where in the world I'd rather be than with my sweet ones. In the midst of little hands always pawing at me and little voices always needing me, I rest in the joy and the blessing that they are and pray for grace to shepherd their hearts. And when her tiny hands reach up for mine I think on how rich these little people have made me and how thankful I am that one wiser and stronger than I, holds them.
there is ease and comfort in his presence, he loves children and is a favorite friend to lots of nieces and nephews, he is really good at anticipating needs, he's a hard worker, he's analytical and challenging, he lives his faith in quiet acts of servanthood to those around him, he has deep conviction but is also gentle, he's got a big heart and a big smile, and the boy can whistle like nobody's business.
The unique thing about siblings, of which I have been blessed four times over, is that they share your history, they carry the same sorrows and memories and laugh at the same things and are moved by the same things. There is just nothing like having best friends that you've loved since day one. Happy birthday baby brother.
That is the name of these stunning flowers I couldn't resist, very fitting for these little beauties. While researching how to extend their life in the garden, I discovered that they are entirely poisonous. So we will be keeping Naya far from them since she has been known to suck on a stray dandelion now and again. We've been spending lots of time outside enjoying the longer hours of sunlight and the yard that Josh has been working on. He built a wall with the help of some very kind friends) added a stone ramp and brick patio. After I just happened to mention how lovely I thought it would be to lay outside at night watching stars with an arbor full of dangling lights and flowers, he drew up a sketch and built me one. Some things I love lately: the smell of wet soil, perfect breezes and full blossomed trees, garden lights, and bare feet, reading books out loud with Josh,listening to Naya mimic words and animal noises and... of course strawberries and whipped cream,(apparently enough to make ya go cross-eyed.)
The above photo is my sweet niece Dove. Our home has been in constant motion lately as we've been having some bonding time with the girls while their folks are out of town. My kids are loving the extended slumber party. We've had dance parties, outings to the aquarium, art projects, movies and stories.
Just in case you were wondering where I've been, we just got back from a wonderful week of vacation. Last week with the mini-van full of three babes,one mama, one papa, one Nana and backpacks bursting with sand toys, bathing-suits, sunscreen and books we hit the road for the Florida coast. I love that little burst of energy as the miles pass, the climate changes and the trees and flowers are different and you pass the groves of citrus trees heavy with fruit. Josh's grandma has an ocean front place there and this is the third year we have had the absolute blessing of vacationing there for free. There is something so wonderful about getting away, where the piles of bills on the desk and the clutter that makes it's home in corners doesn't taunt you while you are trying to relax. We soaked in the sunshine, played in the sand, walked and rested. Naya was a brave little thing and could not get enough of the ocean. She would make a dash for the water every chance she got. She also loved watching the seagulls. My mom taught her to mimic their call and she does it every time she sees a bird. My mom has a harder time getting around now than she used to, but she so wanted to get in the ocean. She doesn't let things stop her and her energy and joyful spirit far surpass any limitations.
Almost every morning I would walk on the beach in the darkness until the sun made it's grand entrance over the water bathing the day in newness. The solitude with nothing but sand and the forever ocean was a really good way to wake to the day. There is something in me I can't put my finger on that is filled, with my feet sunk deep in the cool sand, immersed in that ancient rhythm, the ebb and flow of the tides, the ocean in all it's power and mystery, rage and calm beauty all at once.
Mindful
Every day I see or hear something that more or less kills me with delight, that leaves me like a needle in a haystack of light. It is what I was born for- to look ,to listen, to lose myself in the soft world- to instruct myself over and over in joy, and acclamation. Nor am I talking about the exceptional, the fearful,the dreadful, the very extravagant- but the ordinary, the common, the very drab, the daily presentations. Oh, good scholar, I say to myself, how can you help but grow wise with such teachings as these- the untrimmable light of the world, the ocean's shine, the prayers that are made out of grass? ~by Mary Oliver~
