these are the days

There are some days, moments even, in which I find the need to capture it all, try to sear it into my brain.  This is important because I find that if I can hold onto some impression of the holy moments, it can sometimes be enough to take me through the moments of struggle.  We’ve had a lot of struggle lately, so it was so good for my soul to have a glimpse of heaven this weekend.

I love three day holiday weekends.  I don’t know what it’s like for you, but sometimes weekends can be a challenge for me.  I look forward to them, eager with anticipation, but often forget that much of my life doesn’t look any different on a weekend.  It’s not like when I worked a regular 9-5 paying job.  I still get up to my daily grind, but often with the help and companionship of my husband.  This is great, usually, but it can take us a bit to find our stride in a weekend.  There is a shift that takes place, from me running the household by myself, to me allowing room for him, too.  It can be an odd bumping and jostling before we remember how to do this, find our rhythm again.  That’s the beauty of the three-day -weekend.  It allows us more grace in this process, more time to figure it out.

Because of all of this, my day of grace, moments of beauty and clarity, came Monday, day three of the weekend.  It has been hot here in the Northeast.  And humid.  Summer has come early, and we weren’t ready.  I have been scrambling to unearth our summer clothes, and surprised by the lack of correct sizes of shorts and t-shirts for the little ones.  We found our blow-up baby pool in the basement, dug out our pump, pinched together swimsuits, and have taken up residence ankle deep in the brisk hose water.  This year the Eldest is old enough to have such imaginative fun with water, and mud, and grass, and a few select containers.  The Littlest is finally old enough to be left more on her own, and she is nothing if not an imitator of her older brother.  My husband and I spent our morning sipping coffee together and actually having conversations, (grown up ones!) watching the kids play, long and hard.  Glory.

Of course, hard play in the sun yields great naps for everyone, and we capped the day off with backwards dinner, dining on local ice cream from the farm/creamery near us.  Of course no visit here is complete without giving our regards to the cows, the sheep, the pigs, the ducks, and the barn cats.  Ice cream and a barnyard — does it get any better for little ones?

I sank into bed last night, knowing that I needed to tuck this day away in the creases of my mind.  I need to be able to call upon this when I am losing my mind, listening to the tantrums and the whining, feeling stuck and alone.  See, some days are better than others.

{this moment}

{this moment} – A Friday ritual. A single photo – no words (ok, some words) – capturing a moment from the week  (this week in history). A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. ~inspired by SouleMama

Happy anniversary, dear husband of mine.  It has been a beautiful nine years.  Because my words are fuzzy, I found these:  Emerging Mummy had me in tears, feeling the SAME way, and Ann Voskamp, always an inspiration, has a way with words.

{this moment}

{this moment} – A Friday ritual. A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. ~inspired by SouleMama

stormy weather

I love emotions.  Truly I do.  The range and depth of stuff that we are created to feel is crazy.  I am an emotional being, with my own surges of highs and lows, ebbs and flows.  True to the red-headed nature that I bear, I am often a passionate torrent.  What this means is that I generally feel really strongly, sometimes good and sometimes not-so good.

Lately, I’ve been making my own storm.  I’ve been grumpy.  I’ve had opinions, strong ones, over silly small things, creating arguments where there needn’t be ones.  I’ve been blustery with the people I’m with.  Yes, it has been a rainy overcast week here, and I’m sure part of my being feels a need to mirror this landscape.  But I also know there is a part of me that just needs to embrace gloom for a moment.  It doesn’t do me any good to force that cloud down, hide it under some blankets, and put on a smiley face.  I know myself better than that.  I’m only asking for trouble, because that storm will sneak it’s way out, and in the most unwanted of places, and there can often be a higher price to pay.

This passion, right now wrapped up in my internal storm, has brilliance, too.  Brightness and light.  These are things I’ve experienced and felt just as deeply, and are also why I’m OK with my funk right now.  I know that if I let myself be, feel what it is that I want to feel, I’ll come around.  In being true to my storm, I can also truly know the beauty and peace that comes after it.  If I faked my way through my tougher days, than somehow there would be a veneer to the joy, too.

Today, though I’m still brewing.  With no real target to my emotions, I am going to allow myself the space to swirl about.  I’m tending to keep to myself until I land on solid ground again.  And I have every confidence that I will have joy to the same degree.

lessons from little ones

Every day there are these countless moments of authentic life and I’m always learning and growing from the short people that I spend my days with.  I was particularly touched by this episode that happened with my Eldest the other night.

Sweet treats are not an every day occurrence in this household, but I had recently been shopping and purchased one of my weaknesses, Mint Milano cookies (you know you love them, too).  The Eldest had eaten a particularly good dinner, and we’d had a lovely day together with little fussing and whining, so when he asked for a special snack after dinner, I didn’t hesitate.

As part of our daily nigthttime routine, the Eldest listens to the the Littlest’s bedtime story, and they say their goodnights (which right now is the sweetest back and forth of hugs and kisses, both stretching out their arms wide, saying “this much” to indicate the breadth of their love.  sigh).  As I rock and nurse the Littlest to bed, my husband and the Eldest then together do a puzzle or read a book while they wait for me, sometimes with a snack. This night was no different, except that my sister was also with us, for the added snuggle.

The Eldest of course reminded my husband of the promised sweet treat, and together they marched to the cabinet to get the Milanos.  My husband took the bag and lowered it down to the Eldest to pick a cookie.  He also asked my sister if she would like one; she said yes.  He asked the Eldest to please hand her a cookie.  The Eldest looked into the bag and after a brief moment’s hesitation picked out the cookie, and slowly, with sad eyes, willingly handed the cookie to his Aunt.  Confused about the hesitation, my husband glanced into the bag and noticed that it had been the last cookie on that layer.  (You know how Pepperidge Farm cookies are in those little paper cups?  in layers?  yeah).  But of course the Eldest didn’t know that; I don’t think he’d ever had one of these cookies before.  He really, truly thought that there were no more cookies.  He had what he thought was the last one in his hand, and he gave it away.

The gloom did not last long, as my husband saw what had just happened, and quickly peeled up the paper cup to reveal the next layer of cookies, just waiting for his eager hands.  The Eldest got his cookie, and snuggled with his Aunt a bit longer.

Do you see what happened there?  Without hesitation, without fight, without question he gave what he so desperately wanted, so much thought he deserved, to someone else.  He loves his Aunt, of course.  He is a tender soul, with amazing empathy for a  three-year-old.  He didn’t want my sister to go without.  He didn’t know the underlying bounty, he only knew what he could see.  I am so inspired by this selfless act of love.  Sure, it was just a cookie.  But it is so much more.

Especially as a mom, there are moments when I don’t want to give any more.  I see the bottom of the pot, and it appears as though there will be nothing left.  How many times do I fail to see the layer underneath?  By not giving selflessly, out of love, am I missing God’s bounty for me, and for those in my life?

And that was just today’s lesson.  Boy, I have a lot to learn.