It’s quiet when I slip into my chair. Quiet. I inhale deeply, drinkingthe lingering scent of incense. I have brought a book with me, but it sits unopened on my lap. I don’t want to read. Instead, I just want to sit here and take it all in. Here is the answer to my oft-repeated plea. Here is strength and grace to live a life of love.
It was a job I loved. Mostly, I worked from home, editing amagazine written for mothers at home, by mothers at home. Though I was one of the youngest women on the staff, I had considerable responsibility and creative license. I loved the writing; I loved the once or twice monthly meetings in the office. And I was ever so grateful for the wise, thoughtful women who were personal mentors as much as they were professional colleagues.
So, it was with considerable regret that I resigned. I remember the moment of that decision. I had a new baby—my third—and we were camped out on my bed. He was nursing, propped up on my lap as I spread manuscripts into piles all over the bed and reached for them as best I could without detaching. It didn’t take much for the irony to strike.
I was working so hard to promote mindful mothering, to encourage smart women to choose home, and yet here I was shortchanging the most basic of all mothering experiences. I was leaning over my nursing baby to get to my work. I was wedging conversations with my young children between phone calls to writers and publishers. I was making all my editorial deadlines, often at the expense of the relationships under my roof. Some women were able to juggle all that and more with love and grace, but not me. Not well. It was time to acknowledge that I could do one thing well, but not both. There just wasn’t enough of me. I learned to say, “I’m sorry, I can’t do that.”
And I’ve said it again and again in the years since then.
I’m sorry, I can’t speak at that conference, though it would be a dream come true and I’m so honored that you thought of me. [Y'all please go and tell me all about it.]
I’m sorry I can’t work on that project, though it tickles every creative bone in body.
I’m sorry, I can’t go to the homeschool support group meeting tonight.
I’m sorry, I can’t take that phone call, even though it’s a good friend and a chat would be a nice diversion right now.
Do you know about the rocks, the pebbles, and the sand? Go read it; I’ll wait.
I’m sorry, I just can’t do that thing that looks so good. I have to put the big rocks in first, and I have more big rocks than the average bear.
My son and I had a talk about time management recently and it forced me to sit and evaluate my “big rocks.”
I am committed to a life of prayer.
Big, big rocks.
The rest is pebbles. And frankly, there’s not a whole lot of room for sand.
Living commitment to the big rocks is a decision.
Sometimes, as when I left the magazine or an online haven that had been a second home, it’s a big, huge decision.
More often, it’s a series of small decisions, like reading email but not stopping to answer it right away (or sadly, sometimes not ever) or forgoing lots of daily conversation with other women in order to save my words and my heart for the man who comes through the door at night.
Or the God who waits for me to talk with Him.
People often ask “how I do it.”
All too often, the answer is “not very well.”
But those are always the times when I haven’t said it.
“I’m sorry; I can’t do that.”
Outside My Window::
::more rain.
I am Listening to::
::my floors. Boy are they noisy! Late at night, when the house is still, they creak like crazy. I guess they are just settling into our home. But my "mama ear" is conditioned to awaken when the floors creak. Heretofore, that meant someone was up and about. These floors have a life of their own. I haven't slept soundly in two weeks.
I am wearing ::
:: boot cut jeans, boots, a blue turtleneck sweater, lip gloss. I'm happy to report that I've been wearing real clothes since my pre-dawn trip to the airport in a monsoon.
I am Thankful For::
::Signing Time and a baby who is clearly delighted to communicate.
I am Pondering:
::"We all have important other things we want to work on. When you come into the kitchen, the thing to remember is that you're going to be there for a certain time. Drop everything else and concentrate on doing the very best you can." ~Laurel Robertson on how to find the time to invest in cooking.
I am Reading:
From the Kitchen::
::Mary Beth and I have been cooking from the Pioneer Woman's new cookbook. After about three days, I was crying "Uncle!" and reaching for Laurel's Kitchen. PW is a bit too rich for every day. As we cook and talk about cookbooks, we've been down that ol' nutrition rabbit trail. Just what is the optimal diet? Ah, the eternal question.
I am Thinking:
::That when it comes to mothers and children, husbands and wives, there is no such thing as bittersweet. Bitter women cannot be sweet and families need ample daily servings of sweet women.
I am Creating::
::a home. I'm investing my whole heart in the endeavor. It's well worth it, I think.
On my iPod::
::iBreviary, though I am increasingly frustrated when it doesn't update reliably. I'm thinking about splurging on Universalis.
Towards a Real Education::
::We're working on finishing up some faith notebooks this week.
Towards Rhythm and Beauty:
::I'm preparing for inevitable shift in rhythm that will come with Mike's absence.
::To Live the Liturgy:
::gathering candles and candlemaking supplies in preparation for Candlemas next week.
::I am Hoping and Praying:
:: for my husband, whose workload has suddenly tripled.
In the Garden:
::it's time to peruse seed catalogs.
Around the House:
::The contractor is currently AWOL, with about 400 square feet of flooring left to nail down. La la la la
On Keeping Home:
::I'm so grateful that homemaking is such a creative endeavor and I'm even more grateful that it's a creative endeavor that requires the work of my hands. It's a blessing to be able to create away from desk and computer.
One of My Favorite Things:
::arriving flights
Sarah Annie this week:
::She's signing like crazy all of sudden, much to our delight. I'm sharing her favorite "sign" below.
A Few Plans for the Rest of the Week:
::Hopefully, the contractor will reappear and we will complete this flooring project. Then, we can move back into our home at last.
A Picture Thought I'm sharing:
Touchdown!
Nicky taught her this particular "sign."
Sarah Annie is now a bona fide Peyton Manning fan.
I was quite astonished this weekend to find a very kind note from Kim Avery, inviting me to post this graphic on my blog and congratulating me for being named a top ten blogger for Christian women. Do visit the list of winners. I found some familiar favorites there and added some bright new places to my Google Reader as well. I'm honored to be counted among them. Thank you!
Go visit the ever-lovely Sarah for some ideas on how to conquer mid-winter burnout.
I'm Elizabeth. I'm a happy wife and the mother of nine children. I grab grace with both hands and write to encourage myself and others to seize and nurture the joy of every day. I blog here with my daughter, Mary Beth, a wholehearted young lady on the brink of adulthood.
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