{this moment}

{this moment} - A Friday ritual.  Photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week.  A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. If you're inspired to do the same, visit Soulemama to leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

Small Steps Together: Journey to Joy

For a child who knows she is loved, Christmas Eve is all joyful anticipation. She knows--she just knows--that the hours to come will be filled with joy. She is sure of it. She has faith. Childlike faith.

A child loved by her parents has faith in joy.

She expects it; looks for it. Sure that she will find it.

We are children who know we are loved. We can look for joy and expect to find it.

We are children of a loving Father.

A child loved by God has faith in joy.

I am a child loved by God.

Joy is mine.

And so, we begin the year resolved to look forward with childlike faith to the joy that is the gift of our God. to grow in joy, I have to live joy. It's a circle of blessing.

Small Steps begins with joy because it begins on January first, still in the Christmas season. Still in the glow of the candlelit love. Still with our arms wrapped around the newborn Babe.

I can do this. The book is simple. It's focused. I only need to read a page a day. Pray the prayer. Do the small action item. Grow in virtue. Bless my family. Here we go!

Admittedly, the year has a rough beginning, right from the start. Bright and early on the second day of the new year, Patrick leaves to go back to Florida. I really am not sure when I'll see him again. I tell him goodbye and walk to church. He and Mike leave for the airport. They pass me on the way. He turns to sign "I Love You" as they drive by.

There are all kinds of work to do at home. Mountains of laundry. The fallout of "stuff" from Christmas: decorations, refrigerator full of leftovers (some well past their festiveness). Cranky, tired children who can't at all remember they ever had a rhythm to their days.

And then, there is all the thyroid baggage. "Sluggish" doesn't even begin to describe it. It just seems like I shouldn't have to work so hard to live a life of joy.

The eleventh is a bad day. An angry words, hurt feelings, way beyond tired kind of bad day. So, the twelfth begins with a "bad day hangover."

I start with the act. Just tell me: what's the one more thing I have to do today?

A mother's gentleness springs from the joy of knowing that God is kind and merciful. Just for today, do not speak a word of harshness or frustration; enjoy your family instead. If you blow it it, humble yourself and apologize right away.

Seriously? Who thinks this stuff up?

Not a word of frustration?

I commit the day's prayer to memory:

God grant me the grace and strength to gentle and joyful in all I say and do today.

Gentle and joyful in all...

I resolve to fake it.

I tape the quote to the counter above the sink:

They are led and bound more by gentleness than by force or harsh words.

St. Catherine of Siena was writing about children, but I'm sure the same principle holds true for husbands and people on the other end of the phone.

Gentle joy.

It's a long day, no doubt about it, but I do persevere. And the next day is a little easier. The smile springs just a bit more readily. I remind myself that the book is a perpetual calendar. We'll revisit this again next year. I don't have to perfect it on the first go-round. Or the second. God is kind and merciful. He knows these steps are small. He's patient. His grace is sufficient.

Did you take small steps towards joy this week? Would you share them with us, let us find you and be encouraged? I'd be so grateful and so honored to step with you.

When you write about the small steps of your journey, please grab a button for your own blog. Together, we can do this, step by small step:-). I'm grateful for your warm companionship.

Do it Anyway

No daybook, today. My brain is all amuddle. I'm working overtime to just keep pace, begging grace to sweep away dark thoughts. I don't feel like making my list. I hear Ann. Do it anyway. Eucharisteo. Beg the grace. Count the blessings. Fight for the joy.

Karoline is ever at my side these days. A little beam of sunshine, she is. But also, she seems needy--always tugging at me, always looking for my reassurance. I am reflected in her sunshine--my neediness. Today, we count blessings together. Today, we are reassured

~sweet oranges named Cara Cara

~morning time with Karoline when everyone else sleeps

~a new work in the atrium; appreciating the grace of baptism

~fleece sheets because they are so good to snuggle

~Sarah Annie calls Mary Beth her Fairy Godmother

~that hair grows and bad haircuts won't stay bad forever

~picture books read over and over again

~football food

~folding lavender-scented laundry when it's warm from the dryer

~toilets that flush (because we really don't like the ones that don't flush)

~little girls twirling in "spinny dresses"

~Jesus in Bethlehem

You pick the rest mom; I'm sleepy of this...

~an email that is healing balm and the sweet soul who sent it

~the way frosty grass crunches beneath my feet

~football in the backyard and rosy-cheeked boys

~ballet in the living room and rosy-hued girls

~friends for tea

~gluten free waffles on sale and the thoughtfulness of the man who bought them

~a run by the sushi restaurant on the way home from church

~the way she eats the top of the chocolate donut, leaving deliciousness all over her delectable dimples

~the rich glow of these hardwood floors, a year old now and the gift they've given us on Monday afternoons. spin and twirl, girls. you can!

~the silencer in my cell phone. i'm missing calls and messages; it's true, but I'm also escaping the tyranny of the urgent. life is not an emergency.

~a movie in bed with my husband and the big kids. a new tradition? i hope.

~birthdays and bad hair days. {i remember life threatening disease and baldness.} i count them blessings. all of them.

{this moment}

{this moment} - A Friday ritual.  Photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week.  A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. If you're inspired to do the same, visit Soulemama to leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

Katie's First Basketball Game

On the morning of her first basketball game, Katie was up and dressed by 6:30. Her game was at 1:00 pm. Very long morning. I had heard reports from the other children that she was doing well at practice. We all headed out with high hopes for about as much fun as second grade girls' basketball could be.

The girls were so excited.

Katie could not stop smiling. Or bouncing.

 Katie played point guard. In second grade girls' basketball, a coach is allowed to be on the court and --ahem-- micromanage. We learned very quickly just how necessary this provision is.

Michael is her assistant coach. Christian kept the books. Mike kept time. It didn't take long for Mary Beth and me, from across the court, to tune in to the amusing show happening there.

They were incredulous. Much shock and amazement. At first, there was a worried air. They were beginning to notice a trend: she takes the ball up the court, all bounces and smiles, and then she keeps it. She doesn't pass. She doesn't shoot. She just smiles for the crowd.

Then, it became apparent that she will likely never shoot. Or pass.

Just bounce and smile. The men in the family were perplexed. They also cringed every time the coach yelled, "Foss."

They tried to explain the fine (and not so fine) points of playing point guard. They really did try. Really.

Then they gave up.

{Note to the boys: If you just roll with it, it's so very entertaining.}

Mike came over to sit with me. Michael wondered if he really has a future in athletics. Christian looked like he wanted to die.

Katie kept smiling.

And bouncing.