Bright Days

It's 7:45 on Saturday morning. I've already worked out. I sat on the front steps with a mug of Red Zinger infused with raw honey and cayenne pepper. My bags are at the ready as soon as the Famer's Market opens. 

Weekend.

Mike was gone all last week. Did you notice without me even saying so;-)? He arrived home yesterday late afternoon and began to put my world in order again. (Not literally--he's not much of cleaner-upper.) It amazes me how much effect one person can have on the heart of a household. For me, it's the presence or absence of my husband that is most notable. But I notice the comings and goings of children, too.

This weekend brings us very much into graduation season. This is the year of Patrick's graduation. Well, not really. Patrick graduated early, but it is the year he would have graduated. So, it's the year his friends graduate. Patrick collects friends like a dog on the trail in the autumn gathers burrs. He has lots and lots of them. And Patrick keeps friends. They've all grown up together. So, we are drawn into his flurry of activity this week as all those little boys he played soccer with since he was four celebrate this rite of passage. 

We also have some matching cousins. Mike's sister and I were pregnant at the same time four different times. Our babies were within weeks of each other. For Christian, there was Catie Lea. For Patrick, there was Erin. For Stephen, there was John. And for Katie, there was Brian. I look with amazement at my lovely niece, Erin, who has grown into a woman of incredible grace and courage and I am so grateful that these days dawn bright for her. With her big sister, and with Christian, they will be a community of cousins in the same place next fall. That makes my heart happy.

Hilary, too, crosses this bridge. For nearly two years, it's been Hilary-and-Paddy, Paddy-and-Hilary. We're all kind of holding our collective breath to see how this transition is navigated for them. But Hilary's leaving will be felt somewhere else as well. One of Hilary's costumes rests on my counter. It's awaiting a temporary adjustment so that it will fit Mary Beth. It's a costume of a ringleader. It's still Hilary's. She will wear it again when the girls all dance together in their spring recital and then compete one last time together in July. But Senior Beach Week calls Hilary away from a performance next week.  Mary Beth will be the ringleader. Still, no one will fill Hilary's dancing shoes.

I can't keep my mind from reminding me that all her life Mary Beth has followed Patrick and Erin. She's been right behind them. This year, she's here to slip into that costume. She is firmly rooted at the studio day after day, eagerly soaking up even hand-me-down roles. Still, whatever they've done, she's done soon after. Don't go there! Don't think for one moment today, Mama, about the day when your three little girls say goodbye to their personal ringleader. Stay in the moment. You must in order to survive. It's here in earnest: the season of a mother's goodbyes.

Patrick, of course, came home for the weekend, bringing Zach along for the ride. He wouldn't miss this for the world. It's a weekend of carefully planned parties, each timed so that one doesn't encroach upon another. Instead, my social butterfly can just flit from one to the next, reveling in merriment. Patrick definitely brings his own energy to the household. This weekend, he'll be sharing energy all over Northern Virginia. 

And I'll be doing what I do. Filtering the energy. Storing it. Letting it soak in. These bright days are fleeting. I'm trying to capture them like fireflies in a Mason jar on a perfect June evening.

needle & thREAD

Remember how I said I wanted slow? Turns out I have it in the reading and sewing departments;-). I've made very little progress since last we chatted books and sewing. The voile frays easily and I think I need to use French seams. Anybody have French seams advice?

I intended to put this sweet little top together yesterday afternoon, but there was a crowd of children who all look very much alike gathered in my great room watching Midsummer Night's Dream and I kept being inexplicably pulled into their presence.

Especially delightful was watching how perplexed Mary Beth and Christian were when Karoline kept explaining plot and characters. At first, everyone (except Karoline and Sarah) were a bit at a loss with the language and the names. When Karoline kept filling in the blanks for them and then Sarah embellished Kari's tutorial, the big kids were more than a little chagrined. How were the little girls comprehending so well when they were struggling? Then it was revealed that they'd recently been reading this excellent picture book and listening to this read aloud.

The whole scenario did make me wonder though: print version first or performance first? Shakespeare's plays were written to be viewed by an audience. But the language does make it tricky to follow along the first time you see it.

Last night, we found ourselves at Michael's and Kristin's house. Knowing I had no sewing to report, I asked Kristin about  her quilt. I think perhaps she'll come back and report on it another day. Stephen is trying out for a new soccer team that is 24 minutes from our house and 4 minutes from theirs. I currently allocate an hour to get to the team where he's played for the the last five years. That team is dissolving. This one sure looks like an answer to prayers. Is it fair to ask your prayers on this one?

How is your summer sewing coming along? Leave a link and show and tell or just chat about it in the comments:-)

Self Care

So, it's the year of Renew.

I had big aspirations.

I can't believe it's June. I can't believe I still have so far to go. Just as I committed to renewal, the pace in this household sped up to where I can barely keep up. But I am keeping up. I'm just not quite sure if that's a good thing.

I think, at heart, I'm the slow type. Slow food. Slow web. Long, slow reads. Slow. I'm definitely the slow type. And I'm the quiet type. I love my time alone with my thoughts. I'm fed by quiet. I know that about myself. I always envisioned myself on three acres or so in a rural town with a sweet library. I even know the town. The librarian there is a dear friend.

Every once in awhile, when Mike and I both feel like we've reached maximum household pressure, we stop and reevaluate. We ask ourselves the same questions. Why are we here (not the existensial why, but the why do we live in this particular place why)? What are we doing? What are they doing (our children)? 

We are blessed that he has a good job. In this economy, when jobs are precious, he has a creative job with a strong company. He has a lot of mouths to feed and he keeps them well fed. True, his job requires him to be here and to be 1000 miles away at the same time. True, it often feels as if he's working two jobs. Still, we are grateful for his work. And we are grateful for mine. Though not nearly the wage earner that he is, I am blessed with work that contributes. It doesn't take me from my home, but it does require my time and attention within my home. It's got its space in the predetermined allocated hours of the day. The hours over which, increasingly, I feel like I have no control.

We live where we do because it makes the most sense when we consider employment, travel, and children. It just does. And as much as I might love to read the blogs of women on parcels of land, as much as I idealize that kind of slow, that's not my life. I don't really believe it's the life He intended for me. My life is here, with the man I love and the children God gave us. 

So, how to nurture slow here in suburbia? We've long limited our children to just one thing.  They can choose whatever they want (within reason), but in addition to school and church, they can only do just one thing. That means if they play soccer, there are no scouts. If they dance, there's no horseback riding. If they want to play basketball, they have to limit it to rec league when there's a soccer lull. Just one thing.

Times 6.

Or 7.

Or 8.

They have just one thing and we have all their things together. Plus a traveling Dad. 

The arithmetic is overwhelming me. I see the good in their one things. I really do. These are children educated at home who have deep, deep ties to community. Mike and I have dear friends who are parents and teachers and coaches who have shared those one things. I am grateful for the connections I've made because of my children's one things. I am grateful for the lessons they have learned, the friends they have made, the examples they have encountered. Grateful. Grateful. Grateful.

And on the brink of burnout.

Yesterday morning, I snapped an iPhone shot of my just-bloomed daylilies, for Instagram. For some strange reason, when I went to caption it, this verse came rushing to my mind: 

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

I am certain it was this whisper of the Holy Spirit on a cool morning breeze. 

I have had no plans lately. My days of chore charts and lesson plans and meal plans all but evaporated about five years ago. I've tried to revive them now and again, to no avail. I'm fairly certain I know why I stopped. I'm also certain it was stupid. It matters not now why I stopped. What matters is that yesterday morning, I recognized that God Himself had plans. And just because it feels like nothing is up to me to decide and everything is dictated by the demands of employment and kid commitments, by golly, I need to make some plans.   

June Renew Task #1: revive the planning notebooks.

As I pondered planning, and I particularly thought about how to create more time alone to think and to pray and to write, I thought about Michele's guest post  from about a month ago. I decided to lock myself in the bathroom long enough to get some quiet and re-read it. These words struck me: 

Mothers in particular can struggle with this. It feels selfish to take that time alone with God but taking time to nourish your relationship with God isn't selfishness, it's self-care and there a very big difference. By nature we are self-focused beings and that isn't an accident. While it has been distorted by sin, it is actually intended for our good and properly focused can be a path to growing in holiness. "Love your neighbor as yourself" assumes that we will love ourselves.
Not in an egotistical way but in the way that God does. Desiring the highest and best good for us, that of union with Him and eternal life. That is self-care.

Self care. It's the cornerstone of renewal. I know that it is. But I struggle to get there. I need to pray. I need to get to the gym. I need to write. I need to be in my garden (even if it's not on three rural acres; it's where I can bloom). I need to sew. I need big chunks of time with my husband. I need conversation with my children. These are ways I care for myself. These are the places where I feel most in balance and most aware of the person God created me to be.

I've been tagging along on Heather's 30 Day Vegan journey. (As an aside, I do admit I'm hungry. Being a gluten- and corn-free vegan isn't a walk in the park, at least not my park.) Yesterday, she posed this challenge (at least it was a challenge to me):

In the midst of raising families, meeting work obligations, and taking care of lifeʼs often mundane tasks (taxes, insurance forms, etc.), we all would benefit greatly from setting aside five minutes here, ten minutes there, for healing practices and personal care.

There it was again. Self care.

Yesterday, right after the daylilies, I had a conversation with Sarah. I needed to spill how overwhelmed I'm feeling and she was the safe place. We didn't get far into the conversation before she said, "That's just not gonna work. You need to figure out how to feed yourself or you won't be of any use to anyone.There's gotta be a way." 

There it was again. Self care. 

If I have any hope of skewing the arithmetic in favor of my own wellbeing, I think it lies in the formula 

Planning + self care = physical/emotional balance+ wellbeing

I need to commit this all to prayer. Immediately after the text to Sarah, this graphic appeared in my inbox with a sweet note from Ann. Just out of the blue. Just like that. Because Ann has a knack for whispering Truth to me at just the right time. (Turns out she had a few things to say yesterday about being overwhelmed.)

Yesterday was a bad day. It just felt like a bad day. In recounting though, it's easy to see God's fingerprints all over it. Rarely is He so obvious to me.

I need to commit this season of overwhelm to prayer and then I need to listen and take action.

It's time to pull out the planning tools, time to commit to taking care of myself so that I have the best version of me to invest in my family and my friends. Honestly, I have no idea where this journey is headed.

About the picture:

Yesterday, in my sorry-for-myself-because-I-don't-live-in-the-country mood, I gathered up a load of freshly washed, handmade clothes and hung them on the soccer goal. It was (for me) an act of grumpy defiance. Our neighborhood doesn't allow clotheslines. Sometimes I feel a bit suffocated by suburban rules. I really wanted my mean neighbor to know that I'm the girl next door who makes clothes for her little girls and hangs them to dry. Because I'm slow like that. I'm a country girl at heart.

But, in the end, I'm very much a soccer mom, too.

Lord, Hear Our Prayer

The internet is a formidable force for bringing the comfort and consolation and hope of the Lord to all of us. It can be an incredibily powerful medium for community. There is an unfathomable resource for prayer here. We have on the 'net the privilege of praying for people and of being witness to the miracles brought forth when fervent, faith-filled people pray for one another.

Let's be that community of hope and faith for one another.

How about this idea? What if I pop in here every weekend, share Sunday's gospel and talk a wee bit about how we can live it and pray it in our homes? And then you tell me how we can pray for you that week? Deal?

{And please, do return and let us know how prayer is bearing fruit.} 

Gospel

Luke 9:11B-17

Jesus spoke to the crowds about the kingdom of God,
and he healed those who needed to be cured.
As the day was drawing to a close,
the Twelve approached him and said,
"Dismiss the crowd
so that they can go to the surrounding villages and farms
and find lodging and provisions;
for we are in a deserted place here."
He said to them, "Give them some food yourselves."
They replied, "Five loaves and two fish are all we have,
unless we ourselves go and buy food for all these people."
Now the men there numbered about five thousand.
Then he said to his disciples,
"Have them sit down in groups of about fifty."
They did so and made them all sit down.
Then taking the five loaves and the two fish,
and looking up to heaven,
he said the blessing over them, broke them,
and gave them to the disciples to set before the crowd.
They all ate and were satisfied.
And when the leftover fragments were picked up,
they filled twelve wicker baskets.

~ ~ ~

Think

Put your soul every morning in a posture of humility, tranquility, and sweetness, and notice from time to time through the day if it has become entangled in affection for anything; and if it be not quiet, diengaged and tranquil, set it at rest." ~St Francis de Sales

Pray

Dear Lord, give me the voice of Mary. May I speak all things in sweetness and love.

Act

What was the last thing you said to someone? Examine the words, the tone, and the gestures you used. Would anyone describe them as gentle? If not, aim for improvement.

From Small Steps for Catholic Moms, set to be published again in the fall by Ave Maria Press.

{This Moment}

This boy received another college acceptance letter this week.

And the reality of how much these two will miss each other keeps crowding my feelings of utter joy for him. Raising children is bittersweet, no?

Joining Amanda to stop and notice the moments.