Tag Archives: rest

Lump Day

It is mid-week. Hump Day. In navigating my new normal there is still much I have to learn about pacing myself and having realistic expectations for what I can accomplish and what constitutes enough. Our themes follow us no matter where we go. Mine are here in my quiet house with me this morning.

It was a kind gift to wake with my alarm and read my Bible before starting the day. That led to a timely shower and the surprise of breakfast made for me instead of the reverse. Fed, clean, and clothed, I was able to take on the rest of the kitchen routine and pack lunches without being thrown by the unexpected surprises that usually occur between 7:00-7:20am.

Drop-off was smooth-sailing, and the dog-walk uneventful. The brilliant morning sunshine was a welcome lift to my sagging spirits. I recognized the kindness of a canceled plan which opened space for me to tackle an overdue task that has been hanging over my head. It moved to the top of today’s list.

Finishing my evolving morning ritual, I gathered supplies to the table to begin working on an art journaling project. It was fun to plan out and gather the words and images to use. I opened a new package of glue sticks and dug some scissors out of the drawer. Immediately I realized the blades were sticky and squeaky, but I decided to make do rather than extract myself from the table to my bedroom for the good scissors.

The ambient sound of scrapbooking!

A voice from the living-room couch piped up after I had been working for awhile. My son was seizing a few moments of his morning off to read a book he had received for his birthday. The silence of his reading was punctuated by the sounds of my tearing and cutting and gluing.

I even tried not to cut too loudly with these awful scissors!

I laughed. We both have sensitivity to certain sounds and pitches and noises. This caused more laughter and an invitation from him to take a break and watch an episode together in the living room. I accepted and hunkered down on the loveseat. Dewey trotted over and jumped right up, settling onto me for a nap.

Twenty minutes later, I looked at us and laughed, christening the day Lump Day, as we were lumping on couches and not accomplishing much. Then it was time to get moving. He has to work. I have to clean up the art journal mess and sort the rest of my time before picking up kids from school.

OR

I might just keep lumping.

Shhh! Don’t tell.

The original post was edited to include this video shared with me by my baby sis who now mothers her babies every day and knows about songs like this!

Pour Coffee and Ponder

I need to take my own advice. So good about helping everyone else to think and process, I often leave myself behind.

This morning I received a text that turned into a phonecall that ended with laughter and greater curiosity. It caused me to pull out some old writing, sketching, and dream journaling I had done and read and laugh and think, huh.

It is a gift to have those in your life who were there with you, wherever there was, and who are willing to go back there with you when needs be. To be able to share in safety without having to explain or over-explain is golden.

This was one of my people who just gets it.

As I sent a picture of a dream sketch I had made with this person in it and received comments back, the conversation ended with me texting, Enough about me and my dreams. Pour coffee and ponder yours.

That is what I needed, as well, reminding me that I often speak to others what I need for myself. So that is where this post finds me, pondering dreams and other parts of me, and writing with my poured coffee.

The gift of the slow Saturday morning gets eclipsed by all of the shoulds running through my head. Instead of resting in gratefulness for the space, I rush around trying to fill it. Sometimes just sitting in my PJs on an unmade bed with a laptop open at 9:50 on a Saturday morning is an act of defiance to all that threatens to bind me.

So that is where I am. Pondering with my poured coffee. Grateful for a partner engaging the kids and their chores so I can be on the other side of a closed door, I write.

Woman

Woman,
You’re astounding.
You are humble.
You are wise.

Your heart has been trustworthy.
There is kindness in your eyes.

Woman,
You have studied
to give counsel
and to bless.

Your words have guided many
safely through their painful mess.

Woman,
You’ve been steadfast
to speak truth and
to be kind.

You’ve often given freely
of your treasure and your time.

Woman,
You are weary.
You’ve served others.
You have blessed.

You’ve come upon a season
where your own heart feels pressed.

Woman,
Please be watered.
Please be cared for.
Please take time

To let your loved ones serve you
when your heart does not feel fine.

Woman,
You are precious.
You have flourished.
You’ve borne fruit.

It’s time to step aside to breathe
and rest upon your route.

~inspired by Proverbs 11 and the wise women who have inspired me~

Status Update

I’m taking some time off of Facebook.

My need to even post this shows how caught up and bound I feel, because in the long run, who really cares?

But you might care if you notice we are no longer friends or if your page that I once liked has gone down a like because I am not there to like it right now.

Please know that I still like you.

All I know is that I am in a difficult season and the constant feed of information and quasi-relational contact and alarmist news and links and requests have caused me to reach my social media tipping point.

I will continue to write here for those who care to read while bidding adieu to my #1 referrer. Facebook has been good to me that way. Numbers. You have been good to me, too, Readers.

It is for you faithful readers that I offer this vignette from my life.

I am in the car with my three not-so-little girls on the way home from the dollar movie. Boxtrolls.

Me ~ Later today I will be dropping you off at Grandma and Grandpa’s for about an hour. I have an appointment.

Roo ~ Like with a therapist?

Me ~ (shocked and surprised but playing it cool) Yes. You are exactly right. With a therapist.

Roo~ Yeah. So you’ll probably talk about stress and stuff?

Me~ (still caught off guard by how this conversation is playing out) You’ve got it! That’s what I will be doing.

So there you have it. When my kids grow up and people ask how their mom did it with eight kids, I don’t have to worry about them sugar-coating anything.

Lots of hard work. Many meltdowns. And therapy.

Feel free to use this contact form should you need to be in touch. Hugs!

Outside is Calling

It brings a hopeful feeling after a long, cold winter, cooped up inside with lots of snow surrounding everything, to venture outside.

Last night, my luvvvah and I took our first evening walk of the season, thanks to my mother’s willingness to sit with the kids after they were in bed. We return to a chapter of life where we can’t just up and go, trusting that there will be an older sibling around to hold down the fort.

The littles are now middles with loud opinions and many needs, and the youngest of the oldest, who is the oldest in the house right now, often has a life. Once everyone is in bed, there isn’t a guarantee that they will stay, and it’s best to have an adult present who can be the boss of them, should they need one.

Non-adult-siblings aren’t the best in the role of official boss of everyone else.

When the adults are home, it’s a different story, but then we want to spend time here with them. Things always change. Isn’t that the constant?

So yesterday’s outside for me was a walk. For the kids it was the hauling out of scooters and bikes and the playing on the porch.

Today, it was being invited by my love to spend half-an-hour in the yard together puttering around, picking up, and lopping off bits dead plant remains to reveal the green shoots underneath. It was nothing strenuous and certainly blustery, but it was earthy and grounding at a time when I desperately need that.

new growth

I need to discover the green under all of the dead brown; to snap off stalks and crunch dry leaves and grab handfuls of dirt, just because. I need time in the brisk sunshine.

And to stop. I need that, too. It’s hard to stop in the midst. To rest.

The hibiscus is in the shower, drip drying after a soak. A damp, loamy smell greets me each time I walk into my bathroom. I know it’s not time to put the plant outside. Soon, though.

Through my bedroom window I see little girls galloping down the sidewalk towards home. They have been up the street playing in a friend’s yard. I have seized the moment to rest and write.

Spring is coming. I am ready. Outside is calling. I am listening.

Stringwa’s Sabbath

Even a stringwa needs space to Sabbath, and this one was found in her quiet place.

It’s a gentle reminder that sometimes there is sweetness in the midst of the Sunday struggles.

You can learn a lot from Stringwa. Or maybe Stringwa is learning a lot from Roo who just might be learning a lot herself from the big people in her life.

Sabbath shalom. Seizing the sweetness.

Rest Awhile

The apostles returned to Jesus and told him all that they had done and taught. And he said to them,
Come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest awhile.
For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat.
Mark 6:30, 31

I know the feeling of many coming and going with no leisure even to eat.

I was given that leisure and space this weekend with the offer of respite at my friend Angela’s house. From Friday to Saturday evening there was space and quiet and time to think and read and write. And watch a bluray movie on her massive TV.

I slept. I read an entire book. All the way through. I wrote. I rested. I listed. I sat by the fire. I listened to music.

It was a gift.

The disciples ended up being followed and recognized in their desolate place, leaving them with 5,000 hungry people to feed. Jesus worked the miracle of the five loaves and two fishes and then put them in the boat.

Soon I will get back into my boat and be launched out onto the water of a new week.

In that launching I will try to hold onto grace and peace and gratefulness for the time I was able to rest awhile.