Tag Archives: winter

Friendship Friday ~ Facebook

Last fall found me wrestling the Facebook conundrum, once again. It remained on my mind throughout the season, as I made the adjustment from working full time to being back home.

On the one hand, I loved being able to connect quickly and instantly with so many past and present friends and acquaintances. I loved being able to pop into their worlds at will to see the latest news. I loved the number of hits and shares that my blog posts received when I cast them out into Facebook land.

On the other hand, I hated the quick and instant connection with so many past and present friends and acquaintances. I hated being able to pop into their worlds at will to see the latest news. I still loved the affirmation and hits and shares and likes, though.

I sat in ambivalence for several months, vacillating from focusing on the positives to considering deleting the account, often within minutes of each other, usually when in a place of high social media stress and emotion.

My grounding felt shallow and weak as I struggled with identity issues, while carrying on with daily tasks. Facebook became an escape from what was best, even though there was some good. My default was scrolling and peering through everyone’s cyber-windows and feeling all of the feelings for all of the people while absorbing all of the issues.

Something had to change.

I decided to be intentional about whatever choice I made, and in the end chose to disable my personal account and keep the blog page open. It offered a middle ground and opportunity to reset my personal self while still engaging my writing self.

At the end of two weeks I feel more space in my soul and less stress for all of the things beyond my control. I feel more real-life connection. I feel less awareness of the theoretical and more grounding in the practical.

There are things that I miss.

I miss the instant connection. I miss the reminders of where I was 3, 5, 7, 9 years ago. I miss the cute pictures. I miss the events and invitations (sometimes) and tagging. I miss knowing when a weather apocalypse could be coming (actually, no I don’t). I miss my groups. I miss being in the loop about the things that could actually matter.

To be honest, I have received a screen shot or two from an adult child who knows I would appreciate what pops up in her feed or might need a heads-up regarding an impending school delay or possible snow day. My husband sometimes shares things with me from his feed. I am not guaranteed to see things, though.

What about you, Dear Readers? How do you engage social media and all that goes with it? What am I missing while on my hiatus? I would love to hear your perspective! Thank you for stopping by my cyber-space today, however you managed to find me.

Words of Years Gone By

I sit at the extreme end of the day on December 29, 2017, not wanting it to end but knowing it must. This is how I am aware of growth. There is too much to do, to learn, to experience, and I do not want to miss any of it.

I have spent much of the day thinking of the words of years gone by. I spent time with my youngest sis pondering and processing over coffee. She knows my choice but has promised to keep it to herself until January 1. So has my luvvvvah, who also knows. These two met almost 30 years ago and have been constants in my life ever since.

Words of years gone by.

I am not sure when I began keeping track of them. The blog tells me that the first was was heal. That was in 2012. Subsequent years were hope, embrace, return, restore, and persist.

Old journals may reveal otherwise, but there is this sense I have that for many years I felt as if I were doing the same year over and over again. I longed for and cried out for growth that just would not come.

I am grateful for growth.

I am incredibly ambivalent about recognizing growth.

So at this day’s end, I sit in the tension. I bask in the joy of witnessing my drummer son creating music and my husband creating in the kitchen. I sit in a space of curiosity and openness to what is coming in 2018 while not wanting to miss a moment of what is left in 2017.

The last of the tucking of children into bed has finally happened and the remaining bit of hangout time with my man is left, so I will sign off for now.

What about you, Dear Reader? What are you anticipating in the new year? I look forward to hearing your word or intention or hope or dream and to sharing mine with you very soon.

Staying Connected

As 2017 winds down and I ponder changes on the horizon, one of the biggest is finding and working out a balance between virtual and real life connection. On the one hand, the blog’s link to social media offers a broad base of connection with readers. It gives opportunity for liking and sharing. On the other, it provides too many windows for me to look through, inviting much distraction.

Many times I have considered deactivating my personal Facebook account but then hesitated due to the prospect of losing that connection with readers. There is some tidying I plan to do in the new year, but I am not sure exactly how it will look. I am fairly confident it will involve rearranging social media.

That said, if you wish to stay in the blog loop and have not done so already, please consider signing up to receive email notifications of new posts. Should I do some deleting and shifting and moving, I would love to have you along for the ride. I at least want to have given you fair warning.

This April will mark five years since the beginning. My blog, like other parts of my story, is evolving and finding its place in the world. I am looking at where it has been and where it is to see where it might be going.

I feel grateful for those of you who already faithfully read and encourage me to keep writing. I am grateful to those of you who like and follow the Facebook Page. From the beginning, I have wanted this to be a place where people choose to come and read and be met right where they are.

I am thankful for all of you who have done just that.

So as you read and engage and ponder your own changes coming into the new year, consider how you may want to stay connected, and know that I value each of you and what you bring to my cyber, and real, life.

Blessings, Friends!

Writing Spaces

It has been quiet in my writing spaces, these days. I have felt unmotivated and uninspired, and rather than just sitting with myself there, letting it be, I tend to judge it. It is not a good place.

Two weekends ago I was away with a friend. I read a lot of books and did a lot of art journaling. I wrote a little bit. I walked in the woods and by the water.

One weekend ago I was sick. I missed the entire weekend due to body aches and fever. It was all I could do to toss and turn in bed. Steve woke me at regular intervals to help me hydrate and visit the bathroom. It was miserable. There were nightmares.

Recovery is slow and takes time. I am still not at full capacity, though I am getting there. I just feel flat lined. Sometimes we can only keep taking steps. That is where I am. Stepping. One foot in front of the other.

It is a familiar space.

It is hard to be in this space.

But I am there and will continue to move through it.

Jesus met me this week in these words.

Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us. Psalm 90:15, ESV

I am holding onto them, trusting, hoping, looking forward to all of the days of gladness.

Because there will be many.

Family Chores ~ Guest Post

Chores are supposed to clean up things or do things. But when you are, like, six years old, they are plain torture. I don’t remember how old I was, but when I was little when I had to use a spray bottle to clean things, I would spray whatever I needed to spray and I wouldn’t rub it into the surface, I would just leave it there. People who went to the area wouldn’t notice because it would already be dried. That’s how I used to do chores because I was so mad I had to do that chore. But now that I’m older, and Mom  and Dad got smarter, I have to do a good job, because Mom or Dad will check the area I did the chore in, so if I did the chore wrong, they could correct me.

The chores my brothers and sisters have to do at our house : if they are supposed to do a chore because Mom and Dad decide xd : are the downstairs and upstairs bathrooms, the laundry, kitchen helper, and unloading and loading the dishwasher. The worst chore is bathrooms. I am a total germ-a-phobic : not TOO much, really. Just a little bit : so wiping the crusty poop off the toilet seat is SO gross!!! And bathrooms take forever. You also have to clean the sink, too.

The best chore is laundry because it is so easy now that I know how to do it. I don’t really like kitchen helper that much but I don’t hate it. Last but not least is dishwasher. Dishwasher is best to get when an older sibling is here. They sometimes : not all the time, don’t expect it.: do it for you. But some older siblings are lazy buns and only do it if the dishwasher is full and they NEED to wash something in the dishwasher.

Chores bite, and they are really annoying. “If you don’t do your chore, you will get a consequence. HARDY HAR HAR!” says a very annoying parent. See what I mean? Parents are always pulling the excuse, “If you’re not doing the chore, who is?”  Parents just want to get you to do chores so they can lob around eating chocolate covered strawberries watching American House-Wife or Last Man Standing. : I don’t know what parents watch these days but as you can see, I kinda have an idea.
I think a good chore system would be kids do the chores three days a week. Maybe four….. Or maybe parents and kids could go back and forth seeing who gets the extra chore day. It really bites that I have to do chores on the weekend AND the week days. I mean, why do parents make kids do that?! Chores on the weekend are hallway, the easiest, dining room, medium long, kitchen, the longest, living room, pretty long if I do say so myself.

Thanks for reading this!😄 – Anonymous

This is the Storm

Twenty-one years ago, the first week of March, I was hugely pregnant with child number two, due in ten days. Big sister was a toddler of 17 months.

Steve and I hung out Wednesday night, as usual. Nothing about our world was different. There were no expectations. I hadn’t gotten to the point in the pregnancy where I was ready to birth out a baby. Child one arrived three days early. In my mind there was still over a week to go.

We went to bed, alarm set to wake us in the morning for another day of work.

Thursday I woke and found Steve already downstairs. He was facing the sliding glass door which opened to the tiny back deck off of the kitchen. The deck was covered in many, many inches of snow.

Julie, look at this!

I think my water just broke.

That’s how it went down. I think my water just broke. Why else would I be peeing in the living room on the carpet? Excitement?!

It’s a good thing that we were planning a home birth. We just had to figure a way to get the midwife from Dayton.

tbt big snow

It’s a good thing I have slow and steady, steady and slow labors. It would be a full day before that little, wrinkly, leathery old man would make his way reluctantly into the world.

But this is the storm.

It’s a little different today. Instead of waking to the ground covered with snow, I woke to thick rain hitting the windows. Then ice pellets changing over to heavy wet flakes and back to pellets.

It’s different because back in 1994 there wasn’t access to the technology that we have today, especially in our little townhouse-apartment. No TV, internet, nothing smart, not even a newspaper. Only talk radio that wasn’t listened to all that often. Certainly no anticipation of a weather event. No chatter and buzz.

School is closed today. Entirely.

That Thursday, March 3, 1994, was the first time that Good Shepherd School closed its doors for a snow day. By Friday the sun was shining and roads were clear. That part isn’t looking as promising this year, but by the weekend, I’m guessing, clear.

So we hunker down for another snow day; one of our last, I secretly hope. I try to relax and relieve the pressure I feel building inside and remind myself that sufficient for each day is it’s evil. And this isn’t evil.

My son turned 21 on Tuesday. It feels like yesterday that I was standing in the middle of a tiny living room, looking out at the tiny back deck covered in snow, excitement and fear mounting, wondering how the day would end.

It ended with me cradling a tiny person in my arms, both of us tucked into bed for our first night together.

In the snow. In March.

I wonder what this snow day in March will bring?

Breakfast Tray

Thursday dawned a surprise snow day

And with it came a breakfast tray

And littles who promised it wasn’t a bribe

From the second half of my native tribe

For extra media or episodes

But just because they loved me so

And the food prepared was rather good

It tasted just as breakfast should

And this mom felt lots of love

For her precious treasures from above.

Shalom.