grace

When I headed up to the counter the other week to check out and pay for the day’s treasures, the gentleman putting together my items was rolling around in his hands the bell that caught my eye. It was my favorite find of the morning. “You know what gives it that unique ring? The pieces that broke off.” I hadn’t even noticed the broken parts when I’d picked it up for a shake earlier. I was too taken with the sound to think on what made it so. 

the bell's company on the porch today—a glassybaby trio:                                     grace, grateful red, and muse

I remember a couple years ago when I was sharing with the kids on our walk home how a morning of embarrassing, whoopsie moments culminated with my dress boot heel getting caught in the shopping cart as I grabbed my two grocery bags for loading into the car. Straight down I went onto the pavement with hands tight in the brown bag handles. There was no way to hide the landing, no way to gracefully recover. It was so bad that some  turned the other way—wanting to pretend they hadn’t seen vs. coming over to assist. The bruised part of my pride thanked them for such thoughtfulness as I struggled to free my foot and get upright. 

As I regaled the kids with the no good very bad moment, they asked if it hurt, if I was embarrassed when it happened. “Of course! But what could I do?” And without missing a beat, my girl took a page from her Pete the Cat reads and said, “You just keep singing your song!”

This month's 'color club' treasure—muse—from glassybaby founder, lee rhodes.
"...their real use is to symbolize and generate hope. their warm light flickers, like we do in everyday life. they are humble in spirit, but not in beauty..." —mercos rhodes, lee's son.

Pride. Heart. Spirit. Limb. Faith. Promise. Habit. Practice. 

Whatever it is that breaks, whatever it is that either heals or becomes a better version of, whatever gets caught in the living as it’s becoming… let it ring, let it sing! It might clang against for a bit or join in chorus, but the sound will be authentically, beautifully, resoundingly the you that is a treasure of a find.

soar

The geese were in some serious need of direction yesterday morning. All of ‘em were honking, none of them seemed to know the best route for going, and they kept circling around the pond hoping that someone would take the lead already.

On the way home from the market yesterday afternoon, I must have scooted over into the left lane a bit too closely for the truck barreling down behind me. My suspicion was confirmed when he pulled up alongside me, flipped the bird, and then pulled up ahead to ride the line between the two lanes lest I thought I should be in the lead. Down the Boulevard we drove until we both reached the light and he could again confirm his sentiments for all in line behind us to see, as well as my two kids in tow. I smiled, waved, and hoped that whatever aggression he was taking out on me would ease the next encounter on his list. 

With all that’s flying about these days—from birds to middle fingers—I hope you’re steady on the path that’s before you, that you’re head up with a heart full, that you can find meaningful ways to speak the words you wish for others to hear, that you can find your formation, that you can gracefully take a lead or share the lane depending on the course ahead. 

(un)subscribing

I was holding down the corner of the coffee bar area with my Miss when in walked another Mom and daughter duo. “Woooowwww…!” the girl said as she took in the landscape of offerings. It looked like her first time there judging by her inventorying of the space. Of course, I maybe recognized the feeling from when I first discovered this gem on Main. It’s since become a staple, a treat of spot for catch up time with the kids, or the perfect place for coffee or lunch with a good friend.

To see one’s first sight of the surroundings within made my heart happy, made me remember the first time my girl spied all the goods in the case, and has left me thinking since on when we lose or how we hold fast to the taken with feeling of people, places, experiences, moments. 

My usual walking partner needed to reschedule one morning last week so I instead warmed up with one more cup of coffee before bundling up for a walk. I opened the door—head down—getting my gear on, and when I looked up I was smacked with total fog beauty. It was an audible taking in of the neighborhood blanketed in the early morning. How can something so dense and seemingly heavy be so lovely? I was giddy with the chance to start my day like this… just me and the quiet cocoon of earth’s winter morning hibernation.

One of the best somethings I’ve added to this new year is the click of ‘unsubscribe’ from the volume of email that comes through my various accounts. Once-upon-a-time places, outlets, and interests that no longer fit with what I’m seeking. I’m finding that’s limited not only to an email inbox, but to a greater net of life when we take into account the cast and hopeful catch.

I shelve the ‘what if’s, the ‘maybe’s, the ‘might’s, and instead focus on the core of what I wish to greet—people who genuinely wish to share in an exchange, things and places that spark, moments that are my now. 

The week before last I headed out for a long leg stretch despite the bitter cold. All the weather predictions were pointing me to treadmill-ville for the foreseeable, so I needed the fix of fresh air before hunkering down for the weekend with the family. As I walked I thought about my love for this time of year.

Even in its overcast chill, it’s a haven of renewal that fuels me. I looked at many of the trimmed back branches and thought, “If only it were that easy…” If only we could cut off the pieces that no longer sustain. If only we could trim back whatever’s overgrown. If only we could have a clean-cut fresh start on whatever grew sour or wayward.

And I think we can.

By unsubscribing. 
By inventorying. 
By focusing on self’s presence in the world and how we extend any glimmer of good, of hope, of kindness to another.
By smiling, hearing, showing up, and simply ‘being with’ more.
By tending to our own gardens so our fruits might feed another come next season.

One of Miss's ‘chores’ last week was being our neighbor’s helper. When she came in from tucking newspapers on the side porch that foggy morning she was all smiles. “Mom! I got to walk in the clouds!”

And there it was… that first, that feeling, that catch in her breath something.

taking the time

A couple of my friends refuse to use microwaves. They’ve never lectured their stance, but one politely asked that I use a kettle for a quick cuppa when she popped over several months ago. After that one time I thought I’d see just how many things could wait a little longer, could be thought of ahead of time, could be given the needed portion of my day to prepare before sipping or chowing down. 

Coffee needs a warm up? Take it to the stovetop. Loaded baked potatoes for dinner? Better get cracking on the scrubbing and oiling and preheating to eat on time. The time-taking has turned some hub of our home moments into dedicated readying versus a hurry up and doing. The thinking ahead has turned the focus to the experience of preparing versus the sometimes rushed pace of the eating. 

“Trust in the slow work of…”

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The skies today are grey, there are flakes falling in snowglobe perfection, and I am in my happy space of quiet while sweet potatoes simmer on the range. I’m hungry, the coffee’s dwindling, but I’m biding the cook time knowing that flavors are just like my Dad’s gin rummy hand—they deserve the time to meld.

January’s not everyone’s favorite. It’s not my favorite. But I appreciate the Mama Bear (heated) cave of hibernation that the cold brings. As a holiday season chaser, I crave this time to recharge, tuck in, and give myself a window to think on what I want the year to bring, what I hope to see bloom come spring. I love living where all seasons can be experienced (sometimes in a single day). 

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Another friend talked last year about how her January ‘resolution’ was to focus on a word throughout her months ahead. What could be her theme or her something to circle back to as she encountered people or situations that filled up, tempted to drain, or complemented her spirit? I loved the idea. I appreciated the logevity of its potential. I could see that sort of effort being something that goes the distance beyond eating or exercise habits that ebb and flow. I walked and read and reflected and soon settled on a word that kept finding me. 

“your ideas mature gradually—let them grow…”

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Not every lunch hour can allot for the slow prep of a meal. A morning with a harried pace from an oversleep can zap exchanges with loved ones or wreck the peace of solitude craved. But recognition of what went well and what maybe could go better is what matters. The ability to not fight what was and instead focus on what can be is where the living takes place, where the humor is found, where the outlook is bright. 

“…as though you could be today what time will make of you tomorrow.”

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My hope for this year is one of mindful living. My wish is to be in the now for today’s stepping stone toward tomorrow. In the words of Mother Teresa, 

“Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not come. We have only today. Let us begin.”

Mindful of the words we use. Mindful of the food we prep. Mindful of the breaths we so fortunately get to take.
Mindful of the distractions that keep us from connecting. Mindful of the emotions fueling efforts, hurts, or joys. Mindful of the sips and bites we crave and need. Mindful of a good sweat or a cry that renews and releases.
Mindful of a friend's infectious laughter. Mindful of the ask of a child. Mindful of the comforting presence of a loved one near.
Mindful of the clouds conspiring with the sun.
Mindful of the moonlight beaming down.
Mindful of the space we call home. Mindful of the road on which we travel. Mindful of how our living reflects the gift of simply being.
 

quote excerpts from:
Patient Trust
by Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, SJ

these three things

My greatest tangible gifts this year were a candle, a bell, and a mug. 

I know your light, let it shine… 
I know your song, let it ring… 
I know your heart, let it see...

Tokens that match the goodness of the givers. Presents that represent our shared walks and witnessing of chapters weathered and discovered in each other.

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The boy child was lamenting the Hallmark movie-thon that was still happening this morning. “But Christmas is ooover!!!” he moaned with hopes that his sister would change the channel. 

“It just started,” I hollered from the other room. “The Wise Men haven’t even reached Jesus yet.” 

Christmastide—the 12 Days of Christmas that started on the 25th and continue through Twelfth Night on the 5th—is yet another journey of anticipation and love, of hope and of seeing, of believing and receiving in the giving. 

“The journey is the point. The walking is the thing.”

— Barbara Brown Taylor, An Altar in the World

A lover of Advent and the anticipation of what’s coming—especially after becoming a mother—I, too, likely looked at all of the debris and settled into a heap of “Now what?” after the big day. I, too, maybe set sights on expectations and got caught up in the wants amidst the needs. So this year I’m looking to what’s around the bend, over the next hillside, and in stops along they way. I’m now focused on the creche of self to hold the gifts already present and those to come. 

                                                 Once in Royal David's City

I hope the riches of this continued season settle upon you too. 

Share your song, 
be the light, 
shine the love. 
             ..and believe.