2009 September | chatting at the sky

a tuesday visit

September 15, 2009

bird

Sitting quietly in the sunroom, girls in school, youngest boy still asleep, something large and moving caught my eye. I moved to the window and saw this massive hawk-bird staring at me. We knew there were a few of these hanging around the cul-de-sac, but I’ve never seen one this close. He hung out there for a few minutes, until my zoom lens clicked against the window pane and he spread his wings and flew quickly away. A short visit, but one I was oddly thankful for: Creation swooping down to say hello.

What is your gift today? Simply link to the permalink of your post and share it here. Picture16-1

Filed Under Tuesdays Unwrapped 22 Comments

the new normal

September 14, 2009

change

In the midst of change, it seems like the new things will never feel normal. Until one day, you barely remember what life was like before. The day we brought the twins home from the hospital there wasn’t a grown up in sight. Except us, of course. Would it ever feel normal to be the mom?

Now here we are, five years later, with three weeks of kindergarten behind us.

The days of lazy weekday mornings and mid-day picnics on the lawn have already become fuzzy remember-whens. I’m desperate to know the new details, but I’m learning that asking how their day went generally gets me nowhere. Instead, I have to simply be, exist alongside, and listen. In their midst, little bits spill out and take shape and I catch myself trying to fit them together to make a complete day-story.

I can never quite fill in all the gaps, so instead I trust anew in the One who is writing their part in a bigger story. I’m also learning to stand up in the empty room of this new normal and find my place in it. Any words from you who have already painted the walls and picked out the furniture would be well-received here.

Filed Under a mother 35 Comments

a note to a dear friend

September 10, 2009

When I saw the girl writing your name on the chalkboard at the Target Starbucks, my heart began to dance and sing. I knew it wouldn’t be long. As much as I tried to wait until the temperature dropped to at least below 80 degrees, I cannot wait any longer.

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Hello, my love. Hello my cinnamon friend, my autumn companion, my cup of frothy October. Your presence is a promise of fall, your steam whispers sweaters, football and bonfires. You are 16 ounces of liquid pie. And even though you are small, you bring so much joy and happiness to all who meet you.

I am sorry I tried to replace you with the International Delight impostor. True, he is more financially savvy than you. And he is willing to live in the midst of harsh conditions on the door of my fridge: the constant opening and closing; the blinking lights; the leftovers inches away. Although he is always available to me, standing tall between the ketchup and the Italian dressing…he is not you.

I love you, Pumpkin Spice Latte. I am so glad you are back.

Emily

*An appropriate re-post from September 2008 because, you know, it is that time of year. Hallelujah and Amen.

Filed Under a little bit crazy 61 Comments

unwrapping tuesday

September 7, 2009

the path

Behind the leaf is a blurry path that leads home. I walk that path everyday to take my girls to school. It is a new part of our daily routine that I didn’t expect to need. On the first day of school, I was surprised by it.

On the way, there was hand-holding, high-pitched chatter, hairband fixing and backpack checking. Anticipation of the day was filled with questions about teachers and classmates and what to wear, as well as secret mama fears of anxious girls or uncontrollable tears.

My worries were needless, as Courage and Brave decided to show up and embrace my girls for the morning. I saw them to their classrooms, chatted with their teachers and offered one last hug. Unfortunately, I lost my cool in the library upon seeing fellow mamas with their respectably misty eyes behind their paper coffee cups. My mist turned into a full-on shower as visions of my girls as babies crept up without my permission.

After making a sufficient fool of myself, I headed back outside to walk home, and it was as if this path rose up to greet me. I walked it slowly and alone, drinking in the quiet, and thankful for the gentle transition from preschool to grade school.

That was Tuesday, two weeks ago. And it made me think of my fellow Unwrappers.

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Tuesdays are set aside around here to take time to share a moment that may have otherwise disappeared under the pile of daily tasks. Instead, we stop, notice and we are thankful.

I took a break in August from hosting the linky. I have sincerely missed it. I’m glad to know a few of you have missed it as well. In fact, Sharone from Zizzivivizz wrote a post about it called What A Difference a (Tues)day makes:

I visit the blogs of the other Unwrappers and together we help each other to see the mundane and ordinary in new and fruitful ways…On Tuesdays, I’ve been training myself to see the pure and lovely and praiseworthy things, even when they come in ostensibly unappealing packages. I can see how the training is starting to take root–and I like it.

I like it, too. And I love how she calls it a training. I have to practice an attitude of thankful noticing. Otherwise, I sink right back into the swirling chaos. I am thankful for the reminder to slow down and celebrate the small things, like simple, quiet paths that lead to new beginnings. If you have a Tuesday moment, simply include the permalink to your post in the linky below. So happy to be back.

Filed Under Tuesdays Unwrapped 20 Comments

more to the hiding

September 4, 2009

There is more to yesterday’s story, of course. Isn’t there always more to the story? I wanted to share at least that much with you because I am taking steps to letting people in on my processing. If you read that post, you have now read nearly the entire introduction to the book I’m working on. That is a hefty statement to make.

Since The Man is a youth pastor, I spend a lot of time around teenagers. Good girl teenagers. Just like me when I was their age. And kind of just like me now. So this isn’t just my story. It is the story of so many good girls living, working and hiding while longing for authenticity and rest. For the tired teenage good girl, living like Jesus is real is not so easy. First she has to recognize those do-good masks she wears. Then she has to be convinced that it’s safe to take them off.

Secretly? I think everyone is a good girl in hiding. For the girls who have it all together and the girls who are falling apart, there is a perfect, invisible good girl living in our head, standing in the corner with her perfect self, either shaming or congratulating performance. She watches our every move, recording, judging, and manipulating. She can never be pleased. She always requires more from us.

And it’s time to shut her up. There is a new way to live.

What about you? I know I’m not the only one who has tried to be a good girl with varying degrees of success. I know I’m not the only crazy person with a good girl judge in my head, hiding behind masks of performance and self-dependence. Do you have a good girl story?

Filed Under Good Girls 36 Comments

nows and laters

September 2, 2009

on hope

Hope used to mean a happy future. Or healthy kids. Or cross-my-fingers wishes. When I was a girl, hope was Grandma’s JC Penny’s catalog before Christmas with carefully circled themed bedspreads and Barbie clothes. It was a lost calico cat on a hot summer day that I knew if it would just come home again, all would be right with the world.

Hope was a wall-hook on which I hung imaginary wedding veils and baby blankets, like wishful thinking for my future. Never for my now…

To finish reading this post, please visit (in)courage.

Filed Under (in)courage 7 Comments

the book proposal

September 1, 2009

Hey, remember how I told you I finished a book proposal? And then remember how I didn’t tell you anything else about it? Yes, well that would be because I don’t like talking about things that are in process. I like to talk about things after the fact, with the benefit of perspective and time and maybe even closure. It’s the same reason why I haven’t told you much about the girls going to Kindergarten yet. I’m still processing, and I don’t like to process in front of people. (Can anyone say controlling?) So this book thing? Well, I am right smack dab in the middle of it.

Just to be clear, I do not have a book deal. And I have not written an entire book. I have finished a book proposal, which is basically a collection of facts, figures, passion and three sample chapters of the actual book I plan to write. It is like a 56-page-long marriage proposal, one that begs an answer to the question: Will you publish me? A publisher has yet to answer that question. There has been some interest, which is infinitely encouraging, as there is a secret part of me that wondered if I would be laughed at.

SHOES

But telling you the details is like taking the risk all over again. So every time I sit with the intention of telling you more about the book idea itself, I end up on Facebook or reading Amber or trying to find Chuck Season 2 on Amazon or looking at my house on Google Earth.

The energy meant to form words and thoughts are hidden down deep and come out in crazy ways instead, like in hot tears or short, snappy parenting or manic coupon cutting. And the words remain a swirling soup, flickering like a film-strip but not allowed to take hold.

I break my own rules about focus and passion.

I can’t tell you how many times over the past few months I have wished my passion was cooking. Oh, to want to write about cooking! What joy! Or house-y stuff. Everyone loves a good house blog, right? Colors and fabric and beautiful homes. Or crafts. Or sewing. Or scrapbooking. Or makeup. Those things don’t tend to be so…personal.

So I am taking steps this week to share with you more about this book idea. I’m excited about it, and I don’t want to do this alone.

Filed Under a girl, a little bit crazy, a writer 37 Comments