On the Path

I remember driving home to my old house--the first house I lived in when I moved to Des Moines a few years back. It was near the bike trail on a beautiful owl-filled oak-lined street. The houses were well kept, the neighbors were friendly, deer and fox would often be milling about. And yet despite the beauty something in my knew it was not where I was supposed to be, as every time I would feel blanketed by the sense: is this my life? Is this what I am going to be doing for the next 50 years--driving this road? At the time I didn't know what that meant. Here I am on this quaint street yet I felt a cloud of unease. I chalked it up to not wanting to feel stuck (I had traveled a lot and never lived anywhere for long), or not being ready to join the ranks of that kind of adulthood. Looking back now I realize that feeling was my guiding spirit telling me it wasn't the right path, that my life was due for a shake up. And so it did.

Sometimes that feeling of unease is the result of delving into the unknown--challenging yourself to follow your dreams without knowing the outcome. But it doesn't just come from facing fears, it comes from an intuitive spirit that knows the course we need to take. It means not that we are restless, but that we are due for a change, that this path isn't meant for us and we need to be open and fearlessly walk through those future doorways when they come. It is saying be ready. 2 years ago I met the love of my life. Just over a year ago we moved to this home on 2 acres on the edge of the city--a distance I never imagined I would choose as I never wanted to be near the suburbs. And now driving home on this windy, tree hemmed road with pockets of deer and raccoons and groundhogs, I finally know what it feels like to be home. No longer questioning--is this my life? The only thing I feel is awe and gratitude. This is where I am supposed to be.

About a Boy

My son Fisher (7 years of age) is my big dreamer. On Monday after school he headed straight to the garage and with hammer, nails, and wood scraps, began building a table. He asked me if he could use the big slab of plywood for the top as he wanted to make a big table and sell it for a thousand dollars (he's saving up to buy a car and a home for his future wife). This is the kid who had lemonade stands all summer to earn money--and no wonder--most people stopped to just give him all their change because, as they said, he was just so cute. I explained he needed to start small and work his way up to fine construction, reminded him of those lemonade stands and told him next year he can have a produce stand and sell our eggs and pumpkins and the like. Trying to tell a kid that things take time is like trying to pocket the stars.

On Tuesday he came home from school and set out a table and chairs under the apple tree. He picked a peck of apples and he and I enjoyed them right there, all the while I listened to him talk about how he wanted to invent something but couldn't decide just what since so much has been invented and can he sell his invention in stores.

On Wednesday he tied a box to the back of his bike and rode around the yard collecting who the heck knows what. He kept exclaiming how much he loved it here--this house, this land. And then he found a toad and named it Acorn and built it a home. He and I got sledge hammers and tore apart the old wooden planter box that sat at the top of the hill to revamp the landscape with stone we found and hauled from deep in the woods. Our hands in the dirt, rich with roots and bulbs and worms, I reminded him how growing things takes time and nurturing. Look at what we've done here--we remodeled most of the house, built a tree house and chicken coop and fence, landscaped, started a garden, planted trees and cleared out much of the old stuff the previous owners had let go--all in just over a year. And everything we do we learn, especially when it comes to gardening. We see what works and how to improve next year. It's a lot like life I told him--you've got to nurture it and give it time to grow, figure out what works and what doesn't, and learn the patience that comes from enjoying every stage of growth. It's about being present. What a gift it is to watch this boy grow. I can't wait to see what he goes out to do in this world, but for now he's all mine.

A Simple Message

Today I watched the sun rise alongside bird song. It is hard to capture the light inching across the ribs of clouds that line the sky. One minute it is just a blush in the east and before you know it the light reaches everywhere you look. It reminds me of autumn trees. Just a few weeks ago the leaves here had hardly turned. There's a red maple we pass on the drive to school and every day I point it out to the kids--telling them to notice its beauty every day because once it turns it doesn't last long before they leave the tree barren. Phoenix asked me why she should be looking at the trees and I told her because as her mom I feel it is my job to teach her how to see the beauty in the world every day, in even the simplest of things like a tree in a ditch beside a parking lot. To me that is one of the most important life skills I can teach them--being able to appreciate the simple beauty that surrounds them so they grow up contented and able to see the light side of things no matter the struggles they face. And because I want them to be able to be satisfied in this world that people often tend to over-complicate. I get a lot of advice-seeking messages from people who are struggling with hard times and always I point out their positive traits to remind them of their strength and their beauty. It's in you at all times so how could we not get through. Wherever you are, whoever you are--the sun is up and the trees that just a week ago were full are halfway barren. You will get through before you know it.