Surrounded

It so happened that I had a chance to spoil all the kids yesterday with a little outing. I took Phoenix to the science center, where we declared it to be national raise your arms day and walked around periodically throwing our hands skyward. Fisher and I went for a treat after I picked him up from school, and to make him feel extra special I proposed the treat stop while he was walking with friends from class. For dinner I took Ella to her favorite restaurant. On the drive there she asked me--how are you--in a tone that meant she didn't mean just on the surface. I told her I was good, really. And you know why I said, because I know that life ebbs and flows and I'm at peace with that. Some days you feel like you do nothing but errands and running kids and dealing with finances and chores, and there is all this other work you want to do that you can't find time for, like writing. But I know at some point the scales will tip and there will be time for the other. Even if on an emotional level I am weighed down or frustrated, because I choose to believe that life is rich and good--really a thing of beauty--that is always at the core of everything that goes on. So yes, I am good. And how can I ever complain when I get to share my days with Matt and the kids? For a while now I've had the start, or rather the meat of a poem holding space in my mind but haven't yet worked out the rest. It goes like this--the idea that anything exists at all--straw and styrofoam, stars, every single atom in the universe, me and you--is utterly amazing. So yes, how could I not be good when the very idea that we exist is so grandly unfathomable. One only has to look at the night sky and imagine infinity to know that. While driving to lunch with a friend last weekend a huge crow flew low across the road in front of me and up to perch right on the center peak of a home's roof, right above the door. Perfect placement that I witnessed in a split second whilst running late, as if the crow knew I was watching. We are surrounded by beauty.

Show Yourself Some Love

It could be any day, any mom I run into, but this most recent trigger was a few weeks ago when I saw a mom of 3 a the play area. We used to see each other every week at the library story time and then she gave birth to her 3rd and my kids' school schedule no longer allowed us to attend that story time and life is constantly reshuffling. And so it is. We were marveling on how our kids have grown, how busy we are, how much has changed since the days we met at story time. Like me, she is a stay at home mom, and like me, she does some part time work. She remarked how guilty she felt that her youngest does not receive her full attention because of her work and her running the older two to their school and activities. It is always a matter of time spent, and even though you need your own time, and to do things to nourish yourself so that you are better prepared to provide nourishment to others, there is always the sense that you could do more. This is the hallmark of parenthood--when you question whether or not you're doing enough, or doing it right, or giving enough of your time and attention. To be a parent is to be wrought with worry and guilt. Yet don't these emotions come from a place of love? Of good intention? Yes, we should always strive to do better and be better, and yes, everyone has room for improvement. But we shouldn't be so hard on ourselves, especially when the reason we have guilt is because we love and care for them so much and only want the best for them. And that's what I told this mom at the play area--it means your daughter is loved. Isn't that the best we can give, isn't love always the answer? I don't imagine that parental guilt and worry will go away, but maybe if we go a little easier on ourselves and acknowledge the good we do we won't get stuck in the fog of those emotions. To remember what we are doing right is a catalyst to keep doing right.

Making Space

Over Christmas I met up with my friend Tana who was back in town from New York City to visit family. There are words people will say that you take into your heart and hold onto, lines that stick to your ribs. One such line that stayed with me during our time was in regards to the intensity of Tana's adopted city--how the energy is so all-encompassing that sometimes when she gets home to her apartment she can "feel the city in [her] joints" and it is hard to decompress. Here in Des Moines I live on a small acreage of hills and trees. And yet even on this tract of wild where deer cross and critters crawl and poison ivy grows thick as tree limbs, you can hear the steady thrum of cars on the interstate. Sometimes I wish for a long stretch of quiet, to hear nothing but wind. But I've realized lately that to truly be at peace is to let go of the sense that space can ever be boxed in and kept, that it can ever truly be controlled, that it is ever ours alone. So we must have a heart that is fluid and without edge. Because nothing in this world in untouched--wherever you go you are faced with the comings and goings and markings of weather and animals and people and bugs. Swarms of mosquitos on your get-away camping trip, the long lines at the DMV, winter storms that squelch your road trip, the cacophony of voices--even now the kids are awake and have said "hey mom" a hundred times. Nothing is untouched--it lives, it all lives. To be free is to be and let be.

Stuck On a Hill

Our house has the perfect sledding hill smack dab in front. Yesterday Phoenix and I spent a good space of time going up and down until I tired of the up and down and went to sit on a sunlit expanse of land cross legged and with palms open to absorb the winter light and clear my mind like the bare branches of trees and the all-blue sky. It was perfectly still and quiet except for the swooshing of the sled and the little feet trudging through snow. And then after one down hill ride she lay sprawled atop the sled and hollered "Mom, I'm stuck." I answered "no you're not, you just haven't tried to get up." And so it was, she rolled to the side and got right up and continued on climbing and sledding, up and down while I kept on breathing, in and out. It struck me then how that's what it means to be stuck--in our thoughts, in a rut, in our habits--it is all a matter of not moving and not even trying to move. We get stuck because it is easy, when really all we have to do is choose to get up--inch by inch or in long leaping measures, it doesn't matter. It only matters that we give ourselves that nudge, that we try.

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

My ex mother-in-law, Deb, sent me these words yesterday--life is a journey, is it not? Wise words from a woman who is the epitome of grace. A kind of dignity we should all strive for. I teared up not out of sadness, but out of awe for the beauty of it. Sometimes our journeys seem rather unordinary and constant, and then you have those bumps that push and challenge and shake things up in a way where you wonder when your feet will ever touch solid ground again. My journey this year has been large. From selling my home and moving and remodeling this new home, to my sister's bout with breast cancer, to blending my family. I have an incredible 13 year-old step daughter, and even though not on paper, we are family all the same. And I have the head over heels kind of love that is written about in books. It came on as if it was always so, no beginning or end, no question. Every time I look at Matt I count my lucky stars. I could write about him and what he gives to the world on a mountain and still run out of room. Last night we were driving and I told him how strange it was to be on these streets that I passed as a child, how that young self could have never imagined I'd be a grown woman living here. As if our future is hinted forever in our present. And here we are with this love and these woods and this land with all our dreams for growing, all those hints of what can and will be. My favorite Christmas song holds the phrase "let your heart be light". I can think of no better heart to have with such a journey behind and before us.

Every 7 Minutes

More and more I have noticed how connected our energies are on a mass scale. Countless times while standing in a check out line at a store I look around and it's as if every customer in the store is ready to check out at the same time. Inevitably someone will remark how they need more check out lanes open, more workers working, and generally flummoxed as to why they can't be more prepared for customers. But the thing is, we come in waves. If we'd been there 5 minutes prior, we might have been the only one in line. But we didn't. We move in droves en mass. I can't help but think this phenomenon is animalistic, akin to watching a herd of animals storm an open field. We move together. When we see one person making a move, it sparks a chain reaction. Imagine what that can mean. Though we strive and push our individuality, the fact is we are still very much connected. Even in our silence we are one--there's that Harvard study that concluded there is a lull every 7 minutes in our conversations with one another. Some believe this is the result of being hardwired from our ancient hunter/gathering days as people would pause every now and then to check for predators. I've been tired ever since daylight saving time ended. A lot of people around me seem to be run down lately as well. I wonder if that too--the energy we have for making it through our days--is connected and affected and felt en mass. Imagine what that can mean.

This Guy...

It's been a year today since my first date with Matt. With the encouragement of my mom and some friends, I had signed up on Match.com with the only intention of getting out of the house on a few dates. I signed up on a Saturday night and finished up my profile the next morning. That's when I came across Matt's profile on there and I sent him an email. And another. And another. (I had forgotten to mention a few things in my first emails--and faux pas aside, I wouldn't date someone anyway who wasn't keen on my words and followed the rules of dating conventions. Plus I have things to say, and I can be impatient...) And anyway, I hadn't scared him off as that night we ended up texting each other for over 3 hours. The next day our texting marathon continued and by the third day we were both downright giddy to have our first date. We met up at a restaurant downtown and when he saw me I saw his eyes widen. He was clumsy and nervous throughout dinner, but as we talked he softened. And I bet that nervousness wasn't nerves but a kind of awe, as ever since that night we have maintained that kind of awestruck feeling for one another. I love his face. His brow line. His laugh. I love his kind heart and his thoughtful mind. Really no words can suffice for the gratitude and reverence in my heart. This man amazes me.