*** post written last week
Oh Advent. Oh, somebody else writing about how they are going to do Christmas "right". Over the years, I have scoured the internets looking for wisdom, something, manna from heaven. Anything that would help our little family participate in Christmas without feeling like a#%holes (to quote my husband).
Because I am a planner, not at all, I started thinking about this around last Thursday night after the Turkey. I was already feeling the choke hold of this "giving" season, and the panic was setting in. And then something just clicked.
Do what you can, when you can. Don't ask permission. And Slow it way down.
I was watching a "vlog" the other day, a fellow blogger who so happens to be Catholic. She was telling us a little about herself, and I was struck by her confidence. Not, "I have this all figured out" kind of confidence, but rather, "We feel really good about how our family does things, it works for us, and we are content in that".
Ah contentment. Something in my DNA just wants something to be always be right or wrong, and yet I am rarely inspired or moved towards love when someone else behaves this way. I AM moved towards love and acceptance when I see someone content in their life, their decisions, and their ability to graciously live out those choices with others.
All that to say, we've been taking it slow. We ate by candle light last night as Josh has been reading our Advent scripture, retelling the story of redemption. We ate eggs and toast with jam. I will remember that night for a long time.
We bought a nativity, and the girls played for hours yesterday, with all kinds of theatrics. It was beautiful.
I have put two velvet ribbons on wreaths, and today we will probably buy a small Christmas tree.
We are going to celebrate the feast of St. Nicholas with candy and the Feast of St. Lucy with lights. I am sure we will visit Santa and I am sure we will have days and nights where we pretty much don't think about any of it and are happy to get in the bed with a heart that is weary and thankful that the day is done.
Oh Monday.
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
Monday started off right, with two cups of perfect coffee and some indoor time with the littlest. I then got to talk to my high school bestie for who knows how long and don't care, because it was great. The irony that I went to a lecture this weekend on "screen time", yeah, well Millie banked all of hers for a couple of weeks. Oh well.
She also colored the rug with "washable" green marker. She is coloring everything lately. walls, hands, feet, chairs, tables. ugh.
me, not winning.
Monday starting sitting heavy on me, too. The usual discontents. The usual unknowns.
The longing to not be a nurse for a season, and then pouring over your finances and just not seeing how it could ever work.
The opportunities are slowly showing up in the realm of possibility, but nothing is too for sure yet, so I am stuck in the waiting place, looking for the writing on the wall, in the sky, my coffee cup. I am not picky about its place. I just want to know.
A season of prayer and waiting seems like a good place to land.
yes?
She also colored the rug with "washable" green marker. She is coloring everything lately. walls, hands, feet, chairs, tables. ugh.
me, not winning.
Monday starting sitting heavy on me, too. The usual discontents. The usual unknowns.
The longing to not be a nurse for a season, and then pouring over your finances and just not seeing how it could ever work.
The opportunities are slowly showing up in the realm of possibility, but nothing is too for sure yet, so I am stuck in the waiting place, looking for the writing on the wall, in the sky, my coffee cup. I am not picky about its place. I just want to know.
A season of prayer and waiting seems like a good place to land.
yes?
hello little long lost blog.
Friday, November 14, 2014
oh my. I took a big long break. I have been writing a bit elsewhere. I needed some space to work some things out, but I have missed this little place. So what's been happening? September kind of ambushed us and we pretty much haven't stopped until this week, when the polar vortex or whatever the heck they are calling it this week, hung its solemn hat on our doorstep.
I am not made for this kind of weather. I become bear like with slow movements, conserving every bit of warmth, kindness, and sanity that I can muster up.
But anyway.
I've come to understand myself in a new way these past two months. I realize that I read, experience some spiritual renewal, and then I ride that wave for a month or two, until one day I wake up and the Facebook scrolling and binge Netflix watching rears its ugly head and I feel this deep need to breath real deep and take long, fast walks, grab that boogie board, and jump back on the wave. Life and its perspectives are always shifting, but as my "friend" Anne Lamott says, Grace always bats lasts.
Thank you Jesus.
All that to say, Here I am again! I know the internets are sharing a collective sigh of relief. not so much.
Sooo, general life update.
The girls, getting so big and and so fun to talk to. We've hit this easy-ish stride where everyone can speak in sentences and follow instructions. Annie is taking piano and Amelia thinks she is hot to trot in her little preschool class. There is still lots of whining and general exhaustion all the time, but we are having more fun than not, and well, it's all a big giant blessing.
We are still Catholic! We have finally settled into a parish and I feel more and more home. I have found real peace in the Catholic Church and much love. I hope to write more about that in the coming months. It feels so wonderful to have both of our children in Mass and for their squirminess and coloring books to be genuinely welcomed. We sat right up front this week, and Annie was humming the entire liturgy. I loved that.
Ok, I sense the yawning on the other end. I missed y'all! Happy Friday. Happy Fall.
Much love from T U L S A!
Brooke
I am not made for this kind of weather. I become bear like with slow movements, conserving every bit of warmth, kindness, and sanity that I can muster up.
But anyway.
I've come to understand myself in a new way these past two months. I realize that I read, experience some spiritual renewal, and then I ride that wave for a month or two, until one day I wake up and the Facebook scrolling and binge Netflix watching rears its ugly head and I feel this deep need to breath real deep and take long, fast walks, grab that boogie board, and jump back on the wave. Life and its perspectives are always shifting, but as my "friend" Anne Lamott says, Grace always bats lasts.
Thank you Jesus.
All that to say, Here I am again! I know the internets are sharing a collective sigh of relief. not so much.
Sooo, general life update.
The girls, getting so big and and so fun to talk to. We've hit this easy-ish stride where everyone can speak in sentences and follow instructions. Annie is taking piano and Amelia thinks she is hot to trot in her little preschool class. There is still lots of whining and general exhaustion all the time, but we are having more fun than not, and well, it's all a big giant blessing.
We are still Catholic! We have finally settled into a parish and I feel more and more home. I have found real peace in the Catholic Church and much love. I hope to write more about that in the coming months. It feels so wonderful to have both of our children in Mass and for their squirminess and coloring books to be genuinely welcomed. We sat right up front this week, and Annie was humming the entire liturgy. I loved that.
Ok, I sense the yawning on the other end. I missed y'all! Happy Friday. Happy Fall.
Much love from T U L S A!
Brooke
It's all yours for the taking
Monday, July 07, 2014
Vacation is really not a thing when you have young children. In our case, we keep rotating the environments, they are all peaceful or fun or a little of both- but it still carries with it the usual responsibilities, melt downs, and lack of sleep that life offers up in heaps during this season of life.
We moved to the southwest over 5 years ago, and this is our time. really, my time, to travel down South and reacquaint myself with the beautiful faces of my family.
It's the time, when my little girls put their feet on the soil of my own childhood. They look up and see the tall pines, the lazy rivers. The wide open Atlantic. Sea shells. Walks with sand in their toes. Salt caked in their skin. Fried fish and homemade peach ice cream. Fireworks. My people.
Traveling home, for me, however, often feels like traveling back in time. My growth feels stunted. I stand in the grocery store of my youth, and feel awkwardly 16 again. I imagine life then. It was starting to get complicated. Those memories are not the best ones. I have grown less afraid of sadness in my life, but there is some sadness, the kind that creeps up in childhood grocery isles, that feel best left on the shelf.
I am picking up contact solution, but I can't shake the past. I pick it up anyway, as if its for old times sake.
Every isle, a ghost of some sort.
I venture towards the baked beans and think some pre vacation therapy may be in order next year.
What's hard to explain is that it's all background noise. The present is a good one. The music is playing, the kids are happy and really its all very magical. They will remember these vacations. And there is redemption being played on the stage right before my eyes.
but the background noise, well, sometimes I just can't shake it.
I make it to the car. Take one of those deep sighs. Dr. Calhoun always said those were prayers.
I have been praying that prayer my entire life.
My daughter Millie prays it too.
In her deep 3 year old frustration, she often lets out a deep sigh.
We pass it all down, the good and the sad.
I wind my way back through the sleepy Georgia roads. Open the door.
The music is playing, kids are drinking juice boxes, and my sister is playing beach paddle ball on concrete.
I have been going about life so hard and strong, I have forgotten what it was like to reflect on much of anything, and the fact that my reflection has showed up some of my deepest wounds feels like betrayal.
Why, self, now? Can we not mosey down this road on vacation?
But it's echoes are all around me.
And they want to be healed.
Life is like this. It ambushes you on Friday morning and begs for more.
It says, this is good. but it can be better.
It says you are loved, but you can love better.
It says life is fast, and short, and long, and infuriating, and beautiful, and sometimes, even perfect.
It says those ghosts are talking but they aren't real anymore.
It says walk out of the grocery store and back to your family.
And then thank God it's all yours for the taking.
We moved to the southwest over 5 years ago, and this is our time. really, my time, to travel down South and reacquaint myself with the beautiful faces of my family.
It's the time, when my little girls put their feet on the soil of my own childhood. They look up and see the tall pines, the lazy rivers. The wide open Atlantic. Sea shells. Walks with sand in their toes. Salt caked in their skin. Fried fish and homemade peach ice cream. Fireworks. My people.
Traveling home, for me, however, often feels like traveling back in time. My growth feels stunted. I stand in the grocery store of my youth, and feel awkwardly 16 again. I imagine life then. It was starting to get complicated. Those memories are not the best ones. I have grown less afraid of sadness in my life, but there is some sadness, the kind that creeps up in childhood grocery isles, that feel best left on the shelf.
I am picking up contact solution, but I can't shake the past. I pick it up anyway, as if its for old times sake.
Every isle, a ghost of some sort.
I venture towards the baked beans and think some pre vacation therapy may be in order next year.
What's hard to explain is that it's all background noise. The present is a good one. The music is playing, the kids are happy and really its all very magical. They will remember these vacations. And there is redemption being played on the stage right before my eyes.
but the background noise, well, sometimes I just can't shake it.
I make it to the car. Take one of those deep sighs. Dr. Calhoun always said those were prayers.
I have been praying that prayer my entire life.
My daughter Millie prays it too.
In her deep 3 year old frustration, she often lets out a deep sigh.
We pass it all down, the good and the sad.
I wind my way back through the sleepy Georgia roads. Open the door.
The music is playing, kids are drinking juice boxes, and my sister is playing beach paddle ball on concrete.
I have been going about life so hard and strong, I have forgotten what it was like to reflect on much of anything, and the fact that my reflection has showed up some of my deepest wounds feels like betrayal.
Why, self, now? Can we not mosey down this road on vacation?
But it's echoes are all around me.
And they want to be healed.
Life is like this. It ambushes you on Friday morning and begs for more.
It says, this is good. but it can be better.
It says you are loved, but you can love better.
It says life is fast, and short, and long, and infuriating, and beautiful, and sometimes, even perfect.
It says those ghosts are talking but they aren't real anymore.
It says walk out of the grocery store and back to your family.
And then thank God it's all yours for the taking.
Subscribe to:
Posts
(
Atom
)
