Tracking Ripples

Last Wednesday, a dear friend paid me the most beautiful compliment.
I smiled for days.
So, on Saturday, when I needed new black shoes, instead of my usual flats, I came home with the three inch heels I've always wanted to try.
On Sunday, I let someone in.
On Tuesday, Mary couldn't remember the last time I lost my temper.
Yesterday, my head finally touched the floor in a wide-legged forward fold.
And I took Beth's advice and wore bright red lipstick.
She has been smiling for days.

Cold Tea

I've been setting aside space in the morning to be free from urgency.  I wake up at five.  I turn on a lamp.  I steep some herbal tea.  I curl up under a pretty blanket.  And I think about stuff.  Maybe I'll blog with that time, maybe I won't.  Today, as I boiled the water for my tea, I looked around the kitchen.  Yesterday was a long (and beautiful) day of rushing around until we all crashed into bed.  That kind of day in a (or maybe just my) family of seven always creates a mess in the kitchen.  So, I thought about what my family really needed, and I filled the sink with hot soapy water.  Several hours later, I leaned against my sparkling countertop, chugged my now cold herbal tea and got on with the day.  Sometimes I need to be pensive. Sometimes I need to be practical.

There Will Be Beauty Too

My favourite thing about being me right now is this sense I have on being on the cusp of some great discovery.  When my eyes open each morning, it's with anticipation.  Before I close my eyes again, I'll have dozens of little (or maybe gigantic) failures and sadnesses among the sticky floors and laundry and snow banks that compose my life right now.  But there will be beauty too.  I will read stories and chat with a friend and find a hidden store of courage and make something good and practice yoga and sing and help someone and drink a cup of herbal tea and remember something and there will be vegetables and hugs and comforting and laughter and sound effects and games and scripture and maybe poetry and nice socks and blogging.

Jared Might Not Accept Future Snow Shoveling Offers

I woke up early today and it was a day like any other day.  I read for a couple of hours before the others began to stir.  I gave some good morning hugs.  I was ready for my workout when Jared came downstairs.  We noticed the snow blocking the van.  I offered to shovel in exchange for breakfast.  For the next forty minutes, I picked away at the icy chunks left by the plow.  It was twenty five below.  And I decided that I am a winter embracing Viking and needn't wait for spring to get the dog I've always wanted.  Then I convinced Jared that a puppy would make a great Christmas present for "our children," fell in love with a photo on the animal shelter website, adopted a black lab hound mix whom we've named Josephine, or Jo for short, took five wriggling children to buy a leash and food and toys, and sang Daniel to sleep with the following ditty, "Jo, Jo, Jo is a dog, and Daniel is her boy."

In other words, today I tricked my husband, made a fifteen to twenty year commitment, got in over my head, and made the dreams of five children and their mama come true.

Seven People Have a Lot to Say in the Woods

Hersey Lake has some beautiful trails.  We know because last week our family walked them...for three hours.  It was epic.  Frankly, Jared is the "everyone get your shoes we're going for a walk," parent.  I'm more "thank you for taking the kids I'd love a nap."  Now I know just how much I've been missing.  Everything smelled so good.  And the leaves were crunchy.  And there were birds, and squirrels, and tall, straight trees.  And we talked.

In the Rain

Jared and I walked around the lake again today.  It's been drizzly this week, so we've gotten wet and cold, but the poor weather keeps most people at home and the trails are quiet.  There's something about the smell of the forest in the rain that gives me permission and worthiness and a spine and a smile.

An Impression Is Made

I remember this time when life was heavy.  We'd been married for four years and we lived in a tiny apartment with our two-year-old and newborn.  Jared was in flight school and I was barely coping.  This one afternoon, we were quarreling about somesmallsomethingorother, when my high school boyfriend called.  He said he wanted to catch up.  We chatted.  I mentioned our two little girls, our stint teaching English in Taiwan, my husband and his Commercial Pilot's License, and then he said, "That sounds wonderful!" 

Ten years later, I still think of that comment and wonder how often the outsides of things match the insides of them.

One Story Told Twice

I just can't seem to get going this morning.  The children are watching cartoons and still haven't had breakfast.  I was a little sharp with my husband and I'm putting off my workout by blogging.  Plus I failed to run (or even load) the dishwasher last night.  It's always an off day when the kitchen's a mess.  I just felt so free the other night on that bike.  It had been almost ten years.  Cycling through our town, I didn't think once about stretch marks, or the extra forty or fifty pounds I could afford to lose, or all the things I should be doing instead.  Why can't I be like that all time?

My kids look forward to mornings like this when they can watch a few cartoons and get their own corn flakes...in plastic containers.  Family Home Evening was such fun last night that none of us thought about the dishwasher.  It only took me a minute or two, this morning, to get it going, plus vacuum the upstairs hall.  And now I'm blogging while my husband rubs my shoulders.  I'm on fire!  Maybe I'll ride my bike to get groceries later.  Cycling, the other night in the moonlight, I kept thinking about my brain.  Brains are amazing!  They store so much information (how to ride a bike) for so long (almost ten years) and they're always there, right below the surface (skull).

Balanced

On Monday, we had our Family Home Evening in the bush.  We carried empty yogurt containers and bug spray and tromped into the woods in search of blueberries.  It was beautiful.  I slowly filled my pail and watched the six fascinating people around me, "Look what I found," "Where are the raspberries," "How many do you have," "I spilled mine...again," "Here, you can have some of these."  I felt so full.  As time wore on, it seemed like a lot of walking for Daniel's small legs, but any time we offered cue, which is his easy, dear way of saying carry you, he refused.  He happily wandered among his favourite people.  He didn't want to miss a thing.  I understood that completely.

The next morning, I woke up early to a quiet house.  Everybody was still sleeping when I started the pancakes, honey and whole wheat and blueberries.  I savoured the silence and the taste of honey on my tongue, as I licked the spoon.  Still they slept.  So I started a yoga practice, there in my pajamas in an empty living room.  I breathed deeply and marvelled at my own strength, happy to feel my legs, and arms and lungs.  As I finished up, I thought to myself "Solitude is good too."

Nurtured at Camp

Camp was full of beautiful experiences (chats with amazing people, dancing by the fire, swimming before breakfast, silly pranks, pesto) and one really difficult phone call.  By Friday afternoon, I had been at camp for nearly three days and was missing my husband (which was a relief).  So I called him, looking forward to a light happy chat (I love you, I love you more).  It didn't go that way.  Instead, we discussed a hefty problem that has been on our plate for awhile.  It stirred up my deepest insecurities (I am not strong enough, brave enough, good enough). 

 

By the time we hung up (I really love you a lot, I know, I love you too), I felt deeply discouraged.  I prayed for peace and went looking for a place to be alone (and cry).  That's when Barb Kelsey called out, "Maggie!  We have a job for you."  She showed me this obstacle course they had set up for the girls.  There was a rope wound among the trees with a sheet hiding it from the view of the camp.  The girls were going to be brought to the sheet, blindfolded, and sent through.  If they held tightly to the rope, and ignored distractions, they would make it to the other side.  "Here's what we want you to do.  Just stand here and bring them through the sheet one at a time.  Then, say this," she hugged me and whispered in my ear, "I love you.  I know you can do this.  Just hold on and don't let go."  She leaned back and looked at me, "Okay?" 

 

It was just what I needed to hear.

 

Confessing

Yesterday, Hannah turned to me and said, "Mama, you look kind of fat-ish.  You know, like you're going to have a baby soon."

I turned to her and said, "Wow!  Aren't bodies fun!"  But I thought, "Dang!"

Not a Scaredy Cat After All

This morning, it was sunny when I went to the dental clinic.  In the past, I've been afraid of dentists, but today, I was calm.  I lay back in the chair and opened wide, completely relaxed.  Three fillings and one hour full of drilling, suction, and bitter tastes later, I was happily making silly faces in my rear view mirror with numbed out lips.  I would do it again tomorrow.

This afternoon, it started to rain.  And then it thundered.  When I was a child, a thunder storm was the cue to go hide in the stairwell, away from windows, doors, and electrical outlets.  Today, I gave my vegetarian chili another stir (secret ingredient:  Diana Sauce) and enjoyed the shiver in my core. 

Sometimes, it feels like I'm afraid of a lot, failure, rejection, regret.  But on a day like today, I remember that many things don't scare me one bit.

Freddie Mercury, Grape Leaves, and Banana Stickers

I went to a funeral today.  She was ninety-eight.  All of her children, and grandchildren, and great-grandchildren were there.  As they honoured her, I was so moved.  She was fun and bright and full.  They talked about how she read to them, how she enjoyed ice cream and Wayne Gretsky and horses and Freddie Mercury, how she only let her hair go white once Queen Elizabeth did, how she loved people, how she made them feel special.  I studied the large picture of her smiling face and I thought, "There's a woman happily being herself."

Afterward, I walked to the grocery store to buy couscous and bananas.  I was still wearing the skirt I'd worn to the funeral and I discovered I like the feeling of fabric swishing around my knees.  I noticed my fingers.  The way I hold my fingers when I'm walking is lovely.  I've got a strong back.  And my mind is an interesting place to be.  My elbows enjoy cool air.  On the way home I smiled at my impatience as I devoured stuffed grape leaves.  By the time I had covered the whole four kilometres, I thought, "I must try this being myself thing more often."

I put my bags down inside the door (couscous, bananas, olives, feta, tortillas, hummus, salsa, hot chocolate, arugula, empty container where stuffed grape leaves used to be), and looked up to see Daniel standing there.  I offered him a banana.  He wanted the sticker, and he promptly put it on the bridge of his nose.  It complemented the top of the popcorn popper which he was wearing as a hat, and his Spiderman pajama top, and his lack of trousers, and his smile.  As I bent down to kiss the top of his head (through the hole where the butter holder normally rests), I thought, "He's got it down."

Pull Up a Chair

 

I bumped into these chairs more than a year ago on Ana White's blog.  I bought plywood and two by twos about nine months ago.  I finished them last week.  I think part of why they took so long to build is that some of the joins were difficult to clamp and glue takes a long time to dry.  There was a lot of waiting and not a lot of momentum.

 

 

I get that building ten chairs is a big project, and I think I've mentioned that I have five children...whom I homeschool.  I'm a little busy.  But nine months is a lot of time to have a pile of wood sitting around.  I think if I were honest, I would say I sometimes avoided working on them because I was afraid.

 

 

 I really wasn't afraid of failing.  There was a lot of failing and it wasn't a big deal.  I cut things too short, drilled pilot holes too close to the edge, forgot to square until after the glue dried, set the compound mitre saw to the wrong angle, broke bits, lost bits, left half a bucket of wood filler out to dry, dropped a clamp on my toe, again.  I was afraid of rejection.

 

 

Most of the people in my life think I'm neat.  This project wasn't going to change that.  The only person whose opinion of me was on the line was me.  Now that I see that, I've decided to try something different.  I really enjoy these chairs.  They're beautiful.  I'm proud of the work, and perseverance I put into them.  But I'm not going to accept myself more because of this success.  Nor am I going to accept myself less because I anxiously dodged.  I'm just right.  I'm building bookshelves this week.  I don't feel scared at all. 

 

Gently

I'm pretty sure I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed.  My temptation, is to crawl back under the covers, maybe with a slice of warm fresh bread and butter...and a chocolate bar.  I'm equally tempted to scold myself for leaning that way.  Maybe, just framing either impulse as a temptation is a harshness I don't deserve and instead I'll let myself know that while it makes sense that I greet uncomfortable feelings with sugar and disdain, there are other options available, if I want them.  Maybe I'll go for a walk.  Y'know what is particularly satisfying after a walk?  Bread.  It also complements a warm bath, a new iTunes album, fresh flowers, herbal tea, a phone call to a friend, writing in my journal, reading the newspaper, doing a logic problem, knitting, a good book, a bad book, listening to the birds, finally watching that movie, snuggling sicklings, a TED talk, building something, sketching, piano practice, peanut butter, stories, family history, and instagram.

A Walk

When I was a university student, I walked a lot.  I didn't have a car or a bus pass so I walked.  As I did, Halifax became a part of me.  There are street names that still bring a smile to my face, Oxford, Quinpool, Robie, Barrington, Gottingen, Spring Garden.



Walking to choir practice this week

I haven't always loved walking.  We walked all over Bridgewater as children.  Sometimes the walk would seem long and we would play "My feet hurt so much that it feels like..."  There were a lot of elephants, refrigerators and pianos falling on toes.  But there were other moments.  I remember walking across the old bridge and feeling a little thrill seeing the LaHave so far below.  I savoured the time to think, walking up Dominion, or down Jubilee, along Alexandra.

We moved in junior high and there was less walking.  Once in awhile I would miss the school bus and walk the seven kilometres to Hebbville Consolidated.  I was amazed by my capability and independence every time.  My high school was farther away, so from grade ten on, if I missed the bus, I went home.  Eighteen kilometres was just not practical.  Except once.  I had a lot to figure out, and there was a day of grade eleven that was beyond me.  When the bell rang for second period, I just left.  There was a lot I couldn't control, and didn't understand, but there was me and I could walk.  It was transformative.  I felt Earth under my feet and I claimed the speck of this vast universe that is occupied by only me.

Over the years since then, I've often turned to walking.  We were living in Taiwan when my first child was born and everything about life changed.  I would put her in that green brown corduroy Snugli, and walk the streets of Kaohsiung for hours.  She would sleep and I would remember myself.  Or there was that season of defeat and countryside.  On one walk, it seemed every house had a 'Beware of Dog' sign and I was afraid.  I prayed for courage and safety.  All the dogs were chained until I hit a secluded spot several hours from home.  There was a sign at the foot of the only driveway in sight, but I didn't worry because I could see from a distance that it had four words, not three.  I'd never seen a sign that said 'Beware of the Dog'.  Suddenly a huge black beast with dangerous teeth was coming at me, growling and barking.  I ran in real terror.  He was gaining.  I've always believed my prayer was answered when I was able to turn, stand tall and say with conviction, "Good dog! Good dog! Go home!"  He stopped, whined, and retreated.  I didn't feel so much defeat after that. 

There's just something about a walk that brings out the strong in me.  I've missed it during this cold, long winter.  But spring has come to Timmins and I have found walking again.

No Banana Nut Muffin for Me, Thanks

This morning I watched these two incredible talks again and they have me thinking.


The moments in my life of which I'm the most proud have one big thing in common.  I was afraid I would fail.  In every case I was right.  The first time.  This is exciting because I tend to think that a sense of impending failure is my cue to bolt.  But maybe I can start to recognise it for what it is.  The beginning of something great.

Goals? Check!

My favourite chapter in this book was the one about goal-setting.  I took the challenge to write a list of one hundred goals.  I wrote the first forty in about five minutes.  The rest of the list took more work...and integrity.  I had to look closely at how I'm spending my time on the planet.  I was surprised by what emerged.  I want to see the Mona Lisa, be fluent in HTML, own a family canoe, and a dog, learn to drive a manual, give my children a stellar secondary education, write in my journal every week, float in the Dead Sea, live near the ocean, play the piano, land a small plane, know what's going on in the world, and eighty-eight other things.  I've  started today.  I'll be getting the paper now.  I'm going to bed at nine o'clock so I can get in some early morning yoga.  And, I 've given myself until May first to become a practicing vegetarian.  Wish me luck.

Dang It! He's Right Again!

Back in Novemberish, exercise equipment went on sale at Canadian Tire. When I say on sale, I mean sixty percent off.  We bought this.  It just made sense.  The motion of an elliptical machine is good for the joints because it's weight bearing and low impact.  It was less expensive than an annual gym membership for two.  Our winter makes consistent outdoor exercise difficult because it's particularly cold and snowy and lasts from Halloween until Mother's Day. 

It felt like a good decision, but Jared was concerned that after a couple of weeks, our shiny new elliptical would stop seeming like a fun and easy workout, and start seeming like a great place to hang a towel.  I don't actually have that much discipline when it comes to exercise, but apparently I have lots of discipline when it comes to proving him wrong, because I have worked out on that thing for at least twenty minutes a day, five days a week since then.  I'm more of a swimming, yoga, walk around the lake kind of person, so for three months this was not fun.  Then around March, something just clicked.  I started looking forward to my time with the elliptical and challenging myself to work harder. 

The upside was that these good feelings transferred over into other areas of my life.  I'm stronger and more capable.  Sometimes I feel overwhelmed by the totality of what I want to accomplish, my dreams and aspirations and laundry.  But maybe if I can do just one thing at a time that's enough.

The downside is that in February, Jared was adamant that if I just held out a little longer, I would start to love that elliptical.  So instead of proving him wrong, my dedicated hard work proved him right.