Weave

Oh, 2013!
You have been remarkable. Truly.

It was on this day, last year, that I chose a word for you. I was perched on the edge of a whole new chunk of days and for the first time, I chose a word with which to walk out that gift of time.

WITH

I wrote a sort of proclamation for myself, a manifesto declaring my intentions for moving forward into the new year.

with
prep.

-in the company of
-next to, alongside
-in the charge or keeping of
-in support of
-among
-in spite of
-in the same direction as
-so as to be touching or joined to

TheFreeDictionary.com

It was the last line of intention that would end up cradling my entire year:

This year, when given the opportunity, I will choose touch over tension, embracing rather than rejecting, joining in place of separation. I am not an emotional island, nor are the ones I love. I will choose to move towards them, even when it is hard.
I will choose to be with those that are in front of me.Every.Day.

And so now, here I am, shaking my head at the methods of a loving God who, in His desire to be close to me, reached across the gossamer veil and planted Love outright, deep within me. My One Word was more than just letters on a page. My One Word was born in me.

This past year has been a collection of giving over and giving in, of walking into and in front of. 

It has held fear, only to be bathed in faith. 

It has stretched, first, thin and then swelled gloriously ripe. 

It has challenged my hopes, changed my trajectory, and championed my spirit.

That little preposition of a word continued to show up. 

Every.

Single.

Day.

And so, here I am again, on the cusp of a whole new chunk of days and, once again, I am choosing One Word.

weave

verb

-to make (cloth) by interlacing the threads of the weft and the warp on a loom.

-to interlace (threads, for example) into cloth.

-to construct by interlacing or interweaving strips or strands of material

-to interweave or combine (elements) into a complex whole

-to contrive (something complex or elaborate) in this way

-to introduce (another element) into a complex whole; work in

-to spin

The Free Dictionary

This word came to me in the hushed gray of morning this past week. My little Samuel, the very answer to a question I didn't even know that I had asked, the single greatest surprise of my life, was stirring. I peeked, sleepily, at the boy miracle within arm's reach and it hit me: 

I have a crazy beautiful life. 

So much poignant beauty has wound its way into each moment. The gray and the blue woven in tight with the yellow and the orange, in and out, over and under.

Each day is cut from holy cloth, bolts of glory by the yard.

And I want to remember this, for always. Because this is no small thing. In fact, this is a very grand thing. The greatest thing, even. 

So, I am choosing WEAVE as my One Word for 2014.

I want to interlace myself with each member of my sweet little family, in and out, over and under, creating beautiful patterns of light and dark, soft and scruffy, bold and demure. I want to recognize each individual for the uniqueness they bring to our clan, all the while, remembering that they are also part of a complex whole creation that is continually emerging, growing, changing.

I want to apply this to my other relationships, as well. I want to receive those that have been planted in my life and first see, really see, all the color and texture and gifts that they bring to the table. Then, after acknowledging that who I am is such a conglomeration of these people, we can go about the business of braiding ourselves together, in and out, over and under.

And then there is the writing, whose very act is a gathering, a stringing together of thought and hope and belief. 

To write is to weave, all the while, hoping and praying that in all of this straw gathering there will be flickers of gold.

So, I am extending a warm and open "Welcome" to this new year. I know that to do so is risky. There is no guarantee that 2014 will be kind to me. If this past year has taught me anything it is that the flip side of light is dark, the opposite of health is sickness, and the antithesis of security is uncertainty. But I am not going to let fear set the tone for what is to come. Instead, I am going to join hands with the Giver of gifts and, together, we are going to take warp and weft and weave beauty.

“For last year's words belong to last year's language 

And next year's words await another voice.” 

--TS Eliot

Photo credit: Flickr

Dive

Unscripted. Unedited. Real.

Writing for five minutes.

A sort of writing flash mob.

+++++++++++++++++++++++

The only way to pull this off is for me to willingly choose to lose my footing. Otherwise, it is no different than being pushed off the edge. 

I don't want to be pushed.  

But, in order to tilt slant I have to let the total of who I am pitch over itself. It means plunging headlong towards the bottom of the murky depths, despite my fears of what lies beneath.

I have to let what is known beneath my toes give way to nothingness. 

And then, for a moment, there will be freedom. 

For that in-between space, the one where I am neither on land or in water, it is just like that first day. That journey between darkness and light when I burst forth this side of heaven with a splash? It, too, was the yoke between the known and the unknown.

Only, this time, I must risk becoming unseen. 

For the flipside of leaping is a necessary descending.

But that arc? It is just part of one big cosmic circle and so there will be a rising.

My face will split the waters and I will breathe again.

"If grace is an ocean, we're all sinking."

-John Mark McMillan

Opportunity

Unscripted. Unedited. Real.

Writing for five minutes.

A sort of writing flash mob.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"It's not a competition. It's a doorway."

-Mary Oliver

Too often, opportunity is this fleeting concept. Something to jump on before its too late. The one chance to do something that changes things. A singular moment that can turn a life.

But maybe, opportunities are more akin to falling snow. 

When the first white flies, it is gift and happy and sparkly wonder all wrapped together. We run around trying to catch each flake and we marvel at their exquisitely unique shapes. It is magical. Inevitably, flakes land on our coat sleeves and then melt and we never get to see what crystalline shape they took. But we don't lose hope because there are others, falling one behind the other, and they all feel as if they were created just for our eyes to see.

No, we won't catch all of the snowflakes.

But we've walked out the door.

Photo credit: _Zeta on flickr

Dreams

It is early and my mind is still warm and swirly from those vivid morning dreams I have just before waking. The kind of dreams that are a patchwork of thoughts that have been nestled in the secret brain folds for days...weeks. This morning, there were jail cells and old students turned fitness gurus and really good cafeteria food and stolen kisses. 

And then suddenly, there was my alarm beeping and, very uncharacteristically, there was me fumbling for the snooze button so I could go back, just for a moment, and try to make sense of it all. 

But that never works. 

The fog between conscious and unconscious was too thick and divisive and the hands I wanted to hold and the faces I wanted to gaze upon once more were hidden behind a veil.

So, I'm left to the task of conjuring up meaning out of my predawn reverie. And it is futile.

I remember the dreams that I had when I was pregnant with my first born. Outrageous and fantastical were they. As I plodded through my pregnancy in my hazy nighttime brain, I slowly revisited all of my old boyfriends. It was as if I was on a mission to right all wrongs and close all doors and move forward with new resolve, prepped and ready for motherhood. It was weird and comforting and empowering all at once.

I haven't dreamed like that before or since.

Instead, I wake with disparate ideas that are impossible to interpret.

Perhaps it is not much different for me on this side of sleep...this interpreting of dreams. 

I've never been much of a real world dreamer. Although I am imaginative and poetical in the realm of the sun, I'm not one for casting visions on the future. I don't paint big pictures. I kind of just...am.

That is why I am going to 

Jumping Tandem: The Retreat  in April, otherwise known as "your big, amazing, ridiculous dream."

Ridiculous is right. As in, I don't have one. A dream, that is. 

Clicking the button to reserve my spot at the retreat was one of the stupidest bravest things that I have ever done. How audacious of me. Who am I to think that I can waltz into that beautiful retreat center that promises me amazing speakers, gorgeous accommodations, delicious food and CHOCOLATE and have a legitimate reason for being there? 

Big. Amazing. Ridiculous.

But I'm going anyway.

I'm going to be with amazing, ridiculous women in the hopes that all their goodness and grace and grit will rub off on me. 

I want a dream for the here and now that doesn't leave me grasping at mirages or old haunts.

I want a dream that will move mountains.

I want a dream that might just change the world.

So I'm wiping the sand from my eyes and rinsing out the bad taste in my mouth and I'm turning my face to the scarlet orange sun hanging low in the sky.

Join me?

“Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.”

-Edgar Allan Poe 

Photo credit: ~Brenda-Star~

Ten days later...what I've learned

I'm back from vacation and it's weird and wonderful all at the same time. I am both comforted and confused by the smell and feel of home after having been gone for days on end. There is even a little grief that comes upon the returning...the end of time set apart and away, contrasted with the realization that life continued on, even in your absence. The sun rose and set, rain fell, people went to work, time marched on...almost as if you being there mattered not. Humbling, it is.

And then there is the processing of it all. Perhaps I should just be like other people and let the last ten days be what they were: vacation. But I'm not other people and I write to figure out what I'm thinking and so I need to revisit it all. Again.

Ten days ago I was full to bursting with palpable excitement and energy. I had hopes and expectations of a trip that I portended as significant. Three generations were going to pack themselves up and journey together. This was going to be an adventure, dammit!

And, while there is most definitely a place for hope and anticipation, there is a more pressing need to simply be present and that, my friends was the first thing I learned while away.

Early on, I realized that if I didn't stop thinking about where we were headed and focus on where we actually were, I was going to miss the whole thing. 

And the whole thing was as big and wide as the Kansas sky. 

I found it in the early morning dark and the sharp smell of strong coffee 

in the small towns like Knob Noster and Emma 

in the bouncing of my dad's head to the driving rhythm of a Mumford & Sons song as the landscape blurred behind him

in the graceful majesty of miles upon miles of wind turbines, jutting upwards and spinning all pinwheel-like

And when the van decided to simply. stop. going

and we were, quite literally, in the middle of nowhere

when my usual response would most likely have been wailing and gnashing of teeth

my son, August, chose to respond with song. I turned from the symbol of ruin, the broken down van on the side of the road, and found my little boy and his ukelele and the dark ribbon of road, buoying me up with improvised melodies and suddenly we were gypsies and this was just the beginning of one grand adventure

And then someone told me to turn around and look and there was the sun, so heavy with orange and red that she couldn't hold her head up any longer and my cheeks glowed and we were all bathed in glory, swelling and sinking right there in the western sky.

That's how it all started, that very first day.

And it could have soured quickly and spoiled the whole brew but there were prayers being whispered and traveling mercies wrapped us right round and we had to smile at the angels disguised as tow truck drivers and state patrolmen.

++++++

I learned, on our second day, that even though I want to see and taste and feel the expanse of it all, my ability to truly capture every moment is determined by how I choose to frame them.  I take pictures because the lens closes in on those crazy rugged mountains with their spiky backbones and fuzzy pines and it disciplines me to do the same.  

I marveled at how thousands of pounds of rock could balance on its head with grace and gravitas and how maybe the impossible wasn't what I thought it was. That maybe, just maybe, I could dare to stand so boldly with dreams blazing and head tilted up and that what might appear as lunacy to some might be catalyst to another.

I stood small and, seemingly, insignificant before a cascade of rock and ripples and found myself with an incredible urge to scream my presence to all of creation.  As if, in failing to do so, I would be swallowed up by the hugeness and forgotten. But then I watched as the clouds played hide and seek with the sun and their shadows covered and uncovered the landscape beneath and I saw that there is a time for everything and everyone and all of it is unceasingly beautiful.

++++++

On the days that followed, we hiked among rock and ledge and we held our hands up to receive showers of gilded joy. The aspens shook with glory straight up and their quaking sang with a whispering beauty. As the skies turned to slate and dripped tears and the pines took on a darkness that hushed the hills, the aspens began to glow. The leaves were lit with a fire within and we drank up their light, eyes wide open and brimming. It's true...there's gold in them hills.

And we beheld the miracle that is a mountain pine. Roots held fast to rock, exposed to every extreme of weather, it takes the shape of its life experience. Unshielded, it becomes like clay in the hands of the potter wind and it twists and turns and wreathes upon itself. It would seem that such treatment would leave it maimed and disabled but it rallies, in spite of itself. The result is a gorgeous tableau of lines and curves that speak of both struggle and triumph and the beauty that comes from a life fully submitted and fully grounded.

I suppose the trip was truly epic--there were heroines and deeds of great strength and the muses spoke continually to my poet heart. But I think what I took most from this journey was the richness that comes from time well spent. Time with the people you love so much it aches. Time spent keeping your eyes wide open. Time allowed to unfold with wonder and curiosity. Time on top of time.

Go West Older Lady!

Go West Young Older Man Lady!

One more day.

That is all that remains before my family embarks on an epic trip to Colorado. 

Today will be full of hustling and bustling, list making and organizing, packing and planning. We will drop our dog off at the kennel that makes her smell stinky and clinical but where she is well-loved.  We will load up the family truckster with all the necessary accoutrements, fill fuel tanks and tires, clean windshields and seat cushions.

And tomorrow, when the sun peeks over the edge of the world, we will be driving away from it, headed West.

You see, we are making this trip with my parents.  

They were supposed to go to Italy, those two.  That was their dream and something that they carefully researched for quite some time. It was going to be beautiful. They were going to cruise the Mediterranean, eat themselves plump and take in the beauty of that boot shaped land. 

But, in the interim, my dad's hip and back and feet decided to betray him and my mom's leukemia got a little riotous and so Italy was put on the back burner.  First, indefinitely. Then, permanently.  

And there was a sadness.

So, for a time, they attended to their health and garnered up their strength. And then, being the amazing people that they are, my parents pitched an alternative.  Why don't we take a trip together instead?

And the dream for this trip was born.

Tomorrow, when we back out of the driveway and turn that loaded van towards the West, there will be a lot riding on those wheels.

There will be two boys who will take their schooling on the road.  The rugged landscape, the strange geological formations, the ancient homes built into the side of cliffs, the hundreds of thousands of acres of unspoiled land filled with elk and bear and mountain goats...all of it will become their classroom.  

There will be me and my husband.  And we will find ourselves in the unique position of traveling as parents and as the parented, navigating decisions with another set of opinions and perspectives, summoning patience for the young and the old, and loving each other through it all.

And there will be my parents, whose generosity of head and heart knows no bounds.  This time around, they will be passengers rather than navigators.  Their job will be to look wide-eyed at the beauty, to soak up the laughter of their grandchildren and to marvel at a length of days that is beyond a gift and is, quite remarkably, a miracle.

++++++

For the next ten days I am going offline.  This space will be quiet as I travel with my family and focus on being fully with them and in the moment.  It will feel very strange to not immediately share my experiences with you as I have become quite accustomed to chronicling my days and my heart in this space.  But I believe that this time away will grow something new in me.  I need to unplug and slow down and be present.  It will be good for me to have conversations with the people who are most important to me and wait for their comments, rather than virtual ones.  And it will be soul stretching to be still and quiet and listen for the sounds of the spheres.  Thank you for your patience and understanding.  

{Five Minute Friday} Change

It moves with grace and beauty, transforming night into day and summer into autumn...

It's there, the silent partner walking alongside my boys, dancing above their faces in the wee hours and stretching their limbs as they move and breathe and have their being...

It sighs sweetly in the habits of my day, as I smooth fresh sheets or fold a handful of napkins or pull a sweet smelling shirt over my head.

It even makes music as it clinks together in my pocket.

It walked beside a girl who made a promise to a boy one day and ended up with a new name.

And it ushered a heart of fear and trouble and endless questions into a life that continues to be renewed.

The Joy Thief

It sneaks in under the cloak of admiration.  Through eyes made wide with wonder, that insidious ingrate moves in with stealth and purpose.  It oozes into all that is good and alive and sets out to make its home in my depths.  From here, it can graft itself to my vision and begin to blur what is true.  It wants what it doesn't have.  It is that simple.

And I hate the way it wants to bring me along for the ride.  It is not content to ravage alone and it is fueled by the weakening of resolve.  When I sigh or swallow hard, it swells.  This power...this principality... is most active when I am most open.  When I look around me and desire to embrace the joy and the wonder, it is then that it most betrays.

It's that time of year again.  Thoughts turn to books and papers and rainbow colors and core knowledge and living ideas and Triviums and new math and, one day into it, I am left spinning.  I become like a spectator at a tennis match, watching the exchange, from one side to the next, one serve answered by a volley here and then a focused swing there and suddenly the points are adding up faster than I can count.

And I look at these lovelies on either side of my heart and its as if I've lost the rule book and I'm competing against an opponent who doesn't even seem to know that I'm in the game.  I want to grab my littles by the hand and run into the quiet of the woods where there is no ceiling and there is a presence that muffles the chattering voices that run amuck in my head.  I realize that the noise has moved in and I need to make room for the hushing.  

For when there is quiet, there is more room for truth to bloom.

Sometimes it is so hard to extricate the things I would like to be from the things that I can never be and the Thief's goal is to forever blur the line.  But the quiet, that beautifully orchestrated nothing, it is a clarifier.  And when I wrap myself in its silence, slowly, another voice emerges.  

That voice sings the song of my heart, not that of another.  That voice weaves a tapestry from my own homespun yarn, not that of another.  And that voice doesn't care whether there is anyone else in the room.  This is the voice that I must memorize, that I must let burn tunnels in my ears, that I must let fashion and mold me.

When I drink in the quiet, when I fashion margin on the edges of my person, I am protected from thieving hands.  And protection is what I need because my heart, it is a delicate thing, you see.  I want good things for my boys, yes, but I also want clear vision.  Because that Thief, well he takes innocence and wonder and the slow glow of a life well lived and he mutates it.  He will bastardize my legitimate hopes if given any space to live and move and have His being.

So I am spreading wide my cloak...to the fullest breadth of my reach...so that my boys and I, well we'll be protected from behind.  Like a line in the sand, I will stand my ground and I will not be moved.  And I know.  I cannot, will not, shade them from it all.  Because, to do so would be to cut them off from all that lies in front of them.  There is beauty and joy and hope in that view. There is scariness and disappointment and pain, in that view, too.  But, together, we can confront those things full on, with our capes flapping wildly behind us as the wind ruffles our hair.

{On turning 40}

Here I am.

I am here and nowhere else and that is okay.

And if I've learned nothing else these forty years, I am clinging to this truth:

It is this moment, right here, that breathes meaning and substance and contentment into every other moment that follows.

It is this moment that gathers and pulls, like a thread of gold, all the moments hitherto.

And I cannot think of a better fortieth birthday present to myself then to bathe in the glory of that.  

Because what is the rest of my life if I don't have right now?  

It becomes a crazy scramble, is what.  A vain attempt to make sense of the things that have happened to me rather than a gathering of the gifts that have been given to me.

And I'd rather not do crazy any more than I have to, thank you.

I think I will choose to slowly ponder the repast that has been forty years in the making and to recognize it for what it is...

something very good.

-----------------------------------------

I was inspired, recently, by a favorite blogger of mine and the list that she made on her forty-first birthday.  Although I felt like I already "knew" her through her writings, her list filled out the picture more fully.  So, I thought, perhaps, a list of my own might help you to understand me a little more.  I suppose lists are easy and overdone in the blogosphere but it is my birthday, doggone it and I will do what I want to, thank you very much.

Forty Things I Love

1. Early morning quiet

2. that I have managed to figure out how not to kill houseplants

3. my kitchen

4. Downton Abbey

5. photography

6. the first cup of coffee

7. cinnamon-raisin toast

8. the smell of clothes dried on the line

9. this song, on repeat, on my iPod, every day, as I write

10. experiencing epic books, for the first time, with my boys

11. gin and tonics with lots of lime

12. lifting weights

13. crisp mornings that pink your cheeks

14. apple fritters

15. pipe smoke

16. acoustic guitars

17. down comforters

18. Troytinis

19. sappy romantic comedies

20. the French language

21. nursing

22. zinnias

23. taking photos

24. not my feet

25. rooms lit by lamps

26. knitted scarves

27. rainy days

28. the sound of gravel under slow moving cars

29. bacon

30. birds

31. dogs. always.

32. the smell of a freshly mimeographed worksheet

33. and while we're at it, the smell of gasoline (I know, what the?)

34. my family

35. old houses

36. pesto

37. clean windows

38. fireplaces

39. chickens

40. my life

“Middle school is for being like everyone else; middle age is for being like yourself.”

-Victoria Moran 

Summer Bucket Lists

“...summer, after all, is a time when wonderful things can happen to quiet people. for those few months, you’re not required to be who everyone thinks you are, and that cut-grass smell in the air and the chance to dive into the deep end of a pool gives you a courage you don’t have the rest of the year. you can be grateful and easy, with no eyes on you, and no past. summer just opens the door and lets you out.”

-Deb Caletti 

August’s Summer Bucket List

*Swim in the lake—a lot

*Practice juggling daily

*Play baseball

*Have water balloon/gun fights

*Practice martial arts

*Exercise more often

*More Ukelele lessons with Dad

*Play tag (sponge tag, flashlight tag)

*Camp out at least once

*Have friends over for a “Water Day”

*Do more stop-motion animation

*Do science, everyday

*Write some stories

*Write a song

*Practice reading

*Work on Cub Scout activities

And also

*Look for pamphlets describing my new adventure story series, which will include adventure, romance, and danger…

Aidan’s Summer Bucket List

*I would like to form a club with Bud and me

*I would like to build cool things like gadgets and objects for underwater exploration

*I would like to exercise more in order to build up skills

*I would like to become more flexible by doing yoga regularly

*I would like to think about getting some new pets

*I would like to learn magic

*I would like us to have an outdoor Olympics

*I would like to make a comic strip

*I would like to make a trip to Kansas City, Missouri to visit all of the fountains

*I would like to go to Six Flags over Mid-America

*I would like to go bowling

*I would like to go swimming

*I would like to work on Webelos Activity Badges

*I would like to learn more about cooking

Oh my goodness these boys never cease to surprise me.  Give them a blank piece of paper and a few months of wide open space and they go places you would never have imagined.  Both boys were bemoaning their fates...that they had so much that they wanted to do and not enough time to do it in (*news flash boys: it only gets more so!).  I suggested that they just take some time and get it all out of their heads so that they weren't bearing the weight of it all the time.  I know, for myself, that if I get all my thoughts and expectations out of the black hole of my mind and down onto something more grounded, like a piece of paper, then I am much more apt to actually accomplish one or two of my goals.  

So, now that they are free from the burden of carrying around all these incredibly awesome ideas, they can get down to the business of being fully present.  We'll let you know how it goes.

“All in all, it was a never-to-be-forgotten summer — one of those summers which come seldom into any life, but leave a rich heritage of beautiful memories in their going — one of those summers which, in a fortunate combination of delightful weather, delightful friends and delightful doing, come as near to perfection as anything can come in this world.” 

-L.M. Montgomery

these are the days I hope they will remember

"You're writing the story of your life one moment at a time."

-Doc Childre and Howard Martin

some tweaking

"All great changes are preceded by chaos."

-Deepak Chopra

Please bear with me...I'm doing a little rearranging around here...a little spring cleaning, if you will.  I'm trying on some new layouts and designs so don't be surprised if things look completely different from day to day around these parts.  Plus, I will be adding some pages that won't be complete at first.  I just ask that you be patient with me.  I'm looking to strike that delicate balance wherein this space reflects both who I am and that whom I would like to be.

No pressure or anything...

If you have a comment or two, feel free to share them.  That way, I'll know who's actually haunting these pages.  Please know, though, that if I don't implement a suggestion, it's nothing personal.  I'm just kind of stubborn that way.

Thank you for reading and meeting me in this space.

Message in a bottle (kind of)

LEAP DAY!!!!!!

I've never really caught the excitement of a Leap Day before.  For whatever reason, it was just this weird phenomena that was lost on me and, honestly, I only ever gave it a passing nod when it rolled around.

Enter my two boys.
Their young perspectives changed everything.
every.
thing.

So, when this year's extra day appeared, we just had to do something to commemorate its novelty.
Enter Pinterest.
Although it can be a major time sucker, Pinterest can also be the source for some wonderful inspiration.
And that's where I saw the idea of a time capsule to be created on and opened on Leap Day.  Perfect!  Time capsules have always fascinated me but they always seemed to get created and then forgotten.  But the very elusive nature of Leap Days/Years would make remembering this one easy.  Plus, the shorter wait time between the construction and the re-opening of said capsule would make it more worth the effort.

I created a simple sheet of questions for the boys to answer.  Height, weight, shoe/clothes size, and a list of favorites.

 We then drew outlines of their hands so that we could compare them to their size four years from now.  I also clipped a bit of their hair to see if the color would change any.  If we had done this last Leap Year, we would have noticed a huge difference as both of my boys used to have blond hair.

I then had them dictate letters to themselves.  It was interesting to see what they were curious to know about their 13 and 11 year old selves (yes, that's right, I will have a 13 year old in four short years!)
August was really curious as to whether there were flying cars yet or if he had his own computer type device.  At the rate we're progressing, one of those is probably a given and the other one not too crazy of an idea.

 Then, I wrote a letter to each of them.  I tried to capture the essence of their personalities at their particular age right now...like mentioning to Aidan that he climbed into my bed to cuddle every morning... you know, the stuff that might change drastically by the time he is 13.  I also told them what I loved about them at this age, what I thought their strengths were, and a prediction or two of what they might be interested in at the time they would read the letter.  This will be interesting....

We also included a grocery receipt and a couple of pictures.  Then, we sealed it up and labeled it with explicit instructions.

It will be fun to see how much of who these boys are today still remains in four years time.  It's funny, we spent some time this morning watching old videos of the boys from when they were very young. I found it remarkable how, despite the passing of four or even five years, you could still see, so very clearly, the personalities that we know and love today.  How fun it will be to compare, again.

Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in.  ~Henry David Thoreau

It's the end of the year as we know it... {Part One}

Well, December found me very much preoccupied with everything but writing on my own blog.  I read a gazillion other blogs, mainly for Christmas inspiration, whether that be in the form of decorating or gifting or baking.  And I spent entirely too much time on Pinterest (how can you not get sucked down that rabbit hole?) But what I didn't do much of was write.  This little piece of cyberspace, the one that I decorate with photos and word pictures and quotes that I like and links to people far more amazing then me... well, it remained in the shadows.  The truth of the matter goes something like this... sitting down and gathering my thoughts and then pouring them through my fingers in a way that is somewhat coherent, well, it takes time and energy and focus.  And as much as I LOVE doing it, the fact that I learn so very much about myself when I read back over what I've written...well, it is work.  Good work.  Mindful work.  Life-giving work.

But work, nonetheless.

And this Christmas season I simply chose to expend that energy in places other than here.  I guess in the blogosphere that makes me a simple wannabe blogger.

Darn it.

And now I find myself at the end of the year and Christmas is over (well, not liturgically, but in the commercial, way-of-the-world sort of way) and I feel spaces opening up all over the place.  Literally and figuratively.

As I've begun to disassemble some of the Christmas cheer that has bedecked our halls this season I have been refreshed by the new spaces created. (I must pause here for one moment to say that I have never been more pleased with the way our little house was decorated this year...just the right mixture of homemade whimsy, quaint vintage pieces and the miscellaneous other things that John and I have managed to gather over the years..I loved being in my house this Christmas, especially when the lights were low and everything shimmered in the Christmas lights...)   The last few days have found me riding a wave of momentum and I have found myself inspired to prepare for a fresh new year.

But because "every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end" I wanted to take the time to reflect on this year that will soon be ending so as to go into 2012 with a feeling of closure and contentment.

Being outside...

It's something that has always been important to me and one of the things that I have made happen just as much for me as for my boys.  And this past year provided some very good outdoor opportunities:

*Eagle watching on the Missouri River
*The ThunderBlizzardApocolypse in February that my boys will be talking about for the rest of their lives
*Several hikes in the woods and fields around our house, the Spring ones being among the best because of the hope and joy they bring after a winter full of weather phenomena (see aforementioned weather event)
*Taking turns guiding paddles boats and kayaks around our neighborhood lake...many an afternoon was whiled away in this manner.  I highly recommend this activity.
*Finding new trails and Conservation Areas in the state to explore and discover color in forms that are never old or tiresome.

But despite the many pictures to indicate otherwise, we didn't spend as much time outside this year as we have in the past. I'm not sure why.  It is always good for us.  Always.  I want my boys to be connected to the natural world through experience, especially when so much of the world is connected by way of electronic and artificial means.  This is one of those items that I will be tweaking in the coming year (that will be a different blog post).

The Learning Rooms...

This has been an interesting year, homeschooling-wise.  Even though we have always homeschooled, it still amazes me how much I continue to think/analyze/critique/tweak/completely reconfigure/start over/try on new styles/abandon said new styles to return to what we were doing to begin with/question/question again/oh, and, once more, question...EVERYTHING.  It can be exhausting...if I let it.  But as I close out this year and look to dance into the next, I'm beginning to feel a little more comfortable in my skin.  I am continuing to learn that what sounds and looks good for another family may or may not sound or look good in our family.  I have been spending more time quietly and unobtrusively observing my kids, watching for the things that make them shine and, conversely, what dulls and diminishes them.  I'm tired of trying to fit my round shaped kids into other people's square shaped spaces.  We've spent more time "off" than "on" so far this year and I'm okay with that.  My kids have still managed to grow and learn and expand in unique and awesome ways.  One decision we made this year was to stop participating in the larger homeschool group's Co-Op and, instead, gather with a few close friends for our own "Mini Co-Op" twice a month.  It has proven to be a good move for us.  Friendships have been strengthened (between the kids and the moms!) and we've been able to do some things that we wouldn't have done on our own (frog dissection!).  I have some new ideas about how we might spend our time together in the coming year and I'm excited to try on some new outfits, again.

More posts to come...