Soaring and Stillness: Life with the Chickadees

I'm linking up with Lisa-Jo for the last Five Minute Friday of 2012. Five minutes to write without editing, backtracking, overthinking...Five minutes of word freedom. Today's topic? Wonder. Ready. Set. GO! WONDER The season where everything is aglow...where eyes, big and small, are filled with wonder. Trees that fill busy city centers, movement everywhere. A small hand nestled in mine as we look at the twinkle and her sweet, soft voice fills the aisles of the hardware store. Wonder . In this most holy of seasons, I search for it. In her eyes, in the stories, the songs, the hymns and the carols, in His Word. I find it in the moments when I'm least expecting it. In the cherished books at bedtime she's pulling out to read maybe for the last season  and in the willowy figure that is turning from girl to young woman before my eyes. In the way he wakes and begins to try to rub the sore out of my stubborn hip and spine, even before he opens his eyes. Th

I sit here as the rain spatters the windshield, tucked in a fleece, dreaming of a warm fire at home. I'd know those legs anywhere, but I've never quite studied them as I'm doing now. Slender, tiny, able to reach great heights; feet that seem unnaturally flexible in form. Tonight, in the silence, I'm taken aback by how small they look next to everyone else's--black jazz pants in a sea of pink tights. Much like her wardrobe, those legs set her apart. How long has it been since I've simply watched her feet? Forced to see from a new perspective, I gain a sense of the reasons they peel, bruise, ache; with heels on releve, arches formed, toes perfectly pointed she puts them through their paces. I briefly catch a glimpse of a face in concentration as she stretches deeply. After almost eight straight hours she must be ready to finish. Never does she slow or falter,in each movement completed she offers nothing but precision. Her work ethic astounds me. A text com

Fall with the chicks is in full swing. Geometry followed by arabesques...our life moving full throttle. We wouldn't have it any other way . It's a season of solos being prepared for competition and a new duet partnership formed. The girls? They are in full flight. I'm on a slight autopilot, moving from place to place with a sewing basket, costumes, computer and lesson plans in hand. I know it will go all too quickly, so I'm working to cherish the conversations from the backseat and the bedtime cuddles in the midst of doing dinner planning a week in advance with fingers wrapped in band aids from one too many needle attacks. As I write, Little Bit sits next to me sipping a slush and reading the novel she's soon to finish. The Grace Girl's math book lies between us, from when she jumped out of the car to head into class after her younger sister's finished. The iPod plays and traffic from the highway near us causes white noise in the distance. Parked unde

One year. "Five hundred twenty-five thousand Six hundred minutes, Five hundred twenty-five thousand Moments so dear. Five hundred twenty-five thousand Six hundred minutes How do you measure, measure a year? In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights In cups of coffee In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife. In five hundred twenty-five thousand Six hundred minutes How do you measure A year in the life?"                                           -Rent Soundtrack A year Sara has been in heaven and we've continued here on earth without her. Some days measured in moments, others in miles travelled without her. Not one of those without noticing the lack of her here . Gratitude pours out for the way she lived...for the way she died. For the story she shared along the way.  Like most who loved Sara, we've spent the better part of the last twelve months learning to live without the fullness of her in our days. Her laughter, rich and warm , that resonated

We have no idea the power that our words hold. A few months ago, in the whirlwind of our dance recital/piano/academic testing/prep for NYC we had house guests. Neither my head nor my heart was prepared for the conversations that would occur during what I anticipated would be a visit of laughter and easy-with-you moments.  It was not that visit. Life is like that though, isn't it? Vastly different then we sometimes expect. Stretching and growing us. Bringing laughter and, in an instant, breaking our hearts. In a year when it constantly felt like brave was the word of the week, I allowed myself to exhale when that car pulled into the driveway. I thought I was safe. My guard went down and my heart opened.   I refuse to say that allowing people in is wrong. Loving others is one of the greatest gifts we've been given. I hold fast to this. I must. You should too. Learning to love others without judgement grants us an opportunity to share our stories...our hearts. It can also wound

I've been mostly offline this summer, save for instagram and a bit of twitter. We've been full out living. With two dance studios and eight total recitals in the month of May plus standardized testing, finishing up curriculum and a piano recital on top of all of it...sigh. I needed another me. June held more of the same. Solo prepping for NYC Nationals, tweaking, changing, storytelling. Daily Zumba classes for the eldest rounded out the weeks so that she would stay in top physical condition. In our home? We DANCE. We don't just twirl. It is not a hobby but a passion. One chased with sweat, tears, and full hearts. We're currently in NYC, where the Grace Girl Was accepted to dance at the Joffrey Ballet School. From eight to six she's worked on a perfection only found in the discipline of ballet. After hours? We've "cleaned" her solo for The Dance Awards, which begins the 4th and go through the 11th. She will compete for a Best Dancer title on the 5t

Today I'm joining my friend The Gypsy Mama for five minutes where I'll write without editing, backtracking, or second guessing.  Because in the writing? We see the blessings. Today's topic?   Opportunity. Ready, Set, Go....               .   .   .   .   . "Learn everything you can, anytime you can, from anyone you can - there will always come a time when you will be grateful you did." -Sarah Caldwell July 2010 She taught me many things, that sweet sister who best described our relationship as familyship ... Listen far more than you speak Hear with your heart Cherish Dream big dreams What is frustrating in the moment may serve one well in the long haul See everything in life as an opportunity When you live your life as though everything is an opportunity, nothing becomes a true disappointment. I don't mean that disappointment does not occur...I just mean that it won't shatter you into a place that you cannot

My Little Joy feels music deeply. As a baby she would often sing what she was saying instead of actually speaking it. When we purchased a piano for the chicks and began lessons two years ago, little did we know where music would transport her. Our Grace Girl plays because it is required. She enjoys the keys and fingering and sound. But ...she would rather be twirling. For Little Bit, it's an entirely different ball game. Yes, she adores and chases in her leaping sister's footsteps, but her heart is equally attached to the ivories. Two weeks ago she picked up "Fur Elise" and played it perfectly in her first sitting. No joke . I recorded it for posterity and for her teacher. She's since memorized it and has added some of her own flair.

Today I'm joining my friend The Gypsy Mama for five minutes where I'll write without editing, backtracking, or second guessing.  Because in the writing? We work to find and see with the heart and not the mind. Ready, Set, Go..... IDENTITY I watch you, standing there in the midst of girls  women-children that you consider your peers. Their ages eclipse yours, most by half a decade. These are your friends . Their height and weight make you appear waif-like, but you keep up with them all the same. Some even come to learn from you; you teach willingly and with a ready heart. Acceptance is what you seek in this place of yours that you've fought to create for yourself. Your passion lies here, in the leaping and twirling and rhythm of eight counts.  Here you feel at home I whisper to you as you sleep and repeat again and again while you are in the waking moments that this is not who you are ... it's what you are gifted at. Yes, you use your body and spirit to cre

Confession: I started this post on Thursday. It us now Tuesday eve and i am sitting here in the car at dance (with a pup on my lap) attempting to finish it from the iPad. It's how most of the last few weeks has gone...so I'm rolling with it. . . . . . My voice has been silent for the better part of the last few hours. (Insert wide eyes and gaping mouth expression here) In the whirlwind of the drop offs and pick ups and more drop offs and pick ups I've chosen silence. It has been glorious The chicks have been busy with end-of the-year rehearsals and performances and even a competition for the Grace Girl. I've been sewing costumes and pointe shoes and putting hundreds of miles on the vehicle. The professor? He's been illin' with pneumonia. A quarantine was issued and much cleaning done. After eleven days and an antibiotic he's finally at 50%. We've missed him. With a compromised immune system and two lives who depend on my cape-wearing anti

Today I'm joining my friend The Gypsy Mama for five minutes where I'll write without editing, backtracking, or second guessing.  Because in the writing? We find pieces of ourselves that have gone missing, that we're looking to unearth...even if only for five minutes. We find the REAL. Ready, Set, Go..... REAL It's what we are sometimes  when no one is looking. No one but the One who created us. He's always looking. He knew what He was doing when He made you...an echo I plant for myself in my head and my heart. It's hard. It's messy. It's full of tear stains...of "you're better than me" moments...of awkward, uncomfortable silences. It is a place where we generally run from, breathless, hoping that no one has actually seen us. Real can hurt. But... It is only in the real that we can find each other , find ourselves , find Him . In the acceptance of what we are and what we were and what we might never be, or in, perhap

An unknown author once wrote, "You can't wrap a hug in a box, but you can wrap a person in your arms." A statement which was proven false just a few weeks ago. A package arrived, ferried over seas, over islands, thousands of miles from it's origin. Destination? A southern front porch.  Sender? One sweet friend and her adorable daughter. In favorite hues it came, with love exploding...delicate practice embroidery done by a hand that not long ago learned to form letters. Pastels abounded. Gifts fit for princesses. The chicks were floored, in awe. As was I, working to control the tears that this box brought to my throat; whelmed with the pure generosity of it all. As it always goes, the Mama was last into the box. There, I found nestled gently, a beautiful note, tied with ribbon and specific instructions... Always one to obey, I promptly did as instructed by my heart-filled friend. Handing the camera to the eldest,  I un

I've been hit and mostly  miss for the last few months...but for a most excellent reason. (in)RL Yep. I've kept silent about it, but today (in)courage tagged me in a Facebook post, so I guess my anonymity flew the coop. Smile In addition to all of the normal ( wait, did I just call this nest schedule normal???)  that goes on around here, I've been working since January on Sara's Story  for the * gulp*  upcoming webcast that will go live this Friday, April 27th and continue throughout the weekend. Have you signed up?  If not, I'm encouraging you to do so here . I promise that this will be an event you absolutely do not  want to miss. The gang over at (in)Courage has worked tirelessly to bring you a conference of unmatched quality. Pure excellence. Faith, love, friendship and beauty all wrapped into a weekend event viewable from your home. Or, if you're near one ( see a list here )   a meet-up. As of today, there are 422 meet-ups happening around the wo

It's 10:24 p.m. and my right hand is gently dusting the shelving as my left gingerly picks things up and places them down again . I pray, "Dear Lord, please, please, don't let me drop something precious with this throbbing, swollen grip ." I'm bone tired. The professor is at a conference receiving an award and I'm here playing zone defense. I prefer man-to-man coverage.  There's been more zone than I like lately...but I work on choosing the gratitude and finding the joy. I listen to Ann's voice fill up the quiet of the car and pump loud over the thumping of the washing machine. The girls rush down from the dance room to see if we have a visitor who speaks over helicopters. I laugh, thinking that Ann Voskamp probably never raises her voice to that level. She finds the gifts .  Tonight, I'm seeing only crumpled up wrapping paper. Still, I listen... I have read the words more times than I can count on one hand. I'm hoping that hearing them

Hello warm weather Hello landscaping project Hello rubber mulch that is supposed to keep the hue for a decade Hello fluffy puppy who thinks lounging in the landscaping is a great plan Hello sweet girl doing laps around the house Hello fragrant snapdragons that decided to return this season Hello signs of life peeking through Hello, lovely Spring... I can't wait to see what you have in store

In the last few months, I've bitten off  a bit more than I can chew. Between homeschooling in both the seventh and third grades, two new dance studios, piano and tumbling lessons, the house, a work project, a new puppy and then ahem  re-landscaping the house last week, I've gone a bit coo-coo-la-choo. I'm behind on the normal, my inbox is a disaster, and my time here has slowed. Not a new  occurrence for me . I enjoy challenge. I go full throttle. I realize exceed my limitations. Of the heart Of the body Of the spirit I'm a work-in-progress.  I know that . It seems that my online friends seem to have quite the insight; I've received sweet words of encouragement that lift my heart. Perhaps I'm learning the art of transparency. Here in these words ,  I'm finding freedom. In sharing the truth of my story, I'm giving myself permission to be me,  just as I am. Just as He intended me to be. I am incredibly thankful to all of you for th

"I've decided." "You've decided what?" "I've decided what I'd like to be when I'm older." I knew this would be good, but nothing could have prepared  me for what came next. "I'm going to be Einstein. Or, you know, maybe Sally Ride." "Albert Einstein?" I managed to say, the smile showing only in my eyes. "Yep. But without the hair. He had CRAZY hair." She was serious. This wisp of a seven year old had plans. Apparently big ones. "You know what Einstein did, right?" Her father asked gently. I was so proud of him. If I'd been driving we may have been off the road at this point. His grin huge, all but hidden from her view by the angle of the seat. "Well, you do love school. You have to love it, a lot, if you want to be the next Einstein...You may be able to do it...", his voice trailing off as he shrugged his shoulders and smiled at me. I was also proud of the Grac

Our life is loud. It's filled with passionate voices, daily piano playing, and lots of music as the background to the daily activities we take part in. It's my heart, beating hard and fast as the elliptical cycles and I try to outrun disease activity that may someday make more still than I desire. It's in the crowds of people I try to avoid at the grocery store by shopping in the odd hours. Loud . The girls don't mean to be this way. They can't help their voices going up in pitch and volume with excitement and desire for attention. I often ask, "Are you just getting off of a helicopter?" To combat my desire to hiss "shhhhhh...." I turn to humor. Because the loud? It gets to me. I am a girl of quiet.  I love music, but will often turn it off and go mute for periods. I crave silence. The older I become the less likely I am to fill up the space with sound. I think, though, that maybe it is not the loud that I take issue with. It's

...He's One Great God. So thankful for a Savior whose love echoes around the world and back.

I carry His words in my heart, knitting them in and working to live them out. But... There are those days I need a visual reminder. It has been one of those days. So, I've captured images that give a glimpse of promises He has made to me that I'm carrying on the outside... For patience, for love eternal, for the hope I'm being renewed...In the knowledge it is all possible only through His grace alone.

Today I'm joining my friend The Gypsy Mama for five minutes where I'll write without editing, backtracking, or second guessing.  I'll write to find the beauty in the words...writing on empty in order to uncover a piece of me in this week that was crowded full of kids and deadlines, a  new pup and midterm giving husband. Ready, Set, go. EMPTY .  .  .    It's where I'm at right now, after a week where my limits were exceeded on Monday and then left in the dust. Where were the energy police when I needed them? No one stopped to give me a ticket or permission  to slow myself in the chaos of the week. My patience lies there too, plumb run out, as I cringe at myself after correcting my little about, of all things, brushing her teeth with excellence . Who brushes their teeth with excellence? I mean, good gracious , we brush them well, but excellence is reserved for other items, like speech, education, our treatment of each other, sharing what we believe...we do

Sorry I've been mostly absent this week; I've had my hands full with our newest member of the family... She's four pounds of fluff and cuddles, and has been a full time project in addition to all of our other regularly scheduled activities  for the last four days. We chose a breed that is a fantastic family pet, has a charming personality, does not shed, and stays small so I can easily handle her when my hands/wrists aren't in top form . She's had her first bath, played for endless hours with the chicks, and goes with us in the car everywhere  (I want to create a fantastic traveler). The only issue right now is changing her sleep schedule and wake-up time to better work with mine. Hmmmmm....any suggestions? Welcome to the nest, sweet Maizey Blue!

A friend and I were recently discussing having a “soundtrack” to our day. Do you have music that fills your head? Or does it fill up your heart?  If I was to ask my Little Bit this question, the pondering would be immense.  My babe, whose fingers grace a piano for at least an hour a day, loves music. It fills her up inside and bubbles forth as she hums and sings and fingers her piano from memory in all of her spare moments. This child? She goes to bed listening to George Winston on the piano and awakes with a song in her heart.  It fills her up. The Grace Girl is different than her sister, but not really . She doesn’t spend hours at the piano a week, simply the required amount. She hears music with her body. I watch her, dancing in her moments, to the music that fills her head. Toes pointed, arms positioned, she just hears it in a different way. Outside of prayer, music is the main way that I connect best with our God. It’s where I experience His presence most ful

My girls are missing a piece of their heart and this week  I am struggling with how to help them heal.  The mother in me aches to be able to put it right. I cannot . We've done okay with the whole grieving process thing, due in part to the sheer amplitude of our schedule. I think, each in our own way,  we have worked to layer over the pain with activity. That was working well.  Our ability to falsely cope and carry on with our lives was astonishing. Sigh. Back in September, when we lost our gir l, we cried, we did the silent sobs, we knew in our hearts that it was for the best, and we trusted that God's hand was in and over the entire situation. We still believe all of those things. We do...with every part of us. It's the empty without her that causes the pain. The way her face pops up on Facebook and Skype and the sweet tone of her voice coming from Little Bit's iPod on the nights when all she desires is to reach out and touch the computer screen and have her