Soaring and Stillness: Life with the Chickadees

I’ve deeply wrestled lately with identity and purpose.  I believe I’m prepared for the road. I’ve diligently studied the map. But then, BAM, there is an unexpected turn or I encounter brambles that pull and tear at my clothing. Here, in the unknown, I turn into a frazzled, frustrated mess questioning each inch of the cartography.  “Why am I doing this?” “Is it even worth it to continue?” “Why is no one here to help me?” “Where am I actually headed?” I’ve long sought to teach the chickadees that there is a great difference between desire and purpose and that is normal and acceptable to question. Doing what we want to do  is incredibly different than doing what we are called to do. For small humans, it is remarkably easy to redirect the want for the should. It might have taken some extra persuasion, but generally those beautiful, big, soulful eyes showed agreement and little hands slipped inside of mine and we fairly easily continued down a path. They grew, and heels d...

Last night, something miraculous occurred. The phone rang. I answered. In the scope of the everyday ordinary it doesn’t sound like much, the act of seeing a call and accepting it instead of sending it to voicemail. She didn’t want to do anything but talk. Have conversation. Fellowship with me over cellular airwaves.  I answered because outside of immediate family, hers is the number set to bypass do not disturb. The phone knows that outside of regular hours, I’ve let her in.  I think she knows it too. She didn’t call for anything in particular; she was on her way home with an occupied babe in the backseat and had an hour.  She called me. I answered. We talked for the remainder of her trip. The big chick and the professor tried to find a movie to watch and wandered in wondering where I was and when I was coming back. Her little bit was occupied in the car seat and didn’t make a peep. I told them to go ahead without me. She let the golden haired angel watch the coveted tabl...

I have a dear friend who closes with  all shall be well . It's a battle cry and motto, but it's also a deep seeded belief. A series of words that she holds to when the sand passes through her fingers or there is no foothold in the wall. She's beautiful and kind and full of Jesus. She loves her family and her community. She brings awareness to what is important to her. She's also not long for this world. It makes my heart squeeze in a manner I'm only too familiar with. Growing up, September was about the roar of that big stadium in Ann Arbor, the crisp bite of a breeze, the cheer in the air. It was back-to-school clothes and waiting at the bus stop and the first hint of the brilliance of the trees. I met new teachers, lost teeth, found a routine, and loved every minute of all of it. Fall was my favorite, and September brought about all of the things that made it so, for she was the promise of all that was to come. Promises are interesting beasts. As kids, we pi...

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...

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

Sometimes having a heart full isn't easy. Carrying and learning and stretching... It causes an ache Today my heart is full. Full for my  friend that will sit and lie and undergo tests that will measure progression of something she has little control over. She remains fully in the light  and shines so brightly. But my heart? It's full of her, those sweet boys that remind me of my girls, and her husband who captures beauty. Her voice and spirit are strong...I'm the one coming all apart reading her script and seeing more in photographs than is there. Eyes overflow as I read another friend's words, her beautiful acceptance of the way things are and the wistfulness of what has been. Sitting in a wooden chair in the hallway at one of our three dance studios while my Little Bit takes class, tears slide down my cheeks. Knowing a pain like hers, seeing my girls in hers. The sweetness of their hearts...knowing that her thoughts will slide to them, to the future, to the...

I grew up in a large metro area in the mitten.  We then moved toward the beach with all of it's ah glorious sand and sky  moments. Four years later? Back to the mitten. Then we flew south. We'd lived under the dividing line when we'd done the Charleston years. I was a believer in warmth and hospitality. I even owned a frame that had a pineapple on it. I decided this time I'd become a rebel and forego the accent and sweet-tea.  I was not prepared for the culture shock that would assault our family.  I thought we'd done this before, it would be easy and we'd be accepted because our new area was practically a transplant/retirement zone anyway.  I thought  it would be a piece of cake. I was mistaken . We moved in, got the big kiddo registered in the local public school Little Bit wasn't school aged yet , found a pediatrician, a dance studio, and began looking for a church. We attended every neighborhood and work related get-together and went to the subd...

Today I'm linking up with The Gypsy Mama and trying out her five minute Friday. For five minutes I'll write, unscripted and unedited.  Today's topic? Remember.   Ready, set....Go. REMEMBER I can't remember what it's like to live not feeling every joint I've been given. The joke around the nest is that I still have all of my original parts. Every single one, even when I feel that they need a lube and oil. I'm grateful. The chicks mouths gaped in awe on on an evening not too long ago as I told stories they probably thought they were fairy tales  about... Dancing Playing soccer year round Running miles, long and hard, the breath coming from the deep and the exhilaration filling all parts of me Remembering... ...twirling in shoes pink and soft, feeling beautiful. ...long hours on the field in all weather, on and off for over a decade. ... how it felt when my feet barely touched the soil and I was lost to everything except the thou...

"Thanks for showing me that even on the darkest, rainiest days  the sun is still there, just behind the clouds, waiting to shine again."   -Lisa Harlow  It's dark and rainy here in our neck of the woods. It was lovely yesterday...glorious actually. The sun shone and the sky was the most beautiful shade of cerulean with the thermometer reading well over eighty degrees. Tonight? It's in the forties and the chicks are asking me to purchase their winter coats. Yesterday we wore shorts. Today it was cozy grey sweats.  Ah, change...I feel it with every part of me. My body told me the mercury had dropped in the wee hours of the morning, as my sweet husband whispered, "Are you sure  you want to go exercise?" I half groaned in the affirmative, planted my feet on the floor, and propelled myself forward knowing that my time on the machine would be longer than usual to combat the gloomy skies. My heart feels it, as it's now been over a month sinc...

Modification (n.) 1. The action of modifying something. 2. A change made. 3. A small alteration, adjustment, or limitation. I've been making a myriad of modifications around the nest lately, such as changing out shorts for cozy cable knits, switching lemony linen throw pillows for cream sherpa fleece, and altering my ever-too-long pant collection . Changing Switching Altering Three words that are synonymous with the concept of change and are found in the definition of modification. I've spent most of my life coping with Senor Change, and my letter to him would read something like this: Dear  Sir Change, I see you've decided to visit me again. I guess you've failed to recall that we are not  bosom buddies. I don't care for you. I wish you'd leave. You make me feel all sorts of upset inside. Remember when I was young and you caused such enormous upheaval in my life? I do. I also recall you wreaking havoc on my teens.  And my twe...

This morning it took all I had to slip from beneath the warm, cozy blanket and pull on my worn track shorts and tank. It was dark. Cold. Rainy. The digits were closer to six than seven. Way too early. I didn't want to go. But I did it anyway because that's what I do. I stick to the plan, follow the rules, stay on task.   No matter what. I'm disciplined. I'm not saying this in a proud or haughty manner, just as a matter-of-fact. It's a part of who I am. A friend used to tease me that I should have remained Catholic, because I am great  at making something ritual. So, I get up. I put one foot in front of the other, and I keep on keeping on. I want to nestle back under the covers. I want to spend the day in the abyss that is my heart. That's not life. Not mine anyway. I homeschool, exercise, study the Word, and do a massive amount of driving to the chicks' activities. I pay bills, manage the household, clean from top to bottom, and make sure all are...

Yippie for Friday...we've made it through the week. Seven more days removed from the lazy days of summer. Those are the moments that I'm missing this week. Ones of quiet and sleep and a lack of rigid scheduling. How about you, is there anything you're missing this week? Missing isn't always about wanting what you do not or cannot have in the present. Sometimes it's about looking back a bit wistfully and noticing what you need to work on incorporating into your days. Here are 5 things I'm missing this week... 1. Having family close. After two years you'd think I'd be used to going it alone. I'm not. I miss the girls being able to laugh with their grandparents, and my mom and dad having the ability to really "see" them as they grow up. 2. My best friend. Skype, twitter, texting and the telephone are all most fantastic and I definitely feel her with me all the time, but there's something to be said for just being able to "be"...

Wired. I'm wired. Purposed. Planned. I believe that what we're wired for is where we excel. I've come to believe that sometimes we're purposed for some things for a period and others for a lifetime. As a child, I was a nerd. Honest to goodness, teacher had to come and touch my shoulder to get my attention while I was reading kind of nerd. Bookish. Quiet. I excelled in school. I was a decent big sister, the kind who always looked out for her little brother, the one who brought him along to friends homes and played Barbie meets GI Joe/Transformers/ Skeletor as his whim dictated; I used constructs more than my Strawberry Shortcake dolls. I also once fed him a dandelion, but that's another story. I excelled. As a teen, I was still completely type A when it came to school. However, I found that a great group of church friends makes a girl bloom, the gift for which I will forever be thankful. I played soccer, ran track, sang in the church and school choirs, took up dance...

A clay pot sitting in the sun will always be a clay pot. It has to go through the white heat of the furnace to become porcelain . -Mildred Struven I've decided that the examination of the spot that one places her tush would be a good blog topic; actually, it may be a series of posts. I could be way out in left field like way way out but honestly, the locations we park our posteriors tell a whole lot about day and our lives. Some rarely pop-a-squat, while others spend hours in one position. I am usually up and down, rather than in a sitting position. My spot changes by the hour and sometimes by the minute depending on what the chicks' schedule holds. Location isn't always about comfort (it's usually never about this) but generally about view. My view...early yesterday afternoon Our eldest is feisty, spirited, and strong willed. She's also graceful and sweet, with a soul as deep as the river is wide. She's a gift. When she's not putting me through the fire ...

As the mama bird in this nest, I often feel that pieces of me are going in a million different directions; paying the bills, balancing budgets, schooling the chicks and accompanying them to dance and piano...in essence, keeping the nest. I flit and fly trying to get everything done. I was unusually unsettled Thursday evening, more preoccupied than normal because a piece of me was hurting. I spent the early hours of Friday in prayer and woke to preoccupation, checking texts and twitter, keeping the phone close. In the late afternoon my phone rang as I was working on piano theory with Little Bit. It wasn't a number I recognized so I let it go to voice mail , thinking it was simply a mistake. Five minutes later, same number. This time I picked up, the question mark in my voice. My stomach dropped as my heart broke; all I wanted to do was take flight. A piece of me was hurting. The call left me shaken and ready for action, but what was I to do? I prepared dinner with barely a murmur....