Schooled by a Wyld Angel: What I learned in April

Don't know what got into that girl.

Her age and the number on the back of her hot pink jersey are the same.

She blushes when you talk to her and her smile still glows with the sincerity of childhood.

She isn't mine but they have much in common, Shy Girl and my girl.  Two Wyld Angels twirling incessantly around chipped metal poles while I try to be friendlier than I really am.

That Shy Girl, she rides with her grandparents each week.  I've never seen her momma.  Her daddy finds his own way to the park, sometimes he walks and sometimes he takes a cab but the fact is, he's there, coaching two of my kids four days a week.

The ballpark is full of stories.  Parents adoring their kids, babies in strollers, Memaw and Papaw, tattoos, and beer breath, nachos and parents giving up their couches to coach kids.

Congratulations on number five, even though this baby wasn't planned.  "God is laughing at your plans," I say and the daddy agrees, "I guess He is."

Stories in the form of four-foot-tall kids in ball caps run around me.  I wonder about them.  Sometimes the adults turn away when someone loses control of their words and sometimes they speak up.  "Lighten up, they're just kids!" and old man growls at a weary woman with wild hair.

Shy Girl of the Wyld Angels heads up to bat.

I grow tense because I know her a little and I like this girl.  She might hit, or might not but she's new to the game and I want her to do well.  But most of these little girls, well, let's face it, they're so little, just learning, that's the point, right?  Maybe she can make it to first base.  That would be good for her.  Give her some confidence.  I want her to like the game.

The fact is, she probably won't hit it at all.

The pitching machine shoots the balls high tonight.  In my mind, I am already making excuses, stupid machine.  How can these girls hit the balls if that stupid, old machine keeps moving around?  My daughter is even shorter than Shy Girl.

Shy Girl swings and I'LL BE DONTCHA KNOW THAT BALL FLIES!

Shy Girl runs as fast as she can toward first base.  The other team chases the ball and it looks as though they almost have it.  The coaches yell, "Stop at first!  Stop at first!"  Someone has the ball in their glove and she really should stop.

She doesn't stop.  You should see her.  She rounds first base and keeps on cooking like it has been her plan all along.  She isn't listening to anyone.  That girl is on a mission.

The fielder on the other team throws the ball wildly.  No one is ready.  The ball hits the grass and keeps on rolling.  Shy Girl rounds second base and keeps on rolling.

Someone corrals the ball and locates Shy Girl in the melee, she's hard to miss in her hot pink jersey and socks.  They throw toward third base and the ball and Shy get there about the same time.  They might get her out there.

But that girl doesn't even slow down.  She runs between a group of girls and while they try to figure out what to do, she angles out to make the turn and the crowd goes crazy.

I'm out of my seat, yelling, "Run, Girl, Run!"

It doesn't matter what anyone says.  It is as though that little girl saw a chance and she's taking it.  An adult might reason that she has nothing to lose.  The crowd counted her out when she went to the plate with her bat in her hand.

I don't think she's reasoning.

I think she's just running.

 I am certain she doesn't even see the balls flying at her as the other team tries to get her out.

She never even hesitates.  She just runs.  All the way home.

Don't know what came over her but I think that when you are young like that, something as simple as hitting a home run one time, I think it can change your life.  We learn from our experiences and I pray that girl remembers this day when she did something big and beautiful  and brave and the crowd cheered. I pray that she remembers being the hero for a moment and running all the way home, regardless of what everyone else yelled from the sidelines.

This April I was schooled by a Wyld Angel.

I learned that sometimes, you have to make up your mind and run.

Ignore the voices around you.

Don't stay at first base where it's safe.

Simply refuse to see the balls flying at you.

Run with all you have from one base to another, until you get home.

That's what I learned in April.  Thanks for the invite from Chatting at the Sky...Emily, you are an anchor!

When a Friend is Generous, even though you're leaving

I wonder if he even knew what he was doing when he gave Bob that bow.

We weren't there all that long but we had some good friends in Rocky Mount.  Tom and Susan are good people. The first time I met them, they were giving.  Giving their time, advice and stuff.  They gave us floats at the beach, told us the best places to go and treated us to an evening of fishing.

Tom and Susan are simply kind and they are the kind of people I aspire to be when I grow up and quit being so selfish.  They think of other people.

They give no consideration to what they might get out of the deal.

Susan supported my little business at the farmers' market.  Tom helped Bob fix our cars.  They had us over and fed our kids. There are other things, too, and they were in it together.  Both of them making the world a better place.

I wonder if Tom even realized what would come of giving Bob that bow.

As we approached our 1,280 mile relocation, Bob, always an outdoors kind of guy discovered that archery is big here in Oklahoma.

Tom had two bows.  The day before we left, he and Susan brought one over and had Bob try it out.  Said he couldn't use two, or maybe that was Susan that said that.  Anyway, Bob made more room on the truck and we left North Carolina with a great bow packed carefully in our caravan.

Ten is moody these days.  He doesn't seem to want to do anything except play Mindlesscraft.*

*Names of PC games have been changed to give me a sarcastic outlet while protecting me from some law I have yet to learn about.

With all of this talk of bows and a visit to the archery shop, Ten expressed an interest in a recurve bow.  Said he might want to check out the local youth club that trains in Olympic style archery.

Bob got that boy a bow, a nice one.  You see, we only had to buy one.

They go shoot most Tuesday evenings and on Saturday mornings.  They shoot for hours, that dad and his boy.  Ten is pleased with how his muscles are growing across those boy shoulders of his.  He is pleased with how it seems to come naturally.

Bob and the boy talk about fletchings and anchor points and "splitting your arrows in twain" and we all laugh.

Sometimes Eight goes with them on Saturday mornings and he shoots too.  My daughter and I don't see them for hours and we do our own things.  At the playground Eight crosses the monkey bars and rings incessantly so his shoulders will get strong enough to pull back a bigger bow.

Those boys have taken a big leap off the couch toward being little men and they talk with their daddy and they learn to control themselves and they learn how an arrow flies through the air and they learn how to be considerate of others so that you don't shoot them.  Really.

They learn how to talk to each other.

One day Ten shot with Grandad and he began to learn to listen because this isn't Mindlesscraft but there are points at the end of those arrows.

You are going to leave a legacy.  Your arrow is going to fly, so take aim and aim well and aim high.

Tom, thank you for giving Bob that bow, and for being his friend.

Susan, thank you for being kind when I was a stranger.

gratefully,
m

This is another post in the Bloom Where You're Planted series.  If you only read a few others, pick these...
Bloom Where You're Planted
Love Does, our story
Do the Next Thing
Pecans Come from Pecan Trees, or the nut really doesn't fall far from the tree

Pecans Come from Pecan Trees

During one of the two precious hours a week that I am alone, I picked up a book from a box that should have been unpacked, ahem, awhile ago.  The book literally flipped open and there it was.

"Lord, guide my words that I might bless and not curse those who follow in my lineage.  For Christ's sake, Amen."  
--Bill Glass in Champions for Life

Oh my words!  Whether you are a person of faith or not, you know the power of words.  We all know words that bless and we all know words that curse.  Which have I chosen this day?

And this blooming stuff?  I already knew that my attitude had affected my children. When I was stressed, they nearly shut down. As we settle into this life, they relax more every day.  As I make a home, they find a home.  

Guess it's true, the nut, literally, doesn't fall far from the tree.

It isn't just words, but tone, actions and life itself.

It isn't just lineage that is affected but friends, home, landlord, or coworkers.

And this is just me talking here but I think it might be true that you are doing one or the other, either blessing or cursing.  So if my words don't bless, then...

That I might bless and  not curse everything that follows in my path.

What does the path look like for those who walk behind me?

Can I choose to make it a path of blessing?  Yes, I think I can choose to bless, most of the time.

Lord, guide my words that I might bless and not curse those who follow...

Amen.

Continuing to find ways to make the truest life right where you are at this moment, this is the 15th post in the Bloom Where You're Planted series. 

Letting Them Bloom

This must be the 13th post in the Bloom Where You're Planted series instigated, yes I said instigated, by The Nester.  I say "instigated" because this blogging every day stuff is hard.  I want to skip it.  But if I weren't writing to you my friend, if I weren't looking for good stuff in my life, I would probably be staring blankly at the TV.  I figure for me, right now, this is better!

This "blooming where you're planted" stuff isn't just for me.  It isn't just for grownups who pout because this fridge is smaller than the other one or introverted moms who would prefer to hide in their own little heads and not make the friends they desperately need.

The kiddos need to bloom, too.

They need to be allowed to bloom, to make their own new life in this new place.

They need help to find their way.

Robert started school at a traditional, public school for the first time in his life on September 17.  This is the right thing for right now.  My high energy, extroverted boy was wilting at home with his introverted momma who used up all her words by noon each day.  Big decisions are always complicated but I have to admit that at this time, it is the right thing for this child.

This week he brought home his second invitation to a birthday party.  I know nothing about this kid, these people, this place.  Nothing.  This is not my usual mode of operation, to drop my kid off with people I don't know to do who knows what.

On several occasions this week I contemplated losing the invitation and hoping he would forget.  "Do you really want to go?"  I asked.

I knew this was my problem, my own personality holding this boy back.

I knew it wasn't fair.  Or right.

Grab the purse and throw in a book, prepared to sit there the entire two and a half hours if circumstances or safety issues warrant my presence.  Take the boy.

It was a small place about eight minutes from my house where people can race some kind of toy car on a slot track or something.  The party was the only gig going on.  The birthday boy's parents greeted me at the door with a big sister, plenty of people to keep an eye on eight boys indoors.

I thanked the boy's mom for inviting my son, the new kid.

Robert's eyes pleaded for me to go.  So I did.

When my husband brought him home, he informed me that the folks there said Robert was the life of the party.  He beamed as he told us about his new friends.

I didn't see this coming, but it's right.

Letting him bloom, getting out of the way, this is right.

learning to let him bloom,
m

If you only read three others from this series:
Love Does, our story
Good to Know...another story about Robert settling in...
When you move back home...

Love Does, our story

This is the 10th, or maybe the 11th post in the Bloom Where You're Planted series inspired by Mary Englebreit and The Nester's 31 Days series.  

Almost 13 years ago, I traveled from Tulsa, Oklahoma  to North Carolina for a wedding.  

My wedding.

Love does that kind of thing.

Sometimes love even goes out on a limb like that.

We married six days after I arrived and settled into my husband's home.  We worked together, faced trials together, made a life together.

Love does that kind of thing.

We rocked three babies together.  We reached across the dark to feel our little ones breathe.

Love does things like that day after day, long night after night.

I was in North Carolina for almost 13 years.  We made a life but every day there was a moment when I was not at home, because my heart wanted to be Home.

This summer, B applied for a position in Oklahoma so that I could be close to my family.  It was a long shot. 

Did you know that divine intervention is real?

About four weeks later, he was in Oklahoma.  I stayed another month and then he came back to get us, to move us 1,280 miles. 

Let's not pretend.  He came back to get me, to move me 1,280 miles.

Love does that kind of thing.  Love goes out on a lot of limbs.

B left his friends to bring me back to my old friends.

Love does that kind of thing.

He left his family so that I could be with mine.

Love does that sometimes.

Love talks and dreams and plans and waits.  These things are sweet and smooth and they feed the soul.  These things blow gently like a warm breeze or soothe like cool water.

But love also does.  Love takes action and wields power.  Love has the undeniable power to blow pine trees over in the night and move the seashore, little by little, like the tide.  There is power in a love that does.

Love is like that sometimes. 

Love talks and dreams and plans and waits.  These things are good.

But I am also blessed by a love that does.

Thanks B,

michele

If I Were Someplace Else

This about the 8th or 9th post in the Bloom Where You're Planted series.  Thirty-one days of learning to put down roots and grow and really live right here.  The Nester started all this so you might want to click on over there and check her out.  To read the rest of the posts in the Bloom Where You're Planted series, go here Bloom.

Wishing to be somewhere else is a dangerous game.  I suspect it would pretty much kill your chances of living fully where you are.

I am not doing that today.

I am going to practice being grateful today.

Today, right here, is a list of things that would NOT have happened if I were someplace else:

My kids playing for hours at the park with their cousins.

Seeing the sunset over the pond while Eight counts frog calls in the dark for Frogwatch USA.

Signing school papers for Almost Ten and listening to him discuss the personality traits of various teachers.  (Apparently Mr. C and I have much in common.  In other words, don't annoy him either due to his tendency toward crabbiness.)

A raccoon standing in a flower pot on my front porch eating bird seed.  (Yeah, I know that isn't a raccoon, apparently my flowerpot is a wildlife magnet cause that's where he was.)

A raccoon/skunk trap in my yard.

Eight getting mad at his daddy for ruining his science experiment by watering one of the four plants meant for his science experiment.  He allegedly watered the one that was supposed to get "no water" when he washed the porch after removing the raccoon trap.

Making Angie's three layer chocolate cake.  Wow.

The kids making plans to spend Christmas Eve at their grandparents, without us!

Things that would not have happened if we were somewhere else. Good things.  

I am sure there would have been other good things, but not these things.  These things are precious, and I am watching for more!

m

More Than an Existence

"The purpose of life isn't to arrive at death safely..."
Christine Caine

Days fly by and it would be easy to give in to exhaustion, to wish for the end of our To Do list.  But is that really what we want?  The end of the list?

Maybe the list should be revised.

Our goal, you and me, is not to survive the day but to thrive in the day.

Our goal is definitely NOT to make it to the end but to make the end, the middle and all the rest as full of life as we are able.  We are to make life.

We are here to live and in life, to glorify.

We are gifted for this.

It is through the life we live that others can see life and want it, too.

Wherever we are today, you and me, live well right there.

I feel a cool, clean breeze in this calm moment where I can complete an entire thought while my children play in the Oklahoma sun.  

Where are you really, right now?

When Your Neighbor is Really a Superhero

Neighbors.  They are always butting in.  Then again, maybe that is just a matter of perspective.  

When you are looking for reasons to settle instead of reasons to run, it's like seeing flowers in the sunlight instead of the dark.  Like seeing them the way they are meant to be seen.

As a family we tend to keep to ourselves.  When we moved to Oklahoma a month ago, we leased a home to give us time to find our way around before buying our "long-time" house. 

We moved into an older house with red bricks and a big porch in a beautiful old neighborhood with big beautiful trees, expansive lawns and swimming pools.

We moved in next to McBride.

McBride is 89.  His grown son lives three houses down around the corner in an ultra-modern home built in the 1950's.  My kids call it The Fortress of McBriditude.  We suspect that is where McBride goes when he needs to hide from his public.

You see, McBride is a super hero.

I don't know how they began to suspect it but we are pretty sure it's true.  

Maybe it is the rumor about McBride climbing on his roof.  This rumor was told to Eight and me over the fence by his own son.  McBride's son said that if we saw him on the roof, we should tell him to get the h#)) off.  Eight told me later that he shouldn't talk to McBride's son without supervision because he cusses.  I tried not to laugh at his self-monitoring...be careful little ears what you hear.

I think we actually got the idea about McBride because of  how he mows his lawn.  He is incredibly fast.  Not for an 89-year-old man but incredibly fast for any man.  His aforementioned son said that he mows fast so that he can get in the pool.  He gets in the pool even when its freezing.  This is Oklahoma people.  It gets cold when the wind comes sweeping down the plains.

About three mornings ago I looked out my kitchen window and there was a ladder leaned against McBride's roof.  I know now that he does get on the roof.  But I also know his secret, he doesn't fly.  I will never tell.

Yesterday Almost Ten climbed up in the old sycamore tree between my drive and McBride's.  My husband was watching from the window as he tested a new freedom. When Bob walked out to check on him, he discovered McBride on his way out.  With a ladder.

McBride to the rescue.

My children are delighted to live next to a hero.  My children are delighted to live next door to McBride.

here's to seeing the flowers in the daylight,
m



The other posts from Boom Where You're Planted:
Good to Know
Bloom Where You're Planted
Blooms Start With Buds
Roots
It Takes Work to Make Blooms

Good to Know

Even though we had been there at least every year for their whole lives, this summer was different.  When we were there in July, the three children were, well, they were strange.  They were quiet and as four days passed, they got quieter.  It was embarrassing really.  I felt like a bad mother.  

Then we moved.  Now that place we used to visit is just down the road.  This time when we went to visit their grandparents, they were strange.  It was embarrassing really.  I felt like a proud mother.  It was wonderful to see those three children bubbling with energy and emotion and raw enthusiasm for life and making memories.  

At one point I thought my daughter was going to stand  in her chair at the table trying to tell a story to the family.  Her family. 

We were celebrating Almost Ten's birthday.  He smiled when he saw the balloons tied to a line from the house to the bell.  His smile bloomed full when he saw the sign on the front porch.  The sign they tied there just for him.

He knew the cake was going to be there so that was no surprise but the pinata on the table blew his mind.  When we all stood around watching him open his gifts, gifts chosen just for him, that boy turned redder than an atomic fireball candy.  The best part was that he knew those gifts were chosen for him.  He knew that his grandparents and his aunt had picked them out just for him.  He knew we had conspired to make this special, for him.

His laughter rang around the house as he chased his brother and sister.

He said he'd never had a birthday party before.  I frowned, we always have a birthday party.  Then I realized what he meant, "But it was always just the five of us, wasn't it?"

It was strange really, how the children had changed.  Their perspective had changed.  They are no longer visitors in this place.  Now they belong.  The people here know these children now in ways they had only glimpsed before and it feels good to be known.

It feels good to be known.

It's good to know.

love,

m

This continues the 31 day series on blooming where you are planted.   For more encouragement on choosing to live completely right here, right now, follow along by subscribing or liking the page on Facebook.  The other posts are here:

Bloom Where You're Planted
Blooms Start With Buds
Roots
It Takes Work to Make Blooms

Grateful for Today

This month I am writing for 31 days on how to "Bloom Where You're Planted" and its late and its Friday and I almost forgot entirely.  (Thanks to Kellie R. for remind me tonight that I blog!)  

Part of building a life right where you are is finding wonderful little things right, well, where you are.  And there.  And over here.  So, I don't want to keep you but let me show you just a few of my little things.

Behind every one of them is a big, beautiful prayer of thanks.

Feel free to share your own wonderful things...
m


The other posts so far...
Bloom Where You're Planted
Blooms Start With Buds
Roots
It Takes Work to Make Blooms

It Takes Work to Make Blooms

This is the fourth post in the 31 day series, "Bloom Where You're Planted" and let me say, this takes work!

It's hard to post every day.  It's hard for me to even remember to post every day. 

I am the woman set a daily alarm to remind me to pick up my 4th grader.  Seriously, I am scared to death that I am going to be late to get my boy.  Sure, I would remember eventually...what was I saying?

We are trying to think big, learn the layout of this town and find what our kids call our "long-time" house.

There are boxes to unpack, totally new routines and unexpected expenses.

My temper is often short and there is much hard work.

If you want beautiful blooms and good roots, you have to do the work.  You have to do the work when the earth is still rocky and barren and maybe you can't see anything good.

At least not yet.

Seedlings start small and they are fragile and tough at the same time.  You have to protect seedlings from frost but even tiny plants can grow through concrete.  I choose to keep sowing.

The rules of the harvest say you reap what you sow, you reap later than you sow, and you reap more than you sow.

I will keep sowing.

Bloom Where You're Planted

"Bloom where you're planted."  

Mary Engelbreit

Maybe I have the heart of a nomad.

I moved 13 times that I can remember--before I was 23 years old.  Maybe I am just not afraid to move.

Maybe I know that this world is temporary and so it's hard to feel at home anywhere.

Less than a month ago, my husband and I moved our family 1,280 miles to be near my family.  That wonderful man changed jobs, gave up some retirement, and spent quite a bit of money to bring me back home.

I lived in North Carolina for almost 13 years and now I'm back home in Oklahoma.

I wasted alot of time in North Carolina hoping for a possibility and wasting some of that present.

God forgive me.

Forgive me for squandering a million little gifts.  Beautiful days at the beach or in the cool of the mountains, mild winters and wisteria vines that covered acres of trees like a big, purple net.  Pine trees everywhere and tangy barbecue sauce that soaked into pulled pork leaving only red pepper and a tangy bite that goes perfectly with cole slaw.  Kudzu.  People, this Oklahoma girl had never seen anything like that before, vines like great, green ghosts covering entire miles.

Forgive me, too, for complaining when I finally got what I wanted.  Complaint is a dangerous thing.

Though I have been transplanted and though we are still in the throes of adaptation, I am making a choice.

I will bloom where I am planted.  This time I will bloom.

I will not compare the two lives I have lived.  I will miss old friends and continue to love them and I will leave this house and make more friends.  I will not get  my feelings hurt because I will choose to love here.

I will look for beautiful blooms that I haven't seen in 13 years.

I will make a life right here.

There are many beautiful things blooming already.  

One kid is at home at the local elementary school.  He is blooming.  This neighborhood just feels good.  The time I have had with family is precious, so is knowing it is not limited by miles anymore.  Old friends have come out of nowhere to help us.   I soak these things right up, and I bloom.

Who would have thought blooms came in the form of Braum's brownie fudge sundae and sweet barbecue beef brisket?  The constant breeze that is sometimes a hot wind and how everyone has a fenced yard because everyone seems to have a dog.  All the wonderful geographical names that come from the Native American language and make me smile because as yet I am the only one in my family that can pronounce them correctly.

My children will really know my family.  That may be the sweetest bloom of all.

The weight of what my husband did for me still surrounds me all heavy at times.  It is as powerful as the summer sun and I bloom.

It feels good to have roots in the dirt.  It feels good to bloom.

m

This post is the first in a month-long series where I get to go visit over at The Nesting Place.  This is quite an endeavor, a post every day for 31 days, but it is good to do hard things, right?  These posts, Bloom Where You're Planted, will be in the Inspiration & Faith category.  I am sure you will find lots of goodies there, enjoy!

Take the City

Sometimes you just want something.  Call it a goal, dream, need or whatever.  Doesn't really matter. Sometimes the thing you want is the right thing. Sometimes it isn't.

Sometimes you don't really know.

In older times, kings sometimes wanted whole cities.

Maybe sometimes you judge the rightness or wrongness of your dream by how easily it comes.  You know what I mean, if you are meant for it, it will happen.  Doors will open.

If you aren't meant for the path to your dream, doors will close.  There will be obstacles.  Maybe that means you just aren't meant to be--just aren't meant to have--just aren't meant to do--that.

I judge my dreams that way, but I think I might be wrong.

I think that stuff I just said about doors opening or closing, I think sometimes those ideas are trash.  Garbage.

Sometimes you have to work really hard for the things you want.  You have to get over obstacles and open doors yourself.  You may have to do these things when you are exhausted and unsure.  You may have to do these things when no one else understands why you do them.

In older times, kings took the cities they wanted by fighting.

The things worth having do not usually walk up and offer themselves to you.  You must take action.  You must do something.

Doors do not open by themselves.

You open them with prayer and endurance and elbow grease.

My friend, my self, what do you do when the door is stuck?  Do you stay outside?  No.  You find a way to get where you want to be.

In older times, sometimes kings took cities by starving out the people they did not want.

Sometimes you must sacrifice something else.  You cannot be all things to all things.  Maybe you have to starve something out to make room for what is important.  Things do not starve quickly, but if you do not feed it, the unwanted thing will eventually go.

In older times, cities did not usually open their doors and allow themselves to be taken.  At least not without divine intervention.

Sometimes there is divine intervention.  We can't discount doors that fly wide open or obstacles that remove themselves.  Say thanks and move forward.

Sometimes the absence of divine intervention is divine.  Maybe fighting the battle brings the reward of becoming a conqueror.  Maybe you will love your city well because of the battle you fought for her.

Sometimes the thing you want is the right thing.

Sometimes you don't really know.

There is only one way to find out.

Take the city.





On a less serious note:
Gifts from Cape Hatteras
My Name is Butmommy...
King Robert of the Wild Hair

small time

Taking a five-minute party break with Lisa Jo Baker this Friday.  Want to know more?  Check it out at: Five-Miinute-Friday.  It's Lisa Jo's party and she gets to pick.  Today she inspires us to write about one thing: small.  It amazes me how folks can interpret one word so many ways.  Click around at Lisa Jo's page and read what other people wrote. As for me, here, have a small piece of my heart.

Small time girl, grown up to be a small time woman.  I'm good with that.  Don't want attention, really, just can't quit talking here on this page.  Enjoying the idea that there are other women out there like little ol' me.

Small town girl, going from one small town to another.  Love livin' where you don't need a cell phone to find somebody.  There are only three places to go.  If your friend isn't home, she's at the grocery or Sonic.  Check your watch and take a guess...Sonic has a happy hour at 2PM.

Small hearts, can they grow big?  Sometimes it doesn't feel like it.  I fuss small words in a big voice and I wonder how my heart got so hard.  Dr. Seuss says the heart of the grinch grew two sizes one day and we all know the wisdom of Dr. Seuss.  Maybe there is at least small hope for me.

Small days, trapping me here in this home.  Trapping me here until I remember what I believe, that this is no small thing that I do, mothering these kids and loving this man and building this home with the hands of my soul.  Big, beautiful, small days.

Small gifts.  Little boxes with big things inside.  Small gifts might just be the best gifts of all.

loving the small,
m

More?
Blessedly Ordinary
More from Five-Minute-Friday: Fall
For your friends, "I Wanna Be Like You"

Gifts from Cape Hatteras

Last summer our family went on a vacation.  It was a miracle.  We almost never go on vacation.  We saved and we planned and we went and it was beautiful.  

Now, during this summer of craziness and stuck inside, we pack and a child heals and we save and we plan, and I return to those pictures and those memories.  I reopen the gifts of Cape Hatteras.

The Gifts:

Relax.  Just sit.  Soak up the good feelings when they come.  Just sit and be empty and be full, both at the same time.

Say "Why not?" way more often than you say, "Why?"

Creation is really, really awesome.  Creation is not tame or safe but it is in-your-soul-beautiful.

Squirrels can crawl under the edges of mosquito tents and eat your bread. They like butter cake but not caramel frosting.  Just thought you should know.

Run and play and don't care how you look.  Floppy hat, floppy shoes, floppy butt, nobody cares just run and play.

Making really fabulous memories doesn't have to cost a bunch of money.  We tent camped on Hatteras Island, which is almost 30 miles out into the Atlantic and only a few feet above sea level. We were sort of perched out in the ocean in a tent and the wonder of being in it all was thrown in for free!

Don't be surprised when the rain comes.  You don't have to be afraid, just get in a tent if you can and plug the leaks with whatever you have.  Find a bright side in the situation, like eating the s'mores supplies even though it isn't perfect.

Don't let it ruin your trip if a crab bites your heel.  However, if he is edible, eat him.  That's what he gets for not being properly subdued by mankind.

Life doesn't have to be perfect.  Don't miss out because you are waiting for everything to be just the way you planned.  You will make the others in your circle miserable but you won't make perfection.

There are times when your hair (or whatever) just doesn't matter at all.  Let it go.

Respect the sun.

Take the best part.  Give up on having everything and just take the best part.

People are nicer than you think and people really do need people.  Real people, in person, to eat ice cream with and tell stories with and ride boats with and it doesn't hurt at all to be friendly.

You never know which little wave is going to move something really big.  Most of the really big stuff starts with one little action.  Islands shift one little wave at a time.

Be grateful when you get to see one of THOSE moments.  My son, Nathan, was afraid of the water.  He was sitting on a boogie board on the wet sand and a big wave came.  Those inches of water picked him up AND HE RODE several feet.  I saw it in his eyes.  That wave washed away fear and replaced it with potential and we had to drag that boy away from that beach.  He asked for swimming lessons last fall and I am pretty sure he has grown gills.  I watched that moment.

You have to be watching to see those moments.


Thank you Cape Hatteras, we are grateful for your gifts,
m

Other posts you might like:
More about Nathan...
When ordinary is a gift...
Our adventure at Tough Mudder

Heavy, Heavy July

The weather is cool for July.  July is for lakes and watermelon and air heavy with water that soaks into my skin and through my clothes.

This is the coolest July that I can remember.  It feels light, like spring instead of the dog days of summer.

Days and days of rain and temperatures in the 80s have made this summer delightful.  It's also weird.

That swimming pool membership I wanted didn't pan out.  With rain several times a week, the swimming hasn't been that great anyway.

That camper we didn't pursue would have been sitting in the driveway.  We have other things to do this summer.

Possibilities hover around us but never land.  So we wait in the weight.  July is light but our hearts are heavy.

Difficult decisions hang on and on and how do you KNOW what to do?

Houses sit empty too long and cost too much and the decisions of the past come and ask questions that simply can't be answered.



I drive myself crazy.














A little girl turns seven in July and the doctor says it's time for a new eardrum.  She's ready to get her ear fixed but she doesn't know everything that I do.  It'll be fine, God willing, but my heart hurts when I think about it too much.

How do you KNOW?

I worry about the past that can't be changed and the future that isn't even real and I go crazy.  My mind knows it is useless and even worse, it's faithless.

My worry is faithless.

There is only one decision that can be made.

Take the next step.  Then take another one.  Keep on going until I come to a crossroads then make the best decision I know and take another step.

Take a step now.  Not in the impossible past or the imaginary future but now.  Today.

still grateful,
m