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"

What I learned in June...

Emily at Chatting at the Sky is hosting a blog party inviting readers to post what they learned in June.  By the way, this chick has a great blog, definitely worthy of your email subscription.

Please comment on what you learned in June, then share or forward.  We'll call it a party within a party...

Here are just a few things that I learned in June:

• Life is not, in fact, boring.  Sometimes things get wild.  Just when I think that I am going to be crushed under the sheer repetitiveness of cleaning this house and driving to the grocery store again, God grabs my whole basket of life and throws it in the air.  I have no idea where the pieces will land.  They will probably land exactly where they started and I learned in June, that I will NOT take that for granted.  Actually, I will probably will take it for granted, but not for quite awhile.

• Sometimes it feels kind of good when your basket of life is in the air.

• I glow.  This June, while our entire basket of life was in the air, my husband said I had a glow about me.  It's adrenaline.  I am not stressed by the pieces of my life careening around my head, landing who-knows-where, but I am awake, alive and aware.

• Sometimes God is like a freight train, fast, loud and powerful rolling right through your life.  You can run alongside and grab on or you can watch it go by.  This has happened to me before.  I LOVE IT WHEN HE IS LIKE THIS.  LOVE IT!  Just grab the train and hold on.  It is one of the few things I do well and I encourage you to grab the Train next time He comes by.  It will take your breath away.  It will make you glow.

• Running can be fun.  This is revolutionary.  I am a walker.  Two weeks ago I would tell you that I hate running.  My daughter and I started Couch to 5K.  It's fun.  I am embarrassed to admit that I  look forward to the three days a week that we run.  Seven weeks to go and we will be "runners" able to go three miles any time we want.

• I can still surprise myself.  (I didn't say confuse myself, that happens every day.)  Forty-two years old and starting to run.  After a lifetime of faithful Dr. Pepper drinking, I now prefer Coke.  Goodbye 30 years of Hershey's with Almonds, my favorite candy bar is now Milky Way.  Maybe it's early menopause.

• Don't take your local farmers' market for granted.  Their stuff really is better.  The weather here in NC is messed up this year though.  We had about three weeks of strawberries instead of six.  The blueberries and tomatoes are not here yet.  I miss my berries.  Next year I won't mess around. I will eat local strawberries because local strawberries taste like candy and store strawberries taste like cardboard unless you sprinkle sugar on top.  Then they taste like cardboard with sugar.

July may well bring the landing of the basket of life, most likely right where it was before.  But maybe not...

gotta go, there's a Train to catch,

m

Other posts you might like...

my favorite post...the identity of Superman

maybe the scariest day of my life...The Slidin' Chevy

when my kid taught me a lesson about giving...Nathan and the Bell Ringers

sounds like life and living and love

"Listen-To-Me!" I must say it hundreds of times a day, begging for their attention so I can parent them.

"Hey you, listen up!" I say playfully, ready to give instructions for some new and no-doubt life changing project that will probably require a mop to clean up.

"Listen to me..." I think in my heart...wishing to be heard but truthfully, often too full of self-doubt to even speak.

He listened to me, and maybe that's why I married him.  He still listens.

Listen, I remind myself.  Listen, while they still want to talk.

Do more than listen, hear them.

Listen to what isn't said.

Listen with eyes and hands and heart.

Remember what it's like to want to be heard.

Sounds like breathing babies near me in the dark.
Sounds like a good man getting up early to make eggs and go to work in the dark while I sleep.
Sounds like angry sounds and crazy laughter because there are three of them.
Sounds like dishes and vacuums and the mundane things of life, call them boring or call them blessing.

Sounds like life and living and love.



Blogging today at the prompt of Lisa Jo Baker for Five Minute Friday.  Every Friday she invites the rest of us to share.  The only catch is that we do our writing in five minutes, share and encourage each other.


Other Traveler posts you might like...all about surviving life with kids...or maybe them surviving life with me...
My Name is Butmommy
Confessions of a Reformed Helicopter Parent
King Robert of the Wild Hair

Fall...

Everyday.  I fail and I fall.  And I fuss at myself for failing and falling again.  Seems like I had it together about twenty years ago, like I rarely fell at all.  But I was wrong.  I was falling down every moment and didn't even know it.


Can't learn new things if you don't risk a fall.  Can't learn to walk or ride a bike or ride a horse unless you risk a fall.  Seems like you fall all the time and then you fall less and then you walk and run and fly through the air.  And it's good.  Way better than staying on the ground all the time.


You know, jumping is just falling on purpose.



Everybody falls.  Only one man in all of history that didn't fall.  And then He sort of did only He did it on purpose and He did it for us.  He fell right down on our mistakes.

My kids fall all the time.  I sigh and think, "Don't you get tired of flailing around wild and falling into things and hurting yourself?"  

And then I complain because my life is so ordinary.  

They have the same life I do, only they don't think their lives are ordinary. They make them rather extraordinary.  

But there is a cost for this extraordinary.  

Sometimes they fall.

Joining the blog party over at Lisa Jo Baker's today for five-minute-friday.  Check it out!  http://lisajobaker.com/

Blessedly Ordinary

I want to write, to have interesting things to say, maybe make a difference to someone.

But I am really, really ordinary and most of my days are not interesting at all.  My day, on paper, would not inspire.

I lie in bed thinking about how little I have to say and how ordinary I am.  I long for beautiful words to spill from my fingertips out to you.  Surely there is something of worth in my mind, right?

I have no idea about the worth of my own mind but I know where my worth is found and it has nothing to do with what I may write...or not write.  I begin to see that blessed are these ordinary days.

Blessed is the heaviness of a blanket and two quilts on a cold morning.  What I mean is…it simply feels good to wake to warmth and physical comfort.  You know, warm, heavy blankets feel good on my legs.  That’s it.  Simple.  Good.

Blessed is the sound of my sons playing quietly in the next room.

Blessed is my daughter still wrapped up, completely sideways, sleeping in the bed that belonged to my grandmother.

Blessed is the donut shop and every bite of that Boston Crème and I don’t care how many calories it is because today it made me happy to be there and it made my kids happy to start our morning like this, in a donut shop and you know what?  Judge me irresponsible but those hot chocolates with all their wonderful sugar, that was blessed too and we WILL do that again.

Blessed is a lunch of simple leftovers where everyone chooses what they want and we eat yet another simply boring meal…together.  Blessed is the laughter that goes with it.

Blessed is the sibling rivalry.  I am not sure how but they worked it out and perhaps taught each other lessons about doing unto others that my preaching could never accomplish.

Blessed are library books and the worlds they bring to our ordinary, slightly dingy red couch which, by the way, the dog licks when we are gone.   Seriously, he licks the edges of the couch.  I don’t know why.  Just thought I would throw in that boring little bit of reality.

Blessed are knee socks and veggie trays with ranch dip.

Blessed are the many conversations we have had today about the plot of The Magician’s Nephew and The Horse and His Boy and Legos and how Aquaman had the money to buy the elaborate mansion that Six and Seven built for him and did you know that when Anakin isn’t fighting battles he has pet snakes and a dry cleaning establishment?  I am grateful to know these things inside the minds of those I love.

Blessed are vacuum cleaners and all the dog hair that they remove from my life.  Blessed is our good dog who really does not care what his kids, my kids, do to him.

I anticipate that our ordinary dinner of hamburger stroganoff with I don’t yet know what else will be blessed because sweet daddy (my husband) will be home tonight. 

I guess ordinary can be pretty great.

Blessedly ordinary,

Michele