Just Write 151

September 2, 2014

There is a kind of tired that feels so good while it also hurts to not be able to move your arms without hating painting. The kind that comes after hard work, together. After finishing something, or working your way (slowly) toward finishing. It’s hard to keep going and everything is screaming that I’m OLD, but it’s worth it.

Like childbirth. Only not.that.painful.

We are painting and painting at the Cre8tive Escape building, getting ready for our first creator’s retreat in the ginormous room downstairs next weekend.

NEXT WEEKEND.

We have had helpers, people who care about us and come to roll on paint or scrape the old carpet glue off the cement floor.

We pay them with….love. (How nice and generous, huh?)

I thought you might want to see what the ginormous room looked like before:

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Ironically, the words on the wall from the previous renters of the downstairs space say “Pace Yourself”.

We pulled out the old carpet, then came the scraping of the glue. And meanwhile, we painted the walls a color called Sea Salt.

See? Salt…

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Well, you can’t really see the color well, but that gives you an idea. And at this point, the floor had been scraped and cleaned and we had applied the primer for painting the cement. Yes, we painted the cement. It looks great, I’ll show you soonly.

Then this morning it was time to get the boys to third and first grade, and just like always, it hurts. It hurts to let them go in there and deal, you know? Just…deal. To learn to grow up with confidence and to face navigating relationships on their own, finding their way around, feeling the nervous feelings, and doing stuff like, I don’t know…math. I mean, how did these babies grow to be kids who can learn to add and multiply? How do they even know their ABC’s. I was there for it all and now I can’t wrap my non-mathematical mind around the number of days and months and years.

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I would write about divorce and all the Feelings that come with it, the way I somehow made it through last night while they were at Daddy’s and how I hurried over this morning so we could all start the new school year together, but I can’t. Not right now anyway. I haven’t gotten through feeling it and writing until I let it all out and found some kind of peace in the midst of it would take hours and hours. I don’t have hours and hours at the moment, and I need more quiet for my soul. I don’t have time for a lot of quiet right now, and at the end of the day, we’ll be together again and that’s what I need most.

I’m going to go to work, walk through this day, telling myself all the good things we have, in each other, in the way their Daddy and I love them and work together to serve them. In the beautiful Minnesota September morning. In the way they love each other.

We just keep going, like we do. Just like you and you and you, we do the best we can in this moment. I’m out here doing that with you.

It’s the first day of school. It’s the first day of the rest of the year. It’s the first day of the rest of our lives. It’s a gift, no? I think it is.

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This is the 151st installment of Just Write, an exercise in free writing your ordinary and extraordinary moments. {Please see the details here.} I would love to read your freely written words so join me and link up below. You can add the url of your post at any time. Just be sure it’s a link to your Just Write post, not to your main page. There are really no rules, besides Just Write! (Then link back to this post in your post so people know where to go if they’d like to join in.) (Any links not following those two guidelines will be deleted.)

Also. Please take a moment to visit someone else who has linked up! It’s a really good way to meet new writers and get inspired by the meaning behind their moments. Word?



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Just Write {150}

August 26, 2014

It was a stifling kind of humid this weekend and then just like that, it lifted. That’s Minnesota. It’s a “just like that” kind of place. This morning it’s so chilly I’m glad I closed the windows last night. I sit here now with slippers on. The air around me smacks of autumn, and so do all the back to school Facebook posts of yesterday.

We still have this one week before the call of the fall schedule. This one week, to shift gears, let go, and start again.

Sometimes people say, We’re ready! and I think they mean they have all their school supplies and the clothes that fit the season and the growing children. If they mean they are mentally and emotionally prepared, they need to be teaching the rest of us. I haven’t met a mother (or any guardian of a child’s life and heart) that feels ready for such changes.

New school years are like birthdays. As exciting and good as they can be, they are a slap to our nostalgia, our holding on, our parenting hearts.

Almost every single Facebook post with smiling (or eye-rolling) first day-ers yesterday said something like, “Where did the time go?”

We mark time with these First Days and time is a slippery thief, only slow in grief or illness. Most often, even when seemingly stalled, like at the DMV, time is a future-jumper, laughing and running away and leaving us standing there like our bag was just snatched while we walked along oblivious.

Summer stalls. Time marches on despite it.

Yesterday Elsie used a black marker to make something of a tattoo sleeve on her arm. She did this in a few moments while I stirred and measured, clanging around in the kitchen, right there with her. Then she took that arm and moved it back and forth across her face, her mouth, her cheeks, mostly. She was bearded. Black Beard. Smiling and proud.

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I laughed. I mean, pick your battles. Life is too short with time doing all that stealing.

Then I put the markers away.

We made and ate granola bites. We snuggled on the couch. We drew pictures on paper instead of arms. We played outside. We saw the dentist.

Every moment shifts, wraps itself around me while I try not to think too much about how we do half-time now, Daddy in the other house that is also their Home. How I miss too much when they are there. How my heart may never adjust and what of theirs? Are they as good as they seem? Will they adjust to school okay in the midst of this new life? How is it that they can be so resilient? Thank God they have a Daddy that is crazy about them and loves to be with them too. Thank God we are trying, so hard, to do right by them, each moment.

The mess we made with oatmeal, milled flax seed, peanut butter and honey…well, it was big. The stirring is tricky and the makings of the granola bites seem to escape the bowl so easily. To the counter and the floor, messes everywhere. My black-bearded helper beamed on and on and up at me. The boys bounced by with the guinea pig, laughing.

The granola bites themselves could have used more honey, or some chocolate chips.  I always add chocolate chips, but we were out, so we just kept it simple. We are still eating them. There is still a lot of sticky oatmeal on the kitchen floor.

We made a mess, yes. We also made tuna casserole, because that’s what good Minnesotans do when the weather shifts and the school year calls and says it’s coming whether you like it or not.

We will get around to cleaning up, and we’ll eat, and we’ll play, and somehow we’ll even fit in going back to school. And it will be okay.

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This is the 150th installment of Just Write, an exercise in free writing your ordinary and extraordinary moments. {Please see the details here.} I would love to read your freely written words so join me and link up below. You can add the url of your post at any time. Just be sure it’s a link to your Just Write post, not to your main page. There are really no rules, besides Just Write! (Then link back to this post in your post so people know where to go if they’d like to join in.) (Any links not following those two guidelines will be deleted.)

Also. Please take a moment to visit someone else who has linked up! It’s a really good way to meet new writers and get inspired by the meaning behind their moments. Word?



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Just Write {149}

August 19, 2014

They were wiped out, and so was their mother (that’s me!) but we were keepin’ on keepin’ on. That’s how we roll. And it is in the midst of all of the busy-ness and ugh and whining and arguing and trying and failing and keepin’ on, that we find the most moments of joy. No, not in the times when we try to make it arise, like planning a special trip or event. I mean, that’s fun too, but joy seems to prefer the daily grind and sometimes it is hiding behind the ordinary and can only be found if you keep going around the next bend. For us it was popping up in the middle of this: I came home from work. I had been at the Middle Fork Cafe, with the entire place full and just one me, until serving help came. Phew. The kids had a sitter and had so [...]

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just take a moment…for Ferguson

August 15, 2014

Honestly, once again, I knew too little. Breaking news is something I don’t have connection to these days, honestly. I am in a little starting-over-mothering-working-three-jobs bubble. I am blocking out the world a lot, which can be really good, but remember, the best way to overcome your stress and pain is to change the freaking topic from self to others. So. Ferguson. I am caught up now. And these here posts (below) by friends of mine say what needs to be said most. Please take time to openly receive these perspectives and learn from them. I feel the heart of a graceful humanity in these words. I do not feel the sometimes defensive and ignorant responses that are rooted in just not getting it. Please read these: Sarah Bessey – In which I have a few things to say about Ferguson Preston Yancey – When this is about Ferguson Ann Imig – My [...]

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