I watch them now, how they run from one end of the house to the other and I really do want to keep them here, in this space and time. I had this crazy thought, when my heart was bursting for the right now of them. I wanted to scoop them up and put them in a glass jar that’s just the right size to hold them, to screw on the tin cover, just to watch them, to keep them this way. Like lightening bugs. But of course that can’t be, they are not boys meant for bubbles or jars, they are my little people, and they’re here, free. So free it hurts. When I try to break free of the inevitable, to fight reality, to stop growth, trapping, controlling, even with the best of intentions, it suffocates. And yet, one part of my mothering heart wants to do it anyway, The Great […]
I’ve been a SAHM for about five years. Now I have childcare a few days a week for a few hours and during that time I leave the house, my children in good hands, and I work. But when people ask what I do, I don’t really know how to answer. I wish we could all just say “I work” and leave it at that. Yeah, all of us, mothers or not, gainfully employed or not, because life is work. I wish that a work title wasn’t just another way for people to gauge each other’s worth because we’re all worth the same whether that makes some of us uncomfortable or not. So anyway. I’m working on things, a number of things, writing and editing and creating things. The thing is, only one of these gigs pays me (currently)…and only a little. So all this work can feel less valid, I mean, if […]
{those of you who have been around awhile will recognize this post. It was originally posted on 9.23.09 and came to be known as The Dust Bunny post. I share it again today because it’s Valentine’s Day and so I’m reminded that love is best when the darkest places are uncovered.} There are dust bunnies. So many. They are under the bed and in me, scurrying across the wooden floors of my home and my heart. They are moving much too fast through the empty, bumping into toys and crayons and dried up play-doh, then coming to a weary stop. It seems no matter how we try to keep up with them, they are winning. So we sweep up only the ones that are out in the open and then we leave the house, coming and going with the living of everyday life. We could hold them out in the palms of our […]
I am here alone in a place with Internet access and food, trying to clean up my inbox and clear my head. But their conversation is turning my limbs light and my stomach in circles. They are men, with gray hair and pot bellies and low grumbling laughs, at the next table. They are reminiscing about the good old days, the “good old days” with women. Heat is rising in my cheeks and my heart is beating faster and everything in me wants to strangle, to rail, to fight, to scream…to get them to stop, to get them to see. Here you sit with all these years to know…and you still don’t know. They are talking so loudly…with so much pride, it sounds like bravado, and I feel sick. :::::Last night I was randomly struck with a thought, right before bed. I called out for Ryan, to come from the other room and […]
“Our lives are a collection of STORIES, truths about who we are, what we believe, what we come from, how we struggle and how we are strong. When we can let go of what people think, and OWN our story, we gain access to our worthiness-the feeling that we are ENOUGH just as we are, and that we are worthy of LOVE and BELONGING.” – Brene Brown I was trying to take pictures of them, Daddy and Asher, walking through the snow. But the screen was getting all caught up in the focus and I just didn’t know how to make it stop doing that. I ended up liking the photos anyway. This made me think of that Brene Brown quote up there and the way that things may not look the way other people like to see them, but if they’re yours or they’re you, they are good and enough, just as […]
Sometimes I have these epiphany moments that aren’t even really epiphanies but I don’t know what to call them. Then later, when I try to tell someone or think through my “aha moment” again, it just falls flat and I’m all, well that’s really nothing new. But sometimes the epiphanies that are set on repeat, the ones that come over and over again because I have to learn them over and over again? The ones that seem so simple and plain a little while later?They’re like an old hymn or a favorite movie I’ve seen a hundred times, the way that parts just grab a hold of me and feel new. Maybe because I forget so easily, but my heart remembers and so it sends a ping! to my head. Yesterday I was thinking about how strange it is that I knew anything at all Before (Before motherhood or marriage or sobriety), but […]
empathy, sympathy, compassion a passion for helping and then… empathy and sympathy and compassion fatigue. There’s just too much. But we can’t stop talking about it and we can’t close ourselves off from it because if we do, we’re doing nothing and everyone loses. I don’t know how it happened, but some years back I became quite passionate about the human trafficking crisis, especially the sex trafficking of children, of orphans. Around that time, through the music and message of Sara Groves, I came to know International Justice Mission. Ryan and I then became Freedom Partners, financially supporting IJM’s work to end slavery, trafficking and other injustices. But that sponsorship and the support of two children through Compassion International is all our family is doing. We allow a small donation to be removed from our account one time a month and that’s it…we call it good enough, and it’s not. What happens? What […]
Everything keeps coming out wrong. I try to write what this week held and I just can’t. I feel that way about going downstairs to change the laundry, too. I think of doing it and then I just can’t. I walk to the bed and lie down instead, like it’s the only option in the world. That’s what I do sometimes. I suppose it’s pregnancy hormones or the winter blues. It just feels extra cold and dark in every way lately and then when hard things happen, they feel extra hard. My thoughts get too heavy behind my eyes and then I just can’t pick up the book or the phone or write it out or play slap jack again. Or go downstairs for the laundry. Something strange is happening though, because I don’t feel like a horrible person or even a horrible mother over it. This is new. Usually I’m very very […]
Christmas, for me, is about one enormous gift. On 12/24/08 I wrote,“I love to imagine the unexpected fulfillment of love that first Christmas, breathing for the first time in the manger. His love filled the air like a scent, and moved through the people who came to touch Him. Love was all around.” Today the boys and I were driving slowly through the dirty and snowy streets to make our way to a new place to eat. We were going to pick up lunch and then head home. I was going to take a break from opening the fridge and staring at its contents for too long, wondering what to make for meal 2 of 3 in this day. I had my heart set on something fresh and healthy and it felt like a gift, to not have to make it myself. But the parking lot was full, very very full and so […]
We talk of old things and new things and I’m caught in between with a thousand thoughts and feelings tight in my throat. I feel it all, every memory with their aches and their releasing and then I see the depth and grace of what is happening now. Our bowls are piled high with noodles and vegetables that make a rainbow and it’s all covered over with a sauce that fills every space and covers every color, and we are thick with words and time and now. Two babies are coming and we have babies at home that are kids. We have years with husbands and more years of knowing each other and we watch the history of it all flashing across the table in exchange when we’re together. It seems that’s what happens for me anyway, when I sit with people I’ve always known. It triggers the long long ago past and […]
I walk with my Dad, around the track, lap one, lap two, lap three…but we don’t keep track. We get lapped by the runners and we lap the slow-walkers. One of the slow-walkers says, Good morning! like it’s the first time we’ve passed him, every time. And then sometimes he breaks into a run, his bent back and knobby knees pushing forward in short bursts, like he just can’t help himself. Like he’s racing and trying to win in the last seconds. I want to be like him. I want to be content going my own pace, surrendering to what passes me by and what I leave behind. I want to burst forth, breaking into a run every once and a while, when I have the energy, only when I can. It has taken me until age 35 to even begin to understand when to walk–when to wait and see and feel, and […]
I hear her over there and she’s saying, Well I saw that he commented on her statusand she’s not my friendbut likeI could see the updateso that’s how I knew about the job change.They stir the whipped cream through their coffeeand keep going, about updatesand the way they know things that way.I’ve been feeling scared to say hello to another stranger,she’s reading a Donald Miller book in a chair nearby.I figure we’re both probably going to hear him tonight.The conversation that’s still going makes me want to say hello to a stranger in person.So we talk a momentand we find out we know some of the same people.Her smile is the light up the room kindand I’m glad I asked about her bookand if she’s going tonight because she is.So we talk about what it is we love about Miller books.Right there in persontwo strangers connecting without a blinking cursoror a keyboardI had […]
So there I was on the TV. That was surreal. It was all a blur and then it was done and I whispered, I hope it helps. I didn’t know if it would…I’m just me, it’s just a few moments in time, but I hoped. Even if it was just one person, sitting on the other side of the screen, ready to see themselves in my story and feel less alone, I wanted something new for them. I wanted the mom or dad out there who feels stuck and alone to know that I was living it too and I didn’t believe in living in any kind of new way and today, I’m okay. I mean, I’ll always be a work in progress and this is in no way easy, but I’m okay, I’m better than okay. I am somehow living something new. I wanted that person to know that they can do […]
I love that perfect little looped curly tippy-top of a soft serve ice cream cone.Sometimes it’s even kind of hard to eat it, so I usually leave it for last.Then it can be pretty for as long as possible. I also love this picture: I love those what are we doing here careful and thoughtful looksand I love the way that Miles wanted to go home after five houses of trick or treatingbecause he thought that was quite enough candy ? I love it that sometimes, when my mom comes over,she brings her own vacuumbecause mine sucks…or does not suck, I should say. I love the way my friends in recovery know what I mean without too much explanation but let me give too much explanation anyway, just to let me get it out. I love that my dad showed up and rescued us one day by finding where that dead-something smell was […]
I’m sitting in the space between knowing and not knowing. I don’t know what else to do besides pray and wait and write it out. I don’t know why I generally feel the need to write it all out publicly. I really don’t. I’ve given up being all that concerned about why I do because when I check myself, I don’t feel needy or dramatic or any of the other forms of the self-seeking I’m fighting. When something is going on in my head and heart, I have a terribly hard time not talking about it. I don’t have that ability to hold back and hold close like many people do. I can’t see through my thoughts and feelings to small talk or fodder. I just can’t. Maybe I trust too easily or fear too little or maybe I fear too much so I just want to let the words out in a […]
The point here is to see the beauty in the everyday monotonous things of miraculous significance. I want to highlight those things here, in this space made for me and for you with pictures and words. I need to highlight the beautiful things here. Then at the same time I spill all my angst here because even the pain is somehow mysteriously beautiful. I always hope my heart-words run across your screens and then they travel through you and remind you that your thoughts aren’t lonely and neither are your feelings, no matter what they are. Sometimes it’s really hard to see the beauty through all the pain, isn’t it?Sometimes we’re just holding on and there’s nothing left, no eyes to see because the world or life has shut those eyelids like the slam of an angry door. My whole life, I’ve felt the emotions of others intensely. The shock waves of sorrow […]
This weekend, I watched No Impact Man. Twice. So many things that Colin Beaven and his wife Michelle said in this documentary were articulated in such a way that they penetrated my head and heart differently than ever before. I started to care more about the environment in a new way, I guess. It’s as if Colin took my thoughts and recycled them, making the end product something more meaningful than the small seeds that were planted within me before. And that was the point. The point wasn’t to be some crazy fringe extremist, a man bent on doing something fanatical to get attention for a book. The point was simply to get people to think. And isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? We’re here to live in such a way that our one-person impact inspires positive change in the lives of other people. The people we’re all connected to in one […]
We painted. For hours. It was our anniversary and the two short dudes were staying with Nanny and Bapa. Painting may not sound like a very nice way to spend a day celebrating six years of perfect wedded bliss, but there we were. (Actuallly, we like to work on house projects together when without the kiddos. We talk, we boss each other around, we take our time.) Anyway. We were painting the kitchen and taking turns observing out loud how annoying it was that the paint didn’t seem to want to be on the wall. Or maybe, it was the previous coat of paint that was trying to shirk off the new and better, brighter color. We rolled and rolled and brushed and brushed and the paint put up its fight, acting all see-through no matter what amount of paint was being slathered over it. Of course, this was an analogy to me. […]
So I disappear for a while and then I come back with a random post, waxing philosophical on crying strangers. Am weird. Then so many of you were kind enough to say something along the lines of Um…okay, Heather…but how are YOU? I’m well{ish} I’m trying to make friends with the middle. And by that I mean that I struggle to be okay with not being perfect while I also mostly just want to cave to being the opposite of perfect. For example, I feel so much more peace these days about all things motherhood. I used to ruminate and worry much more than I do with sobriety in my pocket, and it’s strange new territory. Because as an addict (and a human being) I have this all or nothing tendency. So. That whole peace thing is bordering on laziness. Believe me. I know. I live here. Yesterday I did more nothing than […]
I’m sitting here with some acoustic folk. Not folk as in people, but with folk music, and I’m wondering about the lady that’s crying in the next room with her friend, the one who is raising her crinkly brown napkin to the corners of her eyes to dab and sniff. I can see her because of the french doors and their glass panes, ten of them. I wonder why she’s crying but I’m not going to listen. I could take off my headphones and listen, but I want to honor her story, her sense that it’s hers and only shared with a friend, in their own space, in the coffee shop they share with me. A place that feels very safe. And I wonder why so few people actually check on crying strangers when they’re not with a friend, and if they do, is it because they really care or because they’re curious […]
I think back on it. Back before we moved, nearly eight months ago already. I think back on the difference and I compare for a while. I feel sick to my stomach for a while. Then I feel grateful for a while. There was rarely anything that could interrupt my drinking routine. And if something came up, I almost always found a way. You’d be amazed at how there’s always a way when your will is that strong. But one night, after Miles had been sleeping for an hour or so and I was getting sufficiently buzzed, or trying to, anyway, he woke up with a cry. This rarely happened, and when Ryan and I went to him, he threw up and threw up and threw up. His sheets and pillow, his floor, his little blankie, everything covered in vomit. I sprang to action and forgot my wine. I held him and cleaned […]
{This post is sprinkled with photos of women who are The Real Deal. Just so you know. Links to them are at the end of the post.} All around the bloggiverse, posts are being written about BlogHer ’10. Posts that are filled with excitement and joy and fear and disappointment. Posts that are filled with feelings. loads of feelings. If I’m being honest, I’m hesitant to raise and add my voice to this current choir. Maybe because I’m afraid it won’t be heard and I want to believe it matters. Or maybe because I know many of my readers aren’t bloggers so blogging about a blogging conference and all of its strange nuances would, for them, be too foreign to understand. I don’t know. I guess I’m posting this because what I have to say is universal, and maybe it’ll shed some light on what is currently a mostly unknown subculture of good […]
There is a lull, this settling in me at the same time as I float, all while striving.I don’t know how a lull that brings a settling and its opposite–this floating like transcending, can equal balance, but they do. Somehow they do. I’ve never understood math, anyway. Life is always both settling and transcending, floating while in a lull, pushing and pulling, sad and good. I don’t know what to make of it, this freedom in the balanced place between, the place where I stand, in the middle, believing the striving and the pain and the hope and joy are all acceptable at the same time. Today I’ll have the literal sense of floating, up there in a seat in the clouds with my nervous butterflies of insecurity and hope. And while I fly toward a new adventure, I will feel the pull down and back, to home. To my two small boys […]
Sometimes Mother Guilt is about more than the junk food our kids eat or how much TV they watch. I have a friend who has a boy who has something. There’s something wrong. My friend is looking at herself and asking questions. What could I have done differently? Maybe it’s because I did this? Maybe it’s because I didn’t do that? Was it the shots? Is it his diet? Maybe I shouldn’t have sent him to kindergarten yet….maybe all that stress triggered this, this new person he’s becoming…. His behavior is obviously changing, moving him higher on The Spectrum. And his mom sits terrified, waiting for what he’ll do next, and what the assessors will say after her firstborn boy is evaluated and scrutinized and labeled. She is exhausted with three kids, listening to his high-pitched screeching sounds all day every day after very little sleep. This is new, he didn’t make this […]
Every once and a while the thought passes through my mind that I should get started on painting the kitchen. We still have much to do in updating our not-so-new-to-us-anymore house, and we’re still trying to take it one room at a time. Anyway, I don’t ever start painting, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. First of all, I actually quite hate painting, it’s far too mind-numbing for me. I abhor endless repetitive sameness, unless we’re talking about a daily routine that makes me feel safe, but then again, that gets old, too. Hellooooo ADD brain! What was I saying? Okay, so. Painting. You see, the thing is, I can’t get started. I know I won’t get started unless I ask Ryan to get started for me. And then I have to get out of the way because he’s coming up and down the stairs and looking for all the right things […]
How can something be so meaningless and so meaningful at the same time? facebook.youtube.flickr.whrrl.blogging.twitter.linkedin… Neither good nor bad in their entirety, but always both good and bad.My life is here, in flesh and blood, poured out in cups of juice and sealed over with Snoopy band-aids. I am here in whispered prayers and meaningful conversation, many of my words are never put to paper or blog. I am across the table from a friend of nearly twenty years, watching the way her long brown hair still falls around her face the same way it did when she was 19. We are using the same knife to spin cream through our coffee, and we are pouring out words and laughter that is left unblogged. I am on the phone with my Aunt and then a friend and then another friend, and then off with my boys to meet my parents for dinner. I am […]
There’s someone in my life that I love dearly, but very often, we don’t see eye to eye. More like toe to forehead. We’re both stubborn and sensitive, so this can be…interesting. (No, it’s not the Ryan. My dear husband and I see eye to eye on most things. Or at least nose to chin, or something close together like that.) The thing about this other person is that I honestly really like him, even though we want to kick each other in the teeth over our opposite opinions sometimes. I’ve heard he thinks that I don’t like him. But I do. I’ve always felt a kinship to him, seen the beauty of his heart, and have never, no matter what, been unable to forgive him. He’s good, and I respect him and love to laugh with him. That’s the truth. Because of sobriety, and the way it sheds light on what needs […]
I need willpower. I’m hungry and thirsty and looking for a place to sleep. I know what I need. I can rise up in the morning and tell myself, today I will do the right things, and then I believe I will reap the rewards of self-discipline and self-control. My intentions are so good that I believe I’ll do it all (and more) and then maybe I’ll feel more peaceful. As if everything works like checks and balances and tit for tat and punishment and reward. Do ‘A’ – Get ‘B’ I need to believe in grace because I can’t believe A gets B because so often I get a really good B without finishing my A, without following through or doing my good-intended right thing. Grace isn’t fair in the best possible way. Grace does not fit in a box, but it remains in all things even though it blows my mind […]
A good friend called recently and told me that she woke up one morning with characters having a conversation in her head. (No, she’s not hallucinating…she’s imagining. Which is totally different. Kind of.) She said that a story just up and started to unfold, right there, without her trying to conjure it up, and that these characters continue their own story every day all on their own. She simply writes down what they’re doing and saying after she listens in on them. Back when we had this conversation, my friend had written over 250 pages. In 3 weeks. Dude. She had no dream or intention of writing a book. It just kinda happened to her, and now she’s got the bug and she just can’t stop thinking about her book and she can’t stop writing. Uh yeah, I’m totally jealous. I’m not gonna lie. I do want to write a book. I’ve wanted […]
It’s been nearly five months since we moved. Five months. This has been the very most surreal five months of my life, I’m pretty sure. I stopped drinking not long after we came here so everything was literally and figuratively new for me, for us. Today, when Ryan finished building a fence for our backyard, I thought about it all, again. The fence means that our boys can run in and out without so much worry and checking. And it also meant so many other analogous things, and I really liked that it also means that our dog can finally be free of this… In our previous fenced backyard, our Tia Maria dog had free reign within the parameters of the fence. She was just fine with that. It was as if she knew the fence was there to protect her, to keep her home. Every once and a while she would get […]
