Read this while I weep

Your Mother

My mother puts me
in her warm hands
and I smile.
I love her
more than the world.

She is the one
with the warm smile
always on her face.

She is the one
to smile deeply
until you
smile deeply too.

I hug her
and she hugs me back.
I feel as if
there was magic
in the air,
and there is;
it is the magic
of love.


Sophia wrote this for me last night while I ranted about my girls' messy messy room. Need I say more?

One little Voice

It's been one week and already I'm finding this 30 posts in 30 days idea dragging a bit. I guess I deserve a little grace considering I'm actually doing double duty...60 posts in 30 days between the two blogs. I'm one of the countless minuscule voices in the blogosphere...nevertheless, a voice. Every voice counts, even if heard by few.

Letting it go....

Most Sunday afternoons I enjoy a few uninterrupted hours of artist time, sitting in a local coffee shop with a latte and my laptop or at the park across the way writing in a favorite quiet place. After two refreshing hours yesterday I was prepared to come home and write a blog about impermanence and detachment from my creative work...but only out of necessity. Sudden horror popped onto my screen as I was organizing some files from two book projects I'm working on. The message said something about a system crash and then everything locked up. Calmly rebooting my computer, I reopened my SD card files to find all except the one I was trying to delete to be gone, gone, gone. I slumped in my seat, cheeks flushed, tears welling up.

My first thought was rush home to Luke (computer tech hero on more than one occasion of my technical blunder) and wail out the proportion of my loss. Then, deep breath and self pep talk: "Get a hold of yourself, Ruth. Writing is a process. What you lose in content you have gained in personal growth. It's okay. Let go." I sat for a moment and pondered the inward journey and evolution all those vanished words walked me through. I felt them inside me, still transforming me, felt gratitude for the experience in the midst of loss. Then I went home and said, "Help!"
Yes, my hubby saved me again. I'm always amazed at how he can pull lost files out of thin air.

What a wonderful experience to be able to feel and let go. Of course, this was only my writing, not a loved one or limb. I can't say how I would respond in a different circumstance. But little by little we grow through the small experiences to reach a place of equanimity and surrender to the beauty of what is, embracing life as an opportunity to grow through it all.

August has been a month of craziness and exhaustion...and yet, I'm at a blank right now. The kids start school tomorrow so I'm hoping to catch a break, start getting to sleep earlier, rising earlier. We all need some structure in our lives.

Does the end of summer feel this way for everyone? Fall is such a welcome season, a cool breeze, some fresh air...just the thought of it is invigorating. Spring and Fall seem to bring us alive again, offer relief from the extremes of Winter and Summer...a brief interlude of balance.

What I need is a corner....a new view, a fresh perspective, a coming home. Yes. Little by little, excitement for the days ahead creeps in. It's the same weariness I feel at the end of the cold, dark months. Prospects of Spring breathe new life...offer a burst of something new. A corner...a corner home.

Have you ever driven over a hilltop and watched the horizon display the welcome view of home? I have. Some things change over time, but the feeling doesn't. When I moved a thousand miles from my home town, I learned that it really is true...there's no place like home, that place where your heart is at ease. Each place that we make a life has it's own memories, it's own feel. There's no place I'm more comfortable than at home. But now, when we make the trek back to the little town I grew up in, when we come over the hill and see the familiar places of my youth, something happens. Memories and feelings come flooding back. People, places...these are reminders of who I am, where I come from. I must admit, though, when we pull into our driveway at our own house after a very long drive back, the relief and comfort is overwhelming...it's good to be home.

But the corner home I'm looking for now is the one that leads inward, the one that reminds me of my first home...the place I long for most.

Those Beautiful Curly Blonde Locks...

Yesterday morning I walked into the bathroom upstairs and noticed a few locks of beautiful curly blonde hair. For a moment I was puzzled, then slowly panic set in as I realized what little head the tufts had fallen from. In a daze, I found myself in the girls room surrounded by more angel hair. Sarah is my three-year-old. Everywhere we go people ooh and ahh over her sweet blonde curls. Admittedly, I have a hard time taking my eyes off those darling ringlets, myself.

I pulled her into my arms from a sound sleep and saw a first glimpse of the damage done. Yes, it was true, she had cut her hair quietly before going to sleep, not knowing the repercussions of her actions. In tears, I said, "Sarah, what did you do to your beautiful curls?" Still half asleep, her face crinkled up and tears swelled. Of course, I went through the stages of bewildered, sad, then angry....lastly humbled. Hair grows back, but heart's are easily broken...remorse was deep and real for her and for me.

Sarah now sports a darling vintage 80's hairstlye perfect for warm summer weather. It will take a while to get used to and I've vowed to put her in summer dresses and girly colors all summer while her hair grows out, but I have to admit...it suits her personality.
This is Sarah with her best friend, Bella...doesn't she look like she just stepped out of an 80's McCall's magazine?

Germinating

Spring has pulled me outside. It has lulled me away from my books, my paper and even my computer...yes. I don't regret it, but last night I was beginning to feel a little sensory overload...too much noice, too much touch, too much busy....too little shhhh, too little deep breathes, too little deep thought and free writing. When I get too busy I tend to neglect the little shoots pushing through the soil like this year's new peonies...reminding me they were there under the surface the whole time. I was too busy enjoying the new digging, the new planting...the anticipation of new things. Then the old pushed through. I would have initially compared this old stuff to weeds needing to be pulled...because we all have some of that in our lives. But after a moment's reflection I quickly, sharply realized that these underlying feelings that keep resurfacing, in spite of the pain they cause me, in spite of my first inclination to pull them like invading weeds, with patience and quiet inner work will bring a beautiful, fragrant blossom to my life. I will let my heart expand and love big...and love truly. I will learn to be truly here for my dear ones. I will open fully and vibrant like the peonies I now anticipate with joy in my garden. I will embrace that which must grow. This is my life, my moment is now....and now...and now...."dwelling in this moment, it is a wonderful moment"....it is the only moment.

Six hours is a long time...

Six Hours....that's how long I have to wait to see my boy after walking him to school in the morning. Some days I feel it more than others. I do have to admit, however, that the house is a bit more quiet during the day with just the girls around. A few days before school started I asked the big guy how he felt about starting school and being gone all day and this is what he said: " I have two different feelings about it. "First, I think I'm going to have a lot of fun. And second, I feel like I'm going to really miss you while I'm at school so long, " his eyes sort of tearing up. I told him that I felt exactly the same way.
Today we stopped and talked to Mrs. Krantz, his kindergarten teacher. She asked him how first grade was going and then said that she has been hearing a lot of good things about him from his new teacher, Mrs. Mckeon. My big guys response, "Awww shucks." lol.

Now you know why I miss him so much.

Something Missing?

My children have been sick, I have been sick and my husband has been working a lot trying to get an entire school district's computer systems prepared for a new year of learning. My whole house is tired. I can see it sagging, drooping, ready for a nap. But first, the dishes, the laundry, the crying little one...oh, she's really hot. Where is the Motrin?

So, here I am at 11:59 p.m. sitting at the computer writing out a post just to say, I am really weak on my own. I admit it. I am weak. I need this: "grace." Though they are miserable, we all need times like this to remind us of our frailty and the strength of a God who knows we are weak. I don't know everything about God. In fact, to be honest, I have a lot of questions. But I do know this: I need to know my Creator. My spirit yearns for my Maker, the living God.

Pardon my pause...

...to ponder, to reflect, to watch, to play, to find hope and strength and peace renewed.

If you've traveled a lonely path...

Let me reveal a small glimpse of our family's journey in the last few years:

Unsettled, confused, shaken
this is the overgrown road we've taken.
No clear path is set before
just a thick carpet of forest floor.
And this has been my only rest--
knowing that Your way is best.

One of my love-affairs with the written word...poetry. One of poetry's most intriguing aspects is how well it is lent to vagueness. Can you not read some poems and feel that you have been there in your own path? Though really you have little idea what experience has birthed these sentiments in the author, you know what has birthed at times the same in you. That is the power of poetry. That is the power of the common plight of each beating heart...a search for calm, and a place of peace. Never alone...