Moment

I remember it clearly,

Looking across at you as you drove me to the airport.

Your eyes on the road,

curls sheltered beneath

the yarn of your cap

at first light

in the chill.

The sense

that you were a

real man.

The kind I could

(and should)

give my heart to.

One who would give

everything

without thought of

keeping any

for himself.

Lessons learned in

brokenness

shaped the set

of your shoulders.

You withstood.

You found a voice to give praise

from the ashes

(of an aftermath)

I shared the experience of

thousands of miles-

and years away-

from knowing you.

We lost our futures before we knew

our future

was to be found

in each other.

But, looking at you-

absorbing you-

It was plain to me

that you were he.

The years have proven the truth I felt

inside of that moment-

of what you're made of,

who you are.

Whose you are.

And that is all that matters now.

We All Fall Apart

We all fall apart sometime. Or rather, the reality of it strikes us. Sometimes it's a myriad of tiny reality pin pricks and other times, it's a blow.

My friend posted this photo to Facebook last night.  That's me on the left.

Insert:  CRINGE, SWEAR, & GRIMACE

I've been trying to un-see it for the hours that have passed since. It was taken the morning after a super fun triple family camp out.  

I don't always look angry, bloated, and exhausted. I usually don't wear my pajama shorts with the top half of my outfit, either. But, that's how things were when I got called outside for a group photo with a couple of ladies (and a baby) whom I absolutely adore.

Neither do I consider myself a particularly vain person, although I'm at least moderately vain-I think most women (and men) are to some extent. So, my inner reaction surprised me with its intensity.

I complain that Facebook is a place where people cultivate an online representation of their ideal self. Then, when a less than ideal version of myself is made public on Facebook, I'm thoroughly uncomfortable with it. Obviously, I'm as guilty as anyone else is of wanting to be seen only on my terms.

Seeing myself like this-it holds a mirror up to me that no ordinary mirror can hold up. I'm flawed. I'm a year away from 40 and I have to work harder and harder to keep things the way they've always been because I don't know what else to do. I feel like I can really, re-he-healllllly identify with Goldie and Meryl in Death Becomes Her.

Yes, I want to, need to, UN-SEE it.

What to do when the seams unravel? The outer seams, (wrinkles, bulges, gravity's pull) and the inner seams (anxiety, negative self-talk, fear)?

What brings the pieces together?  What silences the negativity and fear?   What reveals the beauty at the heart center?  

It's not a what, it's a whom...

Jesus.   It's that simple and that complicated. 

It's a daily, every hour, every minute, every second struggle to tune in to Him and tune out from the lies. Lies that say my value can be found in the most vulnerable and fleeting of places.

It's time for some Proverbs 31:30, my friends.

Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.

I pray-for peace-acceptance that this is the way of time. 

I pray for gratitude-much of the reason I lose sleep and feel trapped in another person's body is because I have 2 little human beings I'd never trade for a wrinkle-free complexion or bump-less silhouette. 

I pray for Love-His Love, for me-that I would allow myself to receive it, that I would love myself enough to release unrealistic expectations and be joyful.  JOYFUL, I tell you! 

I pray for freedom-freedom from the desire to prove something, the endless striving for what's out of reach, from finding self value from anywhere I ought not be seeking, and from any other ideas that bind me and prevent me from being near to Him.

Does that mean I quit taking care of myself? Of course it doesn't-being healthy makes life more...just, more! And, putting an effort into one's appearance is rewarding-but, I do this for my own reasons. 

I'm sure one day a much worse image of me will be made public. That's okay. 

It's much less attractive to be held down in chains.

example

tiny fingers
linger

just a blink

kitty dishes
on
chubby knuckles

will find themselves
in a sink

will find themselves
building, comforting

reaching

for what we show
is
worth the reach

If You Have

If you have children near-

and the air is soft with the possibility of rain,

the leaves are being lifted and twirled with the force of autumn's breath,

and ladybugs circle in busy preparation

...then,
the most exquisite way to blend these ingredients

is to get out a bubble wand

and take in the children as they go giddy
chasing bubbles in soft air,

surrounded by leaves orange, red, and gold,

ladybugs finding a spot on your sleeve for rest.

Take a Breath

Hold on mama,
Take a breath-

Search my eyes,
Into their depths-

Realize...
How soon I'll grow-
 
Then exhale
    and
Take it slow.

--Composed while nursing JuJu Bean

St. Francis, the Butterfly

Arriving home from the groceries just before lunch, I came up to the front door to see a monarch circling around the entry area to our home...I took it to be a beautiful blessing and decided to let that little encounter plan our lunch time.  Although it was very damp (misting) outside, I fixed us a quesadilla picnic and a few minutes later Ever and I were sitting outside munching.  Ever spent the greater part of half an hour studying a slug make its way down from mid-tree to the ground, completely in awe.

I stood quietly nearby, breathed many deep breaths, and unfocused my eyes so I could take in the soft gray atmosphere above lit up by pockets of amber beginning to poke out of the surrounding green...and then I began to see tiny water drops swirling through the air all around (which are invisible when the eye is focused).  I was still me, but another version of me...almost free of my physical self and yet, embraced by so much physical beauty that I felt as though I had been plucked out of almost reality and inserted into this luscious moment of pure life and energy literally emanating from every living thing around me.

Perhaps this is what St. Francis of Assisi experienced when he came to have such potent experiences with God through nature...it is a gift that I pray I would be a worthy steward of.  Thank you, lovely little Franciscan butterfly for catching my attention, shifting my day entirely, and bringing me into such a state of contented gratitude.

No, I'm not pregnant-just a planner...

Staring at an overturned laundry basket as I breathe deeply and consider what....to....write...

Thinking of my little one seated on it so sweetly waiting for me to hurry up and take her to the beach this morning. 

Am I ready for another even littler one?  Will I miss many of her very special moments if I have a newborn taking over my life again?

I see other moms with more than one child under the age of four, and many of them make it seem totally natural-they seem to embrace the ensuing whirlwind of personalities, needs, and laughter (and other expressions of the not so happy type).  I also remember being the second child...and then the middle child.  Often happy to be left alone, sometimes made to feel as an afterthought (by my very loving but very busy mama). 

I also think about all of the moments of fear and doubt seated in the fact that I had never had a child before during Ever's first year of life...how will that play out if I've done it already?  Maybe it won't be so hard...but, then factor in that there are two small (and one big brother here with us part time) and maybe it will be. 

I suppose I still have time to think on it.  I do think on this-whatever juncture we have found ourselves at during Ever's last 2+ years, I have used equal measures of planning and spontaneity tempered with pure instinct (and a good deal of divine intervention).  I appreciate advice (about 30% of the time), but ultimately I am her mama and I do know best without a doubt. 

I look to that when I wonder what to do with another child.  I will love, I will listen (God does need us to meet halfway), and my heart will grow even bigger than I could ever expect. 

(And that laundry basket is going to be used even more than it already is.)