Short and Sweet

I just spent less than 24 hours in Seattle.  Sometimes that is all that is required to shift your focus a little.  I keep wishing that as humans we had a reset button, a way to reprogram the mind so to speak, when we get into unproductive ruts of thoughts.  No magic button to push unfortunately.  Fortunately, sometimes when things get a little off kilter, they manage to reset themselves, kind of like magic, but not quite.
I didn't leave home feeling particularly off or out of sorts yesterday, at least nothing I noticed.  What I did notice today, as I headed back home, is that I felt fresh, renewed, ready to greet whatever awaited me.  It wasn't that anything extraordinary happened, I just had a little time to myself...the quiet in the car with no one demanding anything of me, an evening at a fundraiser talking with an old co-worker and his partner, interesting, passionate people, and feeling transported 180 degrees away from my normal days, late night ice cream and easy conversation about life with a dear friend...it really doesn't take much.
I had intended  to go shopping while in Seattle, buy a dress for my sister in law's wedding, take in a yoga class.  When I woke up this morning, none of that seemed all that interesting at the moment.  Instead, I wandered up to a neighborhood coffee shop, got a really good mocha (why do they always taste so much better from Seattle coffee houses?), the sun was shining, blue sky overhead and the day felt glorious.  I got in my car and headed toward the freeway.  I felt full.  I watched a mother deliver her preschooler to school and felt my eyes brimming with tears.  It wasn't so much that I felt longing for my kids, I just felt connected to the universe, could see myself in her.  Heading over the pass, I saw a deer trying to run across the highway.  Oncoming traffic slowed, a trucker honked and the deer ran back to safety...again tears, grateful for when they world spares life, when we conspire together to keep someone or something in danger safe.  (Sounds like I've been crying a lot with these last two posts, doesn't it?)  I sang my little heart out as I drove home, listened to music that lifts me up, speaks to my soul and simply felt grateful for the ability to get away, even for a short and sweet adventure on my own.  Feels good to be alive.

Tiny miracles

It's been awhile.  I have just been in and out of one of those phases where I feel like I have nothing worth sharing.  Inner battles, struggles, not being the best version of myself very often...thank goodness for the impermanence of it all, that we pass through those phases, sometimes quicker than others, but things always, always change, and life has a way of bringing us what we need so that we can find our self again.
In the last 24 hours, I have been moved by the incredible capacity we have for love as parents.  Our children are the deepest source of joy and happiness and also of pain.  Because we love so deeply, when our kids suffer, we suffer, we feel their pain, we grieve for their losses.  It's an amazing part of being a parent that no one really prepares you for, nor could they.  It's a love so rich, I don't have words to adequately describe it.
Yesterday afternoon, I listened to a couple share the story of their 21 year old son's suicide.  Raw, painful truth about human nature, about a young man in a deep, dark, depression.  They spoke about the importance of paying attention, noticing when things aren't right and doing something about it.  As I listened to them speak, I couldn't help but cry.  I was so moved by their courage to share their story, obviously in hopes that they are honoring the life their son had, and preventing such a tragedy from happening to someone else.  Their pain is visible.  The wounds, 5 years later, far from scabbed over.  I don't imagine that losing a child is a pain you ever "get over".  I imagine it to be one that rests in your spirit for a lifetime.  And yet, despite their pain, their heartache, they carry on.  They continue moving forward, trying to make something from a deep hole in their hearts that may never heal.
This morning, I witnessed the other side of this coin - a new mother and her week old son.  This tiny little being, almost 3 1/2 lbs, full of promise and hope for the future.  I found myself in tears, again, watching the look on my friend's face as she watched him, lying in the incubator, breathing with the help of a machine.  I felt like I could almost see the love spilling out of her heart on to him, could feel the heartache of her not being able to hold him.  I could only think about how heart wrenching it would be to leave the hospital without your new baby, how long those weeks must be while she waits for him to be strong enough to go home.  I don't know what I expected when I went to the hospital, but I was undeniably moved by this tiny little miracle, a precious life being held in the hearts of many as he finds his way into this world.
There is so much in each day we take for granted.  We sometimes need those tearful reminders to slow down, take life in to the fullest, to really look at those we love, appreciate our health, to reach out in places where we can be of service, and to lift up another when the load feels too heavy.

My Pinball Wizard

On my morning walk today, I had a conversation about play time, the importance of taking time as a family to play, to enjoy each other, away from all the household duties, the laundry, the home improvement projects, the bills, etc.  We get so lost in our routines, that we often stop really seeing one another, or forget what breathes life into our relationship.
I love that even after being married for almost 10 years, when I take the time to really notice, to see my husband, he still takes my breath away, still stops me in my tracks, still fills my heart to the brim with love for him, with gratitude that he is my partner in life.  We went to the park this weekend, played Frisbee with friends, I rode Willis' scooter around the park, the kids practiced riding their bikes, we soaked up a little sunshine. 
Sean had brought Willis' rocket to launch.  It's one of those kind that you can launch and relaunch, where the kids can push the button that send the thing up 1000 ft into the sky (that may be an exaggeration, I'm not the best with distance).  He had the girls invite 3 little boys, who were playing basketball at the park, over to launch the rocket with us. He let each one have a turn.  They ranged in age from 5 - 9.  They were stoked to participate.  Sean was so kind to them, made sure each one had a chance to press the launch button at least once.  As my friend described it with her arms wide open, "Sean just brings you in, folds you into his community."  It's one of my favorite qualities of his, he has a way of making people feel welcome, unarmed.  He's a gentle soul, great with kids, and he knows how to have fun, too.
Fast forward to Saturday night and I am watching him, dressed in some crazy rocker get-up, sporting a mullet and headband (or sweatband?) singing Karaoke, The Who's "Pinball Wizard", with gusto.  My heart felt big and I was smiling from ear to ear.  I love this man.  I laughed with him, danced with him, felt light and happy to call him mine.

Pausing

Sometimes we give good advice that we don't listen to ourselves.  I have a friend that one time I told to just take a breather, to pause, when she was experiencing too much stress and was overcome with anxiety.  She reminds me of this periodically when she is stressed, "I should listen to your advice, just pause." (I actually don't remember saying this to her, but it is something I talk about in yoga.)  We are so often human doings, we forget we are human beings.  We can experience the being part more if we just take a moment to pause every now and then. 
For some reason, the last few days, I have been present in this pause.  It's almost magical when it happens....today, as I witnessed a friend, who felt like her life was unravelling, as I sat with Elsie on the couch, a bowl of goldfish/cheerios/raisins (her current trail of mix) in our lap, reading her a story I used to read to Ruby.  Yesterday, as I listened to a friend share of a frightening experience, tears running down my cheeks, feeling full of compassion and a desire to comfort.  We all have these simple moments in life, where we can get caught up in the doing of what is taking place, our energy gets wrapped up in another's,  or we can pause and soak in what beauty these moments have to offer.  Even in the midst of the suffering we all experience, we all create for ourselves in big and small ways, there is beauty, there is joy, there is something to be grateful for.
I've been on a search for more time for myself, for more breathing room.  I love my children dearly, yet a piece of me wants some independence again.  I want of be able to leave spontaneously, to spend hours unplanned, uncommitted to anything.  The other half of me is thankful every darn day, that I have the privilege of raising these three amazing little beings, that I get to be home with them most of the time, that I get to be at drop offs and pick ups for school, that they don't spend one more minute than necessary in child care.  There is a balance here, that I am seeking to find.  A place where I get time to myself, time to pursue things that make me feel full, that give me the energy to give back to my children.  There is a reason they tell you when flying to put your oxygen mask on first.  You can't help someone else if you can't breathe yourself.  Duh!
It's a journey, isn't it?  There is not one great day when we wake up with the stars aligned and say....aha!  I have arrived.  We might do that, actually, and then life happens and we say...oh boy, I guess I didn't have it all figured out, did I?
So, we take it day by day, juggling what we do, finding those sweet moments of pause, in between the doing, so that we can feel our way back when we stray from simply being.

Winds of Change

The wind chimes dance in sound
As dry leaves race in tireless circles across the pavement
A warm patch of sunshine rests softly on my cheek
Hinting of warmer days yet to come.
I wait patiently for this season to pass,
For signs of change,
Signs of nature coming back to life.
Shades of winter white and dull gray cloud the horizon
What lies beyond, I cannot see.
And so, I sit
Soaking up what the moment has to offer,
Bathed in light and the music of possibility.

A stitch in time

Sometimes it IS all about the little things.  I just finished sewing Ruby's ballet slippers, I'll save you the details, or not.  They are new and the straps that hold her little feet in aren't attached when you buy them, so either you sew them in or I guess their feet fall out?  I don't really get why they come that way, but as I finished stitching the last strap, I felt such a sense of satisfaction.  I also sewed (is that a word?  looks funny) a couple of ice pack covers on Sunday and that too felt quite satisfying.  Maybe because my husband has been asking me to do make them for a couple of months and when I finally did, it took all of about 5 minutes to make 3 of them.  We probably spent more time talking about when I was going to finally get around to doing this than it actually took for me to do it.  Our kids like to have ice packs on their pillows at night, not sure why they do this in the middle of winter, but they do, and now we don't have to wrap them up in cloth napkins that they slide out of in the middle of the night. 
What's my point?  Well, my point is...something about sewing makes me pause, makes me focus on just what I am doing.  I am not a great sewer (is that a word?  looks like where our waste water goes).  I have to stay completely immersed in what I am doing or else things go awry.  I mostly only sew straight lines, I only do 2 stitches, straight and zig-zag and anything that requires a pattern is probably outside my repertoire, really.  So, it isn't that I create some great work of art or fashion when I sew, I think it is just the simplicity of creating something from nothing, okay not nothing, but from nothing particularly useful, to something that has a function. 
I don't have any greater context to put this in, I am probably not going to start sewing more or anything, its just that sometimes what brings us joy is simply taking time to pause, notice, to be completely focused on one thing and not distracted in our heads or hearts, to just be with what or whomever we are with, not someplace else, not stuck in the past or worrying about the present.  Taking life as it comes,one stitch at a time, feels really good.

Teaching Peace

Friday night, as we sat together as a family eating dinner, talking about our days, Ruby and Willis launched in to a discussion about Martin Luther King, Jr, or as Willis calls him Dr. Markin Luther.  He says it like he has a mouth full of marbles.  Both of them had lessons at school about who Dr. King was, about his experiences and why we celebrate his life.  Ruby was part of an assembly at school.  She memorized a little blurb about him, something like "L is for laws, being equal for all.  He stood for civil rights..." I forget the rest.  She spent the week memorizing it, trying to get the word civil ingrained her memory.  It went from cill, to cibil, to civil.  I think she finally did get it.  As she talked about the assembly, she said, "Did you know that there was this lady, Rosa Parks, who got arrested for sitting down on the bus?  They wouldn't let her sit in the front and that is NOT fair.  She knew it wasn't right, so she just sat down in front anyways."  She told more of the story, said she knew another word for being killed, assassinated.  Not a word I necessarily want my 1st grader using, but in the context she spoke of, I felt proud that she understood what it meant.  She described how people were treated different "just because they have different colored skin, isn't that wrong?"  She told us how all the people said, fine, we won't use your buses then.  We don't need them, we can walk or ride bikes...peaceful protest.
Willis on the other hand, true to form, told his story of Dr. Markin Luther.  He said that police shot people with bee-bees, that police shot sombody's eye out.  Lovely, no?  It fascinates me what he took away from the story, which I am sure was age appropriate, at that age they just grab on to certain pieces, and Willis' was of course the part involving shooting.  He also said that a lady with black hair got in trouble for being on the bus and then said to my mom that she kind of has black hair, but not really black.   I'd love to sit in that little mind of his for a moment and know how his little wheels are spinning.
Teaching children about peace and equality is not always an easy conversation to have, parts of it are difficult to explain.  When Ruby asks me "Why would people do that?" wondering about people who are mean or violent towards another, why wouldn't people let them sit where they wanted on the bus...I don't always have the answers or know how to articulate them in a way she can understand.  I'm thankful for her little peaceful heart that knows what is fair and what isn't, that she knows it isn't always easy to stand up for what's right, that it takes being brave and it might be scary, but it's the right thing to do. 
My kids will grow up in a country that I think is more fair and just than the one Dr. King lived in, and one of the reasons why it's more fair is, of course, because of people like him who were brave and wise and stood for peace.  We still have a long way to go.  I know that the best way to teach peace is by example and I hope in little and big ways, my children, too, will march on to be catalysts for peace.