43 via iphone

not so graceful, with not much sense

I don't think my girls would ever believe that I was a dancer.  Imagine their surprise that their mother was not only a ballerina en pointe, but also Highland danced around swords and once did a back flip on a balance beam.  For real, no lie.  Okay, the swords weren't real.

Most days here I am walking into the kitchen island, almost falling down the stairs, tripping over my own feet and dropping just about everything in sight.  Call it getting older, call it multi-tasking, call and try to find out where my gracefulness went.

Last night I tucked both girls into bed (K is now residing full time in her new loft bed in her room, a fact I am both celebrating and mourning).  I dressed for bed, and decided to swish a bit of coconut oil as I normally do to try to keep my gums healthy while I avoid the dentist.  Usually I do this in the morning, but time hasn't been working with me and normally I swish for about twenty minutes just enough time to read some of my book in bed (aren't you glad I am telling this story)?  Wait, it gets better.

Just as I am about to climb into bed, my mouth full of swishing coconut oil, I spy a gigantic beetle bug on the top of my wall.  I knew this particuliar wee creature had crawled out of a file cabinet I moved over the weekend and couldn't find.  Now I had him.  Almost.....he was up really high.

Now we don't kill insects in this house.  We are a pacifist house.  An all creatures are created equal house.  We do kill fruit flies and ticks and mosquitos, but everything else gets shooed out the door. So I needed a chair to grab the beetle bug in a cup to gently guide out of the house.  So I went down the stairs to grab the kitchen chair.  K being her normal "I must know everything that is going on" self, yelled from her loft bed nest, "What are you doing"? To which I replied, mouth full of oil "I'mgoingtogetachairthereisabigbuginmyroom".

All well and good, had I not knocked over the entire stack of miscellaneous "stuff" we had piled in the hallway when we cleaned out our rooms this past weekend.  Bang, bam, bam, tumble, tumble, crash.  A multitude of discarded items plunging down the stairs in the dark as I made my way past with the chair.

K again, "What is happening"?  Dear one, please don't get out of your loft bed to check on me.

So I yelled with my mouth closed, because you know, God forbid I should spit out the oil. "IKNOCKEDTHESTUFFINTHEHALLWAYDOWNTHESTAIRSWITHTHECHAIR".  To which she replied, "WHAT?"

I made my way to the bedroom, knocked the beetle bug in the cup.  Carried it downstairs, tossed it out the door, cleaned up all the miscellany on the stairs, went into K's room and (ask me why I still have all this goop in my mouth) opened my mouth halfway and said "BUG.  MY ROOM.  CHAIR.  STAIRS" before managing to have all the coconut oil fly out of my mouth and into my hands.

Off I go to the bathroom, dump the oil in the trash, wash my face and hands.  Come out to find Em now in the hallway wondering what's going on and make my way to K's room and tell her as calmly as I'm not feeling what happened.

So here are a few questions:

A.  Why didn't I just wait until I was done swishing to remove the bug?
B.  Why didn't I just spit the oil out in the first place instead of holding it in that whole time?
C.  Why did I feel the need to explain myself to my daughter who was obviously just being nosy and not at all helpful?
D.  Where in the heck did my grace and my common sense go?

Needless to say, I was ready for bed and didn't even bother with my book.

discerning-the cloister walk

I've put down everything to read this book and honestly I cannot believe I haven't read it before.  I think that it has been buried in my Amazon wish list waiting for the time to be right.  In this year of discernment for me, of course, it is exactly the right time.

I've pretty much fallen in love with every spiritual group and their words I have read so far.  It doesn't seem to matter which rule of life they follow.  When they are following their hearts and that still quiet voice what comes forth is magic.  Having read countless books by Quaker authors, recently my reading has turned to the Catholics through reading the stories of the Saints and the works of Jesuit Father James Martin.  

Kathleen Norris was not Catholic during her stay at Saint John's Abbey, but goodness her poetic musings have me falling in love with the Benedictines as well.  I feel myself drawn more and more to spending some time in retreat this year among a contemplative group.  There is something about the simplicity and the schedule that appeals to me.  Perhaps more than anything it's the appeal of a time of silence away from the distractions of current life that I am yearning for.

I've never been able to pinpoint exactly what faith road to follow.  I've always been able to find some offense in doctrine somewhere, but I have been drawn more and more to these contemplative communities.  People scoff at my love and aspirations of being a nun, and truly I don't feel that is my course, but there is something to being a woman religious, an oblate, or simply a spiritual woman of service.   No matter what calling I end up following, I do know that when I picture my future, I see a quiet simple life full of prayer, contemplation and the giving of much kindness.  I don't think it gets any simpler than that.

I am still discerning.  The beautiful words of Brother Lawrence, James Martin and now Kathleen Norris have been a welcome addition on my journey this year.

bird watching

I've been obsessively watching the robins.  Not the ones in my front yard.  The ones that are thankful today that most of the snow has melted.  No, I've been watching the robin family that Wildlife Gadgetman is live streaming from Suffolk.  I watched the egg laying, watched the egg sitting, watched the egg hatching, and am now watching these tiny little things grow feathers and appetites.

Ah, the wonders of technology.

I'm watching the birds in my own yard as well.  Over these last few brutal winter weeks, we have spent about a third of our grocery bill on birdseed.  I've discovered that tossing some seed  under the Spirea bush gives the smaller birds a quiet place to feed when the red-wings stop by gobbling.  My chickadee is there in the trees in the morning calling.  I never see it, but I hear it's calls. I know it and it makes me smile first thing on grumpy mornings.

I am still waiting to see if we will see any nesting going on in our houses here.  I hope so.  It's hard because we have those outside cats wandering around.  Sometimes it's hard to love both cats and birds.

I'm amazed watching these birds nest though.  The natural process, knowing exactly what to do, focusing all their energy on those young ones. Those mama birds aren't avoiding their kids with cell phones, Facebook and television.  They are sitting and feeding, sitting and feeding.  Then their littles will fly away.  In basically no time at all.

I keep trying to keep my eyes open for the amazing in the everyday.  I would have to say the birds provide a daily dose.

waking to darkness

Today was our first Monday after the time change, a process I can't stand because it throws us all off schedule.  More than that I hate waking in darkness.  Many morning people are okay with this, but to me it doesn't feel right to rise before the sun, it is hard enough to pry myself from my warm cocoon on a cold winter morning.

We have survived though, greeting the moon as we stepped out the door, the girls to school and I to walk the dog and tend the birds.  By now, the sun has risen and it is time to get about my day.  Time marches on no matter how we measure it.

I took an unanticipated break from the blog for a little while.  It wasn't feeling right.  Probably because I was using a business model rather than a journal model.  I found myself thinking of things to write throughout the day that didn't fit my model, so I am scrapping it.  I've also turned off comments, because I don't want anyone to feel the obligation to comment or want to feel the obligation to return the comment.  If you feel you want to communicate about something I have written you may always email me at underthebigbluesky@gmail.com, or comment on the Facebook page where I will be linking both my blog and Instagram posts.

at the mall

We went to the mall yesterday.  To the mall....

Don't get me started.  As I said yesterday the mall is the one place you can see everything that is wrong with the world in one place.  I don't know what was worse the girls standing in clumps together but all separately listening to ipods or looking down at phones, the woman who walked past a display and knocked down about six necklaces with her bags and when her daughter said "Mom" the mother replied, "Just leave it" and walked on, or the shopkeepers who walked around products strewn all over the floor,  the Starbucks cup left in the middle of a shelf display of children's clothes in Target or the lady in Forever XXI who when the lady behind the counter called her over asked her to throw away her two drink cups.  The saving grace was the book store which we saved until last.  Ahhh, the peace of a room full of books.  The girls were annoyed by a bunch of boys their age who were getting a kick out of raucously riding up and down the escalators, but I managed to lose myself in the religion and poetry sections while the girls browsed their own section.  The bookstore was our biggest prize, with my getting a book I had been wanting and this adorable copy of Little Women, the girls talked me into buying for myself (you never get anything for you).  Em came out with a collection of Sherlock Holmes and K brought home three books she had loved.  Normally we get our books at the library and save buying books for the ones we really want to hold onto, so we did allow ourselves a little indulgence.

In the end, we didn't spend too much.  Em got a few buttons for her knapsack, a red hair bow, some brush markers and the Sherlock Holmes book.  K got some hairbands, earrings and her books and I got a couple of books and a birthday card and gift for my sister.

It was nice to get out.  We've had too many days sheltered inside from the cold.  The temperature climbed up to 58 degrees and so brightened our spirits past the annoyances of the "mall people".  

The girls are spending their own money which means that I don't get annoyed at the things they buy and they get to decide what is really worth spending their hard earned money on.

We survived.  The best part was that my girls were annoyed by all these uncaring and disrespectful people as well, so at least I know I am training them up right.



 

the morning hour

Morning.  My time.  The girls are on their way to school.  So grateful that as they have grown older I have been gifted this hour between when they and I leave.  So much happens in this hour.  I breathe for one.  Getting two girls out of bed, dressed, breakfast in them and out the door can be irritating on the best days like World War III on the worst.

But here sits this hour.  I can browse online, wash dishes, throw in a load of laundry, brew a batch of tea, listen to some classical music and write this.  This is a gift this hour to someone like me who works best in small batches.  I remember learning about "transition" time for wee ones when my girls were young.  How you give them that little warning/window before you move onto something else.  I find as an adult I need that even more.

So here is to those little bits of time we find.  The ones that mean the most.  Small blessings.

The blessing of clean dishes in the sink.