Thursday, August 22, 2013

Naps, Writing and Remembering

I'm trying to get acclimated to my new school schedule. Instead of going to the gym at 7:30, I go at 6:30. This gets me home in time to wake the kids up at 8, take a shower while they're eating and dressing and then start school by 8:30. But man! I'm having a hard time adjusting.

Yesterday morning, the Davis fam came for breakfast. We skipped school for the day. We homeschool; we can do that. We had a great visit with them, as usual. They are really some of our favorite people. They're just starting their support raising journey. It's very daunting. I cannot imagine. Wow. If you're reading this, you should send them some money. Or start supporting them. I'm serious. You won't be sorry.

When they left, Tilly and I hung out for a while. I cleaned the kitchen, started my grocery list, then almost fell asleep sitting at the table. Chris suggested a nap, since we were driving to Oneonta to eat with our new friends, the Clarks.

I stumbled into bed, covered up and forced my mind to shush. Then Chris sat on the foot of the bed and played the guitar. He played me to sleep. Death Cab for Cutie's Follow You was playing when I finally drifted off. Can you imagine anything lovelier? I can't.

I slept for an hour and woke up with a scene from a new story fresh and vivid in my mind. I was a complete grump until I could get it written. I had to apologize to my family.

Sometimes writing makes my inner life difficult. I love it and the scenes, many times, just paint themselves on the front of my mind and will not be stored until a more convenient time. But store them I do. I cannot sit for hours and hours, whenever I feel the urge, and write. I have too many demands on my time.

But when I do get the chance, it is... magical. What is being written is not all that great, but the feeling of doing it, of imagining it, then twisting it, molding it, questioning it, THAT is magical. I just have to remember to hold all things loosely. To not let it get in the way of loving my children and husband, or laying down my life for the kingdom. It is a beautiful thing, but it is not a first thing.

Today I taught my children. I cleaned my kitchen. I cooked supper. I took another nap. I cleaned my room. I planned my menu for the next two weeks. I worked on lesson plans. I answered emails. And maybe, just maybe, I'll get to write. But someone's calling me, so it won't be right now...

Thursday, August 15, 2013


I've been by myself for two days. Well, mostly by myself. Maggie has been in and out. (I should clarify that "by myself" in this instance does not include Chris, although he has been sleeping.) This was not a planned aloneness like last week's school-planning-marathon. Nope, this was a people-like-my-kids-and-want-to-have-them-over kinda thing. I had no grand plans to accomplish great things. I was taken off guard actually. And I may have just squandered my time.

I'm taking myself off sugar with a primary focus on NO high fructose corn syrup. Needless to say, I'm a little sleepy.

My kids are home now. They've had showers and supper and they're in their rooms watching movies on their devices. I missed them when they were gone. John asked me a couple of weeks ago what I was going to do with myself when my kids were all grown up. If this week is any indication, I'll wander aimlessly around my house...

Saturday, August 03, 2013

Part of Marriage is...

Part of married life is reassurance. It's reassuring one another that it will all be okay in the end. The money will work out. The opportunities will show up. The hard work will one day be worth it. The kids will understand. The yard will eventually get cut. The dreams will either fade away or God will provide a way.

Part of married life is not taking it personally. It's not taking the other's insecurities as lack of faith in you. It's remembering that they really do love you as much as you love them. It's being patient when they need a little more of you right now. It's kissing them fifteen extra times just to stay connected.

Part of married life is being laid low. It's giving your dreams time to simmer while the other pursues their own. It's repeating yourself for the third time when you hate repetition. It's smiling and remembering how much they need you. It's patience.

Part of marriage is comforting each other when you both feel forgotten. It's letting your own faith be the kick-stand that keeps the other from falling over when their faith is weak. It's holding hands and pressing on.

My great grandmother told me that marriage is never 50/50, could never be. Marriage is when each person gives one hundred percent. Only then can marriage be beautiful. Part of marriage is giving when you don't want to, when you don't have it in you. It's holding tighter and fighting harder when you want to give up.

Marriage is whispering in the dead of night. It's hugs in the pantry. It's holding hands at the grocery store. It's pivotal conversations spoken through shower curtains while he's getting ready for work. It's reassurance that the kids know the really important things that we hope we've taught them. It's kisses that hold long enough to exchange a breath. It's optimism taken in turns.

Marriage is a marathon. It's a long, breath-stealing, muscle-burning race. It's being part of something more that yourself. It's sharing oneness with this other person who wants to be your favorite person, who is your favorite person.

Marriage is nothing like I thought it would be. It's much harder, much more interesting. What started out as an adrenaline rush has turned into a cathartic rhythm of life. It's continually morphing into this friendship that cannot be explained. There is no need for explanation. The only person who needs to understand is walking, sometimes limping, it with me.