After a rare full day of snow, we couldn’t stay inside.  Unfortunately, no sticky snow with which to get too creative, but there’s lots of lovely powder to play in!

Crepe myrtles galore.

Thank goodness no metal poles in sight!

"I wasn't just getting icicles off the roof." Yeah, right!

Amazing the difference from last weekend when she was sick in bed.

Our handsome Bodhi joining the fun.

Not one of mine, but a friend snowed in with us.

I didn't mean to hit her in the face with a snowball . . . her brother moved!

Yes, he's eating it.

His face matches what he told his dad the other day: "I don't like this planet!"

Yes, she's eating it, too.

There is something magical about the white blanket . . .

. . . and a silent stillness to be observed and respected, after spreading a little seed for those chirping and singing in the chilly air.

We had barely pulled into the bank drive-through when my daughter behind me started asking for a sucker in her croaky, congested voice.  I couldn’t help but smile because she sounded so cute — a survival of the species tactic.  Fortunately, my maternal sense kicked in.

“Suckers are full of sugar, and sugar is not good for you when you’re sick,” I told her.

“I’m not sick, Mom,” she said slowly, deliberately, downright emphatically.

I tried not to laugh out loud.  After I made my deposit, I gave her the little dum-dum.

“Of course you’re not, sweetheart,” I told her, and I decided to hope that at least for a little while she would stop coughing and make herself well by sheer virtue of will.

With her strong will, anything’s possible.

Have I written about faith before? (Sorry, I can’t help the sweet sarcasm!)  I know I have.  I know I’ve mentioned that faith becomes most apparent when we take the leap from security, routine, and stability and plunge into unchartered territory.  Often this happens when we act on our intuition, trying to follow our hearts, trying to live into what we perceive as our “call.”

Well, my friends, we’ve taken that plunge and have been free-flying for a few months now.  There are a few things we have learned thus far.

• If you thought you knew how you would react if you “failed,” prepare to be wrong. I expected to be bitter, angry, resentful if we spent all our savings and extended our credit to its outer limits.  Thankfully, for the sake of the family, I’m not.  Also, perception of failure is a tricky thing.  Our greatest success in this venture is probably our change of perspective, our new understandings.
• Expect most of the growth to be within. As mentioned above, most of the changes we have experience are that of understanding, perspective, appreciation and joy.  Our relationships deepened.  What makes our life most rich has become apparent.
• Attachments are attachments. Mainly I mean attachments to material things.  We get attached to having the biggest and best, fancy this and highest quality that.  We have to let go of some things, deciding what is best for us individually and as a whole — a whole family and a whole world.    We learn what we can live without, and we learn what is truly worth the effort for quality.  Mostly, we want a quality life; this doesn’t always mean we have a top-of-the-line hi-def t.v.  “Live simply that other may simply live” applies to us all.
• You never go back to where you were before. Even if our daily routine looks the same as it was six months ago, it’s not.  Even if my husband goes back to a “desk job” (in quotes because technically he’s been working at a desk in his “time off”), he’s going back with his new understandings, renewed or even new appreciation.  Once we’ve attained a new level of understanding, once we know something as true, we can’t un-know something.  In time, I’m sure this new level will open other doors for growth as we continue to learn more about the life we live.
• Don’t underestimate your time. Be realistic about your needs.  Keep track of the bills.  Know how much debt you’re willing to accumulate, how much money it takes to live.  We’ve not been very good about this, honestly.  The lessons above were learned in enough time that we could have returned to the work status of before, before a financial crisis hit.  Be aware of this.  Give yourself a cushion, and if not, be willing to face the consequences.
• Take responsibility. We choose our way individually.  If we don’t necessarily have control of our environment and what happens, we have the choice on how we respond.  As in my first point, I thought I would choose to be angry if this business venture didn’t succeed at the rate projected.  When it became apparent that deadlines and projections weren’t being met, I had a choice.  For my own benefit and for the benefit of those around me, I choose love.

These are just a few of the lessons we’ve learned as we’ve taken flight.  It’s been an experience, a defining moment in our lives.  I know that in this past year, I have been pulled, if not called, deeper into my true nature.  Part of the magic of the leap may be that we get a clearer glimpse of what the kingdom of heaven is like, through the lens of faith and trust.

The Haitian earthquake happened January 12th.  I heard about it first in an e-mail from my priest to the congregation.  I finally made the conscious decision to look at photos on-line on Monday, the 18th.  The night before, over an impromptu dinner with friends, one of them told me, “Don’t look.  You’ll be buying a plane ticket or something.  [The pictures] are awful.”  I agreed that I’d probably want to go over there and re-lactate or something so that I could nurse an orphaned baby.

But I looked at the photos, mainly from The Big Picture, whose photo posts are always view-worthy though not always pleasant.  The photos are honest, raw, and exquisite in their clarity.  The Haitian photos are no exception.  Looking at the photographs, how can we not be connected to the devastation?  Smell the dirt, smoke, blood and decay?  Hear the screams of pain and wails of grief?  Taste the dust in our dry mouths.  Feel the tremor of our own body at the fear of the aftershock in the earth and in our own memory.  As hope begins to fade for finding survivors, is hope being kindled quickly enough for a better tomorrow, for rebuilding an even better future?  In a country so populated with poverty, how can I know anything about what that hope might look like?

As the 69-year-old woman who prayed for the week she was trapped, all many of us can do is pray, too.  In a way we are trapped in our sheltered lives.  As richly blessed as we are, we are bound by our attachments, often committed to too much, unable to be moved when it may most be needed.  So we also pray for our own freedom and the gift of understanding that which is beyond our comprehension.

So I send a prayer of peace to the people of Haiti, that amidst this chaos they might find a reservoir of deep peace to carry them through.  To the rescue crews, I pray for strength in body, mind and spirit.  Thank you for doing the work that not all of us can do, and we send you our strength of spirit to back you.  To those in authority of Haiti and those discerning how to allocate funds and goods, may you be pure of heart and keep those in need as your first priority.  For that which I cannot understand, I pray that all will be well.

I was trying to sit and help my eldest study for the upcoming spelling bee. Everything has felt like an effort these past couple of days, and add to that the fact that it’s after eight and in the bedtime hour. My second oldest tells us he still has homework to do, and his chores still aren’t done. Everyone seems to be a whir of activity.

The child who is supposed to be washing his lunch dishes comes running through the living room to the piano, but the water is still running in the kitchen sink.

“What are you doing?!” I practically yell at him. Maybe he’s just letting the water get hot, I try to rationalize to myself.

“I’m doing two things at once because you are all telling me to do everything,” he replies, exasperated at best, still moving, straightening up his piano things.

Alas, I feel I’ve not done a good job this day. My nine-year-old feels the need to multi-task. God bless him, the boy is as slow as Christmas and has a hard time focusing on doing one task, let alone three or more.  Often, I have to write a list out just so he knows what he needs to do, and even that can mean a day-long commitment.

Why do we have so much to do? I wonder. So much laundry. So many dishes. So much house to clean (and we’re not in an extremely large house by any means for a family of 6). So much work to be done.

I remind myself that these are the ropes. Sometimes you swing high. Sometimes you swing low. It helps keep things in perspective because as soon as I think this, I remember how grateful I am that we have all we do. We are richly blessed.

We have to be careful, though, of how much of our time we spend in the absent-minded state of doing, doing, doing. Am I showing my kids how I do motherhood, or am I showing them how to be a mother?  Am I teaching them that the only way they will get anything accomplished is if they run themselves into the ground 24/7, or am I showing them that it really is about one’s quality of being that is of utmost importance.

At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter what I’ve said if I haven’t lived it.  I would have rather heard my son tell me he’s done his best this day to do what he can.  I would rather have seen a sleepy, contented smile on his face than the tired, sad eyes that were giving up on his homework.

When the tooth fairy visits tonight, I hope she brings another friend with a magic wand to wave over us all renewal, confidence and peace.  We’ll start again fresh in the morning light.

In my last post, I mentioned mindfulness.  It’s a buzzword these days.  Just be mindful, and all will be well.  That would be like me saying to live every day simply.  In an unapologetically Buddhist way, mindfulness is that easy and that difficult, just as living life simply is.  Read that as you will.

Only you know what is most important in your life.  Only you know what requires your attention and most feeds your soul; they aren’t often the same thing, and we all know it changes on a daily, if not hourly basis.

But if, in a moment, you can be where you are, at once embracing it yet with open arms and feeling everything fully without being overwhelmed, then you can do what needs to be done with clarity.  You can make a conscious choice, knowing what is the best thing to do in that moment.  This is our best work, or our work at its best.  With this clarity and sense of purpose, there is a profound freedom to be experienced.  There is a sense of participating in the flow of life.

I am more than a little amused at all the self-help books out there, the variety of techniques that aim to bring us to a sense of peace.  Each of us could write our own book.  Those of us who write, indeed, write mostly for and to ourselves, for that’s all we truly know.  At the core of it all, though, is the one flow of life, one peace, one good, and that’s what ties us together.  That’s what, when we write, we hope to tap into, sharing a truth that might resonate for others.

Again, only you know what you need.  First you have to be conscious.  You have to be honest.  Then you keep practicing and keep working hard.  We work hard to be, just be, in peace.  This is good work.

(photo from everystockphoto.com)

It may not make sense to you, but it does to me.

The day’s light gone, the fireplace warm and inviting, all the notions of productivity flee, and I want to sit and (at least pretend to) knit by the fire . . . perhaps even watch a new DVD.  “We could just go to bed by 11,” suggests my wise husband before he returns to his desk.

I feel the inner struggle, stoked by the mug of coffee I shouldn’t have had after 7pm.  There are other projects I could do, things I need to get done.  I allow myself to stare into the fire for a few minutes.  Every moment of every day, we have a choice.  Those of us who are blessed and challenged with working from home, whether we get paid or not, there’s no one but ourselves to hold us accountable.  Thus, the inner struggle arising at all hours of the day.

The trick to feeling good about what we do may very well be making conscious decisions.  Mindfulness, if you will.  I like to feel in dialogue with the Universe/God/whatever you want to say.  How can I co-create with that which is greater than me?  If I feel good about where I am, what I am doing, then I radiate that positive energy, affecting not only those around me but also the rest of the cosmos.  This is a good thing.

Resolutions still holding firm, I removed myself from the fire, returned to my “desk” and made some notes on a project to jump-start the work I have to do today.  Creative, tangible, productive.  I went to bed feeling good.  I read a few pages in Angela’s Ashes before turning out the light, closing my eyes, and hoping for insightful dreams.

My husband put on his Facebook post, “HOW TO: Have four sick kids at once.  1) Have four kids.  2) Have one of the four kids be sick.  3) Mix well on a snow day.”  The next day, naturally, he had to post a “how to have a sick dad.”  The positive side is that at least the kids haven’t missed the whole week due to sickness, and there may be a snow day tomorrow as well.

As mothers, there’s a sickness regimen I think we develop for ourselves.  Healthy food, limit sugar, lots of tea/water, naps, clean/disinfect.  Perhaps the universe is reminding me that this is of utmost importance in our daily round, not just when the kids are sick.  I say this because my focus this week has been on being productive and taking my “work” seriously.

Fortunately, I have the time to spend with my family.  We are here together and somehow seem to have the means to provide, thanks be to God.  As I strive to check items off my list today, I’ll try to remember what will help keep us healthy individually and as a family.

I’m just sad it’s too cold outside to play!  We may have to make an exception to the sugar rule for some homemade cookies. 

Dear Hearts (yes, this includes you),

I remember the night I sat in a class about the “authentic” journey, making a list of those I admire.  I remember the shock, near horror, of being told that I possess the qualities of those I admire.  How could I possibly possess their qualities, their potential?  But my denial or disbelief doesn’t change what is.

Now it’s a new year, particularly the Twelfth Day of Christmas, and I find myself richly blessed, ready to embrace the present truly as the gift it is.  I give thanks for all the past has brought me.  I read through my gratitude journal from the past year, and I could feel the radiance of love, warmth, and joy.  Looking forward into this year, I know these blessings will continue.  I have an optimistic yet realistic view on what this year brings.  It includes hard work, but it also brings growth and progress in all aspects of my life.  I hope your friendship will endure my work.  Though I may not seem as available as I’ve been, know that your presence abides with me.

I realize that you, too, are on the list among those I admire, and you, too, teach me much about who I can be, who I am.  Your love, companionship, laughter, warmth, appreciation, humor, gratitude, hope, inspiration, gentleness, faith, doubt, will, strength, perseverance and openness are just a few of the things I count among our treasures.  Thank you for teaching me and allowing me to teach you, as the aikido sensei is fond of saying.

It may be a new year, but it is just another day.  Each day the sun rises, we have the opportunity to take yet another cleansing breath, let it all go, and begin again.  Thank you for sharing your journey with me.  I look forward to all that is to come, but mostly, I give thanks for all that is.  You here, now, is a gift.  You have my love and gratitude, now as always.

xoxo,

Sara