I once heard it’s good feng shui to have your fridge full of food.  My grandpa always kept his car full of gas.  My grandma always had a pantry full of canned goods and a freezer so full of food you could barely shut it, let alone fit another bag of frozen anything in there.  My mother-in-law usually has at least two of everything, mainly so she can share with the family — thanks to the good deals she finds.

There’s a good fortune there that can easily be taken for granted.  Their ways of being and doing things rely upon being able to sustain them.  They have the resources to do so.  I didn’t realize how fortunate I was as a kid.  I knew others relied on school lunch programs.  I knew there were homeless kids and adults, that even if they had a make-shift home, it didn’t necessarily mean they had electricity or running water.

I also realize the predicament my parents were in, a stereotypical struggle of middle class America.  Keep up with the Joneses.  Make things look well and good, even if the budget is a train wreck.  Pay the medical and dental bills out of pocket; what other choice do you have?  Buy now, pay later . . . if you can.  Don’t let the kids know how hard it is.

Now my husband and I find ourselves living between these two ways of living, and I can’t help but wonder if this isn’t an opportunity to find a resolve so that our kids won’t have to struggle with the same issues.  I feel like my grandparents, who lived through the depression, wanted to make sure they never ran out, that there’s always plenty.  They also felt very strongly about paying for things with cash; buy only what you can afford.  I feel like my parents, who reached adulthood in the 70s, lived fully in the 80s mentality: get what you need (a.k.a. want), taking time to pay it back.  It provided a kind of feast or famine way of life.

Our opportunity, again, is to find what is best of each generation, and I think that relies on us being able to clearly know what is enough.

I heard that it’s best to use the full tank of gas before filling up again.  I know from experience that I feel like I’m not wasting as much money on gas when the tank if full.  (Doesn’t it seem like the top half of the tank lasts longer?)  I know that food does not last forever, even in a freezer.  It’s best to cycle through and actually use it and replace it regularly.  Some staples do last longer when frozen, so saving room for bulk flour, oats, rice and such is smart.  I appreciate credit, too, but unless it can be managed wisely and paid off quickly, it’s best to pay with cash.  Do not live outside your means.  I’m still learning this simple lesson that can be so hard to live.

I also take the opportunity to tell my kids why we don’t eat out so often, why the fridge might not be full of fresh produce, why I cannot and will not pay full price for new clothes and such (unless absolutely necessary).  I don’t tell them to make them feel guilty or ashamed; I want them to know and understand.  I also try to make sure they share in my gratitude for what is shared with us, what is given to us. As a parent, you have to know how hard this can be.

Slowly, we are learning what is enough.  Though it may feel like we’re cutting it close on having enough food and supplies, we do have enough.  We realize how little we actually need to feel sustained and thriving.  Appreciation goes a long way.  A positive attitude does make a difference.  Our time isn’t spent moping about thinking about what we lack or miss.  We have to set a standard for ourselves.  Society’s expectations and norms have proven skewed and unbeneficial.

We have the opportunity to find where the value lies in our family.  We determine what is enough for us, really and truly.  If we need to buy in bulk out of necessity to save $10 and make sure we don’t run out of toilet paper or peanut butter (you have to have your priorities!), so be it.  I have a feeling other lessons and opportunities will follow regarding learning to live sustainably.  Our awareness continues to broaden.

I am so grateful for our abundance.

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.

This whole week embodies an Indian summer.  We’ve had our first frost.  All the trees have come aglow, and most have dropped their leaves.  I chanced upon this ginko tree at the park the day before Halloween; they drop their leaves so quickly.  Their golden leaves must be too heavy to hold for long.

And this week (which happened to include my birthday) reminds me of the renewal I feel in the fall, the creativity, optimism and groundedness.  Quite simply, I give thanks.  My blessings abound.  My gifts continue to create a beautiful harvest and provide me with plenty of work to be joyfully busy.

Even when the sun hides behind the clouds, as it undoubtedly will sometime soon, and the nighttime increases, I’ll let the Light glow from within and cherish the time to let my hands create gifts for those I love.

My youngest and her equally young friend pick raspberries in the autumn wind and sun, bundled in their jackets, their hands turning red.  Of course, on their return inside, there’s a heap of jackets, socks and shoes near the rocking chair/climbing gym.

My boys and their friend huddle around their DSes, plotting, sharing and exclaiming together as new levels are achieved.  A day home from school means anything can happen.  Today I’ll witness them conquer new worlds.

My oldest retreats to her room.  A house full of young ones is not her ideal.  Weeks can be stressful, especially when one has to balance living in the world with an old soul in a young body.  I should know.  She asked almost pleadingly if she could play on her DS today, too . . . after chores, of course.  I agreed.

Tonight we jump-start the Halloween celebration by dressing in costume and going to a classical concert of “spooky” music.  Tomorrow we celebrate a birthday, All Hallow’s Eve and our friendships at a couple of Halloween parties.  But as my husband remarked, we should celebrate the kids, with the kids, this weekend.  After he attended the three parent-teacher conferences, he was reminded (and thus reminded me) how wonderful our children are, how blinded we can be by being with them so much and getting muddled in the day-to-day routines.  This weekend, we celebrate.

And as their mother, I should never forget how holy each day is that I see the joy in their eyes, the fragility of their person,  the Light in their lives.  Whether we  birth our children in body or heart, whether they are with us in body or spirit, these things among many are what a mother should never forget.

With a heart full of Love, I give thanks.

Remembering, of course, that I’m a most mild-mannered person, the realm of things I never thought I would do is rather broad. Even some things I thought I would do remain undone, and this isn’t a bad thing. My life is full of potential!

I never thought I would cut my own hair, let alone my daughter’s, into a very short cut . . . using clippers. But this I have done. I continue to cut my own hair short for convenience, cost, and practicality. Cutting one’s hair isn’t a big deal, really, but I never imagined cutting and then dyeing my daughter’s hair blue, especially not just the little bit up front that we left long enough to tuck behind her ear. This, too, was done, and most likely will be done again.

I don’t know, however, if I will ever get another opportunity to wrap someone in duct tape. That’s right. My ever-creative relative needs a corset for Halloween and found clever instructions here

that advise using duct tape to get the form/pattern needed. This is definitely a project to be done with someone you trust, and it is incredibly funny. Left alone, I think it would also make for a great superhero garb.    She didn’t have to consent to a photo, but I’m glad she did.

I hope your fall time has brought such creative exploration and new experiences.  I’ll look forward to sharing the many projects that this coming Christmas season promises.

After a busy day, a fulfilling, worthwhile day, I truly love to get the kids to bed and kick back and relax.  Cue the DVD player, escape to another reality, and vicariously experience a range of emotions.  I consider it my down time, time when I don’t really have to think about anything.  I unplug from my life for a little bit, plugging instead into a different time and place.

Netflix has facilitated this down time for me, increasing my repetoire of movies viewed, some of which I wouldn’t have ever seen had it not been for their lovely search engines and categorizing.  I may not be able to watch their movies online (because I never got it to work), but I do have three movies at any given time to choose from.  This is helping me dwindle down our personal DVD collection, facilitating that clearing of “stuff” we don’t really need.  For that, I am grateful.

But then I began to feel like I needed to push movies through my que, like I needed to watch a movie a night to feel like I’m giving myself a break.  Truth be told, it is escapist, and not necessarily healthy in my opinion.  Occasionally, sure.  I love a good movie and always will.  I grew up loving John Hughes movies, watching them repeatedly.  Somehow other people’s lives, fictional Hollywood characters’ lives were and are more fascinating than mine.

So, I’m cancelling Netflix.  We’re getting rid of our big, old t.v.  It’s not a flat-screen or anything fancy, and it’s a family hand-me-down.  We’ll get the big entertainment cabinet out of the living room and re-use it for pottery or something.  Not to worry.  We have two computers and a laptop in the house.  We have video capabilities.  We have family with plenty of television/cable viewing opportunities.  We’ll just be encouraged to moderate the time in front of the screen.  Why not keep the t.v., movies, games, etc.?  Can’t you just moderate your time and keep the equipment?  We’ve been asked.

We have four kids.  We have hobbies.  We have precious few hours of time as a family.  And my “down time”?  If I seriously need down time, I need to unplug and stay unplugged.  Filling my mind with static doesn’t help anyone.  And there are books.  So many books I haven’t read; so many books I have yet to write.  There’s also good old-fashioned staring off into space.  I can just sit and look out the window, gaze at the stars or the trees.  In the silence, I can hear myself, allow myself to be still, and maybe, just maybe, realize how close God really is.  Why keep something around that we don’t even use?

My life is a far-cry from Hollywood, but each of us is given an amazing opportunity to find what is magical, what is truly Holy.  Two hours a day or night is a lot of  time to search for something, to discover something that has been there all along.  I would hate to miss it because I was too busy watching the screen.

Thanks, Netflix, for helping me discover what I knew was here all along — time to do everything that needs to be done.

All that’s left of last night’s magical family dinner is a heaping bit of ashes in our backyard make-shift fire pit.  Reheated leftovers and fresh canteloupe might not sound magical, but a quick meal for mom is.  Partner that with fading light, newly-mowed yard and crackling fire; you can almost hear the twinkle in the children’s eyes above their giddy laughter and chatter.  To top it all off, we had s’mores.  Yes, even on a school night, and I pretended not to notice how many marshmallows the kids were really eating, though I did close up the bag and keep everything right beside me.  It was a perfect dinner together.

Right now I’m reading a book called The Great Emergence by Phyllis Tickle.  This “Emergent Christianity” talk has a way of getting people talking for sure.  Where I am in the book at the moment, she’s talking about the different points in history that change our perception and understandings of our reality.  At this point, she’s talking about women’s rights, on up to the point now where both parents in the family are working.  Family dinners together are no longer the sacred time they once were.  The family works to pay for the house.  Both parents work to have a sense of personal, social and financial freedom.  The house is a resting place for both parents and the children who are exhausted from a full day at school and/or day care.

I’m not further than that right now, but if, like my kids do in their reading classes, I were to make a prediction, I would say that she’s going to say our next shift has to be from working to the point of exhaustion to working at that which brings us energy, fills us up.  If we work solely to pay the bills, it seems we do sell ourselves out.  We’re draining that which invigorates us, and not only from ourselves but from our families as well.  Our children sense it.  We sensed it from our parents, right?  Precious few of us, and maybe there are actually more than I realize, got to witness our elders doing what they loved.  The work ethic from the Depression to the Consumerism of the 80′s led to the workaholics we know only too well.  But now there’s an employment crisis, partnered with this seeking, this longing.  People wonder what they’re “supposed” to be doing.  Yes, pay the bills, but what’s my “purpose”?

Michele Odent, a renowned OB-GYN, was quoted in The Business of Being Born as saying that, like a traveler who realizes he/she is lost, you have to go back to where you were on the path before you took a wrong turn.  He was talking about midwifery care being the right path, and the alienation of them being the wrong turn.  The analogy works for us, though, too.  Families striving to accumulate material wealth doesn’t cut it anymore.  Yes, both parents or both partners need to work at something.  Both need to feel appreciation, accomplishment, success and a sense of service to others, but it doesn’t always have to be outside the home.  It doesn’t have to be white collar.  It would seem that we are on the brink of realizing that the place of judgement isn’t ours.  We have to work to help each other.  We need to realize that we all have gifts and help each other live into those gifts as fully as possible.  How do we do that?  I haven’t the foggiest, but I’m sure my children will be part of a generation that learns to live that way.  I do hope so.

I’m curious to see what Tickle says about our current era, where she sees us going and how.  I know it seems like my husband and I have a rather traditional relationship; it works for us for him to work and me do what I consider my work from home or through church.  But now he’s out of the corporate realm.  We share home tasks.  We’re showing our kids what a partnership is like.  We also revel in the blessing of extended family.  Hopefully we’ve been able to keep the right things on our path as we’re moving forward and find that which keeps us invigorated.

The only thing that would have made last night even more perfect would have been if dearest and I had had enough energy after getting the kids to bed to go back out by the fire and watch the coals burn down, just the two of us on the quilt, wrapped up together in my shawl.  Maybe next time.

The anticipation in my oldest child leading up to the first day of school nearly pushed me over the edge.  I was ready to trash the school supplies and send her to school with a piece of paper and a pencil.

The second child got stung by a wasp the night before school started and still has residual swimmer’s ear (which will probably lead to a doctor’s appointment soon).  This probably attributed toward his emotional instability before and after his first day at school.

Our third and wild child who started kindegarten this year seems to be doing the best of all — at least outside the classroom.  Could it be that our seemingly most troublesome child is actually the healthiest?  He has consistent behavior and seems to be going with the flow.

Our fourth child informed me she wanted to go to school, too, yesterday.   However, this morning, after being awakened at 7am, she’s not so keen on the early morning school thing.  She’s still in her jammies after 9.

I share all this not only to document my children’s first day of school but also to comment on the different perspectives we take in life.  I remember the excitement, the anxiety, the anticipation not only of first days but of first kisses, first love, first home, first birth.  I hope to experience many more firsts.

Onward now in my spiritual journey and life in general, I realize that part of living life to the fullest is to experience every moment as a first, to bring the childlike enthusiasm to the moment — a beginner’s mind.  I am so quick to make things routine, anxious to make it a habit so that I don’t have to think about it.  There’s nothing wrong with making something healthy a habit, but only if I can do so with awareness and an open mind.

So now I get to practice.  Bring the enthusiasm of the first day of school (that helped me get up at 5:40 am) into every morning.  To make breakfast and help prepare lunches with a happy heart, blessing the food that it might nourish my beautiful, brilliant children.  And then I can move onto practicing in other moments, as if they were the first or might be the last.

“Today is the first rainy day” at my new school, my daughter told us this morning.  Oh, that I might appreciate this day as such.

photo: everystockphoto.com by bies — no, not my child because the only picture i took was on my phone!

Walking in public places, do you notice the awkwardness of when to make contact with others?  Should I look into their eyes?  Smile?  What if they look up just as I’m looking away?  Should I send good energy their way or conserve?

Then I think about how ridiculous the whole concept is if, in fact, the energy isn’t mine to give but ours to share.  I sense an obligation to make contact with others who participate in this life with me, as I participate in this life with them.  I offer my smiles, my focus, even if it’s just a moment, as it usually is.  Maybe that moment of contact, of relation, with all its sincerity and lack of expectation, can be like the butterfly in the chaos theory, changing the course of events for the better.

It only takes a moment to let someone know, “I hear you.  I witness you here and now.  You are not alone.”

In our Circle of Trust, during our small group time, we conclude each focus person’s time with “We hear you.  We honor you.  We bless you.  We love you.  We are blessed by you.”  (something like that,  anyway)  And the miraculous thing is we really mean it.  How often do you get to say these words and feel in your heart of hearts the deep connection?  This practice is spreading into the rest of my life, opening my heart so that it’s not just those with whom I work closely that I feel a connection, that I experience a deep, genuine love.  I daresay this practice of compassion is growing into Compassion.

There is no one point of contact, no quantitative measure of when and where to do this or that in society, regarding when to smile and/or make eye contact or not.  It’s just as true to form not to make eye contact, so long as we feel the connection, honor the other and participate in our wholeness.

Your suffering is my suffering.  Your joys are my joys.  Your life is mine, as mine is yours.  I bow to the Buddha in you as you see the Christ in me.  Here we are, as One.

I hear you.  I honor you.  I bless you.  I love you.  I am blessed by you.