- The Big Bang Theory: What Happens When Two First-Born's Marry
- How Not to Panic When Your Child Asks You What Sex is in the Middle of Church
- How to Maintain June Cleaver-esque Composure During Hormonal Shifts
- How to Administer First-Aid Even if Blood and Vomit Make You Pass Out
Pages
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Advice for College Presidents
Monday, January 25, 2010
Making Do Part 2 {A Series}: Rug Rehab
Maybe I should have saved the hutch rehab for my final post in the series. It's certainly the biggest transformation and the most involved of the rehabs.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Making Do Part 1 {A Series}: Hutch Rehab
Linked up with Kimba's DIY Day {A Soft Place to Land.}
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Monday, January 18, 2010
Haiti
I'm sure I speak for many when I say that I have trouble falling asleep. My babies are safe and healthy and alive in their own beds. My family is accounted for. My community goes about the everyday business of work and productivity and relative normalcy. But Haitians won't know any of this for a long time.
I sit here as a mom who's simply one member of the watching world struggling with survivor's guilt. I want to fly down there and bind up wounds, bring home babies, and leave behind millions of dollars in aid. But I can't do any of those things so I will link to those who can.
Jenny got this site up and running overnight. You can choose a raffle to enter {great prizes donated by bloggers and others} and all the proceeds go directly to Compassion and The Red Cross. Or you can donate directly to these groups.
Here's a blog written by an American family living in Haiti as missionaries. Tara and my husband were childhood friends. She succintly provides a first-hand account of what it's like there. CNN.com even did a story on them. Most importantly, she mentions how we can pray and I need that. I want to pray for specific needs and specific people. I know you do too.
Lastly, there may be local Haitian groups in your area collecting supply donations. We are connected to a local Haitian church through my parents. This precious church was featured on the local news last night and every single person has lost family and friends. Can you imagine? Yet there they were yesterday praying and singing and telling the reporter, "God is in control."
He is.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
The Art of Letting Go
Once upon a time I was a swing-jumper. I vividly remember pumping my legs back and forth, back and forth as I watched the sky grow closer and felt my heart race with wild anticipation. At just the right moment, I’d let go and fly through the air with reckless abandon.
Letting go was the best part.
It’s been at least 25 years since I jumped from a swing and I’ve wondered how something that used to be completely innate became so completely foreign.
I still love a good adrenaline rush. It’s the letting go that gets me. It’s the letting go that I’ve had to re-learn.
That’s because I became quite good at holding on.
As I moved further from girlhood and closer to womanhood, holding on gradually came as naturally to me as the letting go had been when I was eight.
Holding on to the past and all the hurts and mistakes therein. Holding on to what I wanted my present to look like and how it didn’t measure up. Holding on to a future over which I had {and still have} no control. Holding on to so many levels of perfection I couldn’t even keep up with where I’d placed all of my type-A lists and mandates. Holding on to guilt and “if-only’s” and too much worry…
No longer the girl who lived life with reckless abandon and smiled at the sun, I became the wife and then the careerist and then the mom who got bogged down in the travails of the trivial. In short, I became a grown up.
But some sort of miracle gradually started to unfold about a year ago.
I began, slowly but deliberately, to reverse the havoc time had wreaked.
I started celebrating the everyday, disarray included. I grabbed hold of moments here and there and lived life as a child. It was painfully awkward and unnatural at first.
Like some sort of crash victim who had to re-learn basic mobility and motor functions, I had to learn how to let go again. And oddly enough, my kids became the therapists. They are, after all, the experts. I wonder how they got so wise.
Daily I’m learning. Some days I make tremendous strides, spurred on by the applause of those who love me most. Other days are met with relapse and regression.
It is both a conscious choice on my part and a grace bestowed by a Creator who knows me well and listens, daily, to my desperate pleas for help. Prayers tossed up like pancakes as I’m sopping up juice, wiping tears {theirs and mine}, listening to jokes that don’t really have a punch-line, realizing that the to-do list will never find completion and wondering if there will ever come a day of regular showering.
Some days the celebrating gets tricky…but it’s always possible.
Tonight I will go to bed knowing that I could have folded the laundry, finished up the dishes, mopped the floor and put more time into this post. Instead, my head will hit the pillow and marvel that I simply let it all go.
I read loads of books with the kids on our well-worn sofa in the messy living room, served as a jungle gym for my 2-year-old, tickled my boys until they could take no more, and laughed hysterically with my daughter through the season premiere of American Idol.
And while that sort of thing may come naturally for some, it was a monumental victory for me, full of imaginary fanfare amid such ordinariness.
Letting go of holding on is still hard. The achieving perfectionist who desperately wants more to show for her toil at the end of the day is never far beneath the surface. Not to mention her sister, the brooding second-guesser with the iron grip on all that past, present, future nonsense. And don’t even get me started on the guilt-monger.
But every day I say no to their familiar siren calls is one step closer to an everyday of finding childlike freedom and joy in the thrill of letting go.
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Linked to Tuesdays Unwrapped {Chatting at the Sky}
It goes without saying that Tuesdays have served as a great source of inspiration and encouragement as I've practiced the {still-budding} art of letting go. {To Emily and my fellow unwrappers, thank you.}