The trees are torches. Bright red ones, scattered down the road, leading the way home.
The trees are lanterns. Offering warmth, beckoning you to gather people around and share stories of love and loss and laughter.
The trees are blood red. Crimson drops on the ground. Reminding me of Love’s sacrifice, and of the fact that what may soon appear dead and dormant will someday have life again.
The trees are candles. Bringing light and warmth to our otherwise darkening surroundings. Soothing and warming before Winter’s sleep.
The trees are worshiping.
I read the prompt for Five Minutes Friday this morning but haven’t yet time to write until just now. My tired brain just doesn’t know which angle to approach this word from.
Right now I am hoping I can make my tall skim white chocolate mocha last as long as possible.
And although I am having one of those days that just kind of makes me long for the far-off day when my husband and I can leave the kids at home by themselves and just go out for a coffee date… I am kind of glad that I haven’t had my last hold-the-baby-to-sleep moment, or last middle of the day coffee date with my baby boys.
And I had to pause in the middle of writing, could have sworn I’d felt my last heartbeat as I heard the 10-month-old open the door to the basement stairs and thump thump his little hands towards the top of that first step.
Oh my gosh.
Not the last indeed. And not the last time that I am having to get up because he is now splashing in the dog’s water bowl.
I could be all profound and talk about how the only things that will last will be the memories and the love that causes the increasing number of gray hairs on my too-young-for-grey head but…
I just don’t have that in me right now. Not to express in words too eloquently
Want to join me and the other Five Minute Friday-ers? Go here. And I didn’t even pause to correct my typos so much this time ;) … yes, I have typos, and yes, it is driving me a little crazy… but this one I just needed to get out anyway…
It’s happened twice now in the past couple months.
When someone passes and even though you weren’t there and you weren’t incredibly close, that moment when you know it’s as if…. as if when heaven opened up to receive them the small part of your souls that we’re intertwined feels it. The closeness of that space that separates the earthly from the eternal. Like when you close your eyes after seeing something bright and the shadow of it is still there in that black.
It all makes me feel small. The remembrance that we are spiritual beings in these bruised bodies. And the sharing of small memories and thwhen you are at the gravesite and you see a tombstone for someone’s baby, two months old…
And then you go to Panera, and while you’re waiting for your comfort food the sweet cashier who knows nothing about your week slips a free pastry into the to-go bag and she sneaks to the back before you can say thank you and you walk out to the car wondering why, and get in the car and all the tears just fall. And your husband says God wants us to know He’s taking care of us.
This is feeling small.
Deep Breath. Here we go. The next words after that bolded “Lonely” down there are my first attempt at joining Lisa Jo Baker in Five Minute Friday. She puts out this lovely invitation every Friday to write for five minutes flat on a prompt that she provides (today it was Lonely), link your post on her linky at her blog, and then leave a comment for the person who linked before you. I have always admired her and the others that join her but I have always been terrified to join them! Write for five minutes without editing?? Without wondering if it sounds “good enough”? Oh my goodness… but I recently wrote like that in a quiet time by myself a few weeks ago and it was freeing… and the words actually flowed easier. I’ll be honest and say this time I paused the timer because I suddenly found myself in the middle of a tiny writing panic attack (insecurities much??!) and out of habit I fixed my typos as I typed… but next time I will be trying to just go straight through :) … giving myself some grace this time and linking up anyway…
Want to join?!? Go here :)
I’m sitting here, turning this word over and over in my head, silently rolling it around on my tongue, like a lemon drop, and I don’t know what to do with it.
Most of the time I think I am not. I crave the silence in this house of three guys and me. The two-year-old never stops talking and the baby never stops wanting the holding and I am almost… never… alone.
I crave alone. And because of my wonderful husband, sometimes I have it.
I pace the floors in the sparse minutes in between all that makes up the daily thing of mothering and I just don’t know what to do most of the time. Something keeps me from all the productive things and there are days that my fingers hover right over the screen and I seep in the news of all the people that I never really see and I realize… craving alone and being lonely can happen right at the same time.
Desperately wanting someone to say “yeah, me too!” when I bare my deepest vulnerabilities, and it almost never happens and the scary risky practice of being bare in front of my friends becomes so hard.
And why can’t we all just say the hard things and bear the truth and carry all our weaknesses right in our hands and hold them out gentle for someone else to see, and why can’t we all let grace just drip from our eyes and say “yes… me, too”?
Let’s stop being lonely…
Hello little (big) boy sleeping in his big boy bed!
Hello dirt under my fingernails… goodbye weeds that have been taking over our “flower”beds for 3 years now (thank you very much, postpartum foggy exhaustedness).
Hello rosemary and basil plants.
Hello baby boy saying “Ee-yi, Ee-yi.” First word was his brothers name. Surprise? Not really. :)
Hello windows open for days. In the middle of the summer? In the middle of Ohio? Yes, and yes. It is wonderful!
Hello picture of the real state of real life… no pretty pictures for you today, sorry!
Hello homemade dressing, homemade bread, and only all-natural goat cheese and bleu cheese.
Goodbye the bottled stuff (besides for Eli and his daddy), pre-sliced bread, and, sadly, all other cheeses for me :(
Hello not caring too much.
Hello not thinking too much.
Hello paint. I’ve missed you.
I am blessed to have two little people call me Mommy, but sometimes it is just hard to not lose your mind on days when you hear “mommy” every six seconds.
Today I finding myself imagining that being a stay-at-home mommy (or daddy) is like being a one-man band… juggling all sorts of roles and sometimes literally juggling multiple children, too… except the kids, unlike the one-man’s instruments, have the free will to make noise when and as loud as they want to. In fact, I have very little control over them, or anything, at all!
But maybe all of this – not the literal noise but just the whole of the moments, the measures of life, even the hard ones, all strung together – if it wasn’t surrounding and all so close to my head, would sound lovely if I could just step back and hear the entirety of the song.
Today I am hearing only one measure of the song. It is abrupt and loud, messy and unimpressive, and up so close I can only hear it out of context… but the whole beautiful song wouldn’t be the same without it.
Hello breakfast quinoa and earl grey tea.
Hello Eli saying “I sit next’ta you!”
Hello breakfast turned into fingerprinting.
Oh, and did I mention hello morning after Isaac slept through the night?!
And hello 3 nights in a row of good sleep, after at least 3 weeks of insomnia!
Hello rested me, I hope you stay!