Trains, Tutus and Tea time

ends and beginnings

2012-02-14T12:19:00.000-05:00

I think I've outgrown this space. No, I know I have. I want to continue writing, sharing, but this space, it just feels like it has served it's purpose and it is time to move on. It's hard to explain. But I've started a simpler, quieter place where I can journal the little things and big things, like knitting and living, focusing on the things that are important to me right now, and that make me happy. Fresh. Knits. Mothering. Living. Seaside. It's feeling good.

Weaving in the Ends is the new space. By all means I'd love to have you read along.

Thank you, Trains, Tutus and Tea Time for being here when I needed you. I have printed you out, and will hold onto the words shared and received here. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. And thank you to all who have been along for the journey!

Thoughtfully irrelevant

2012-01-09T07:00:00.000-05:00

And so.

It's been a while.

And I'm just here, popping in to say that I'm elsewhere for now....

Maegan of Life Set to Words and I have partnered up to write weekly at our new site thoughtfully irrelevant. We're both more than excited to work together, and this project is already close to our hearts.

Please check it out. And while I might be having trouble writing here, I'll be there once a week, Monday mornings. The first post is up... and already the connections are inevitable...

Start at the home page to read about the project, the about the artist section to find out a bit more... and then click over to the first post that went live this morning. Let us know what you think!

{thoughtfully irrelevant...}

Holiday Adventures

2011-12-06T19:24:00.002-05:00

This year we're adding to our Christmas decorations almost daily with handmade loveliness. Yarn and button trees surrounded by twinkle lights warm my heart, and make me oh so happy. The kids too. And even though he rolls his eyes, it makes Lucas happy too.

The kids and I are leaving on our first lengthy road trip tomorrow. 7 hours to dear, dear friends for a relatively last minute visit. I've done the drive, but the kids... well... lets just say I'd love it if you'd keep us all in your prayers! I have a feeling we'll be Jingle Bell'ing it via the Barenaked Ladies quite a few times {their Christmas CD really is the best!} and whipping out the Scrabble Cheeze-It's like there's no tomorrow!

It will be an adventure... one that we're all so excited for, and honestly, this is what life is about. Friends. Visiting. Togetherness. Not only during the holidays, but all year. But I'll take any excuse for a visit, even if it's delivering Christmas presents in person!

Prelude 2011

2011-12-05T11:28:00.002-05:00

I wish I had words to describe the magic of Prelude in Kennebunkport... but year after year words elude me. It's simply beautiful, organic, Christmas spirit.

And every year it gets more fun with the kids. From walking the streets lined with people wearing Santa hats, to caroling at the monastery, to a chilly morning beach walk, it symbolizes the beginning of the Christmas season for us.

And now we decorate, and visit, and sing and eat cookies like it's nobody's business!

Snapshots of simplicity and togetherness

2011-12-01T19:39:00.003-05:00

Earlier today I was looking through the pictures on my phone... snapshots of everyday goodies... moments captured...

Like this one. I'm not one for graffiti, but this one is okay in my book:

And my brother {a self proclaimed tea snob...} , shortly after surgery on his arm, holding a mug that his lovely sister brought him :)

And my bestie... sigh. I'm hoping to see her again very, very soon. Some relationships are just a gift. Plain and simple. And should be treated as such.

Some pictures hold so much emotion - like Paige wearing a sweater made for Lucas by his great Aunt Nan. She was the matriarch of his family for so long, a beautiful, sweet soul who is shining down warmth and light in this photo:

And some pictures... they speak so deeply to my soul. My daughter enjoying the quiet at our favorite place. Our favorite. I like that.

{and just so he doesn't feel left out...} Fynn on his birthday. This might be the only picture I took of his day this year... he's not as willing as Paige is to have his photo taken these days.

Of course, sometimes I take pictures of what we make... when we get all crafty in this house. This driftwood Christmas tree was inspired by one on Pinterest. So simple, so perfect.

And some moments just beg to be recorded, to be made permanent. Paige fell asleep in the car this afternoon snuggling a bag of Trader Joe's cheese puffs...

These pictures speak lengths about our days. Spent simply and together. I think those two things are what I'm growing to appreciate the most. Togetherness. Simplicity. Gearing up for winter and hibernation, it's honestly not making me that sad this year thinking about being stuck at home. Cheese puffs, my littles, a warm home, and good friends to chat with through the day {thank goodness for phones...} and a stockpile of tea... I think we're ready for the whatever the next few months will bring.

2011-11-28T16:06:00.002-05:00

The kids and I are driving around in my father in laws car for the next few days. White and boat like, the Buick is treating us well. When we step out our clothes smell a bit like pipe tobacco. It reminds me of neighbors back when I was Paige's height. Harold smoked a pipe, and I can still remember their living room. It might be one of my earliest memories.

With temperatures in the 60's {last week the lows were in the 20's...} the beach called our names this afternoon. We went. Picked up pieces of driftwood for a Christmas decoration that is in the making. We pulled into the beach parkinglot as Brenda Lee rocked around the Christmas tree on the radio. 'Tis the season!

Fynn's teaching Paige how to write her letters. Paige writes cards everywhere she goes. I've made the executive decision to forgo Christmas cards this year in order to keep my sanity. It might be the first year that I haven't sent a card out in 14 years. Seriously. Next year I'll put the kids to work, we'll make our cards by hand, they'll sign their names. This year though, I want to keep it simple.

I got brave last night and cut my own bangs. I've never really had them before. At least I've never had bangs that worked. I like them. They frame my face a little and it kept me from chopping all of my hair off. Sometimes a girl needs a change.

{eventually I'll use photos from my big camera... but I'm having trouble uploading them due to my slow'ish internet connection... until them... retro camera on the droid it is!!}

It's been a while

2011-11-27T21:18:00.002-05:00

It's been a while since I've felt the longing and need to spill words from my day onto this blank space.

I miss this space right now.

But the time away made me realize that this space has worth in my family's life. My kids paged through printed copies of the blog from when they were babies... seeing the pictures all in one place {my photo printing is hardly up to date...} and they giggled as I remembered treasures of bits from years gone by that don't sit at the forefront of my memory.

And as much as I tell myself that I will write with pen and paper, I don't. Aside from my gratitude journal, and a few hand written notes, I did not write over the last month, or take photos. Because I would pick up my camera and it would not do what I wanted it to do.

I was out of practice. Use it or loose it. It really is true.

And so I'm picking this up again, at least this moment. I've tried a few times, and the tug is still here, I'm going to just ride the wave as it comes. Because this space holds importance. Where else can I share photos of prayer flags lit by freshly hung Christmas lights on our porch?

Beach Love

2011-10-13T16:34:00.004-04:00

The big 3-0 came and went... and with it came a tattoo and a sense of maturity. I feel different. It might sound crazy, but I do. One thing that came with this year, this change, this move, this inner growth... is a renewed passion and love for the beach. It's always been there, but this past year it grew. And so with a needle and wave, I cemented the simplicity and curve of the ocean into my heart, and around my wrist.

The kids long for the beach too, and so even when we are sick {as the kids are this week} we still manage to go a few times a week. Earlier in the week it was sunny and the autumn sunshine bore down on us while we collected treasures. It was heavenly.

And then today, amid sniffles and rain drops we dawned rain boots and slickers and went a little north to find a rocky beach that holds memories and surfers and time. Paige gathered so many rocks in her bag that she was as unsteady as her previous newly walking self who toddled across this same rock walk with a hand outstretched for balance. Today it was outstretched to show a palm full of rocks. Her cheeks puffed as they get with the sniffles, reminded me again of a younger version of her.

The outing today was largely due to Fynn. His recent spurt in creativity has my head spinning. Yesterday and today he took apart the easel to use it for spare parts of another vision. Seriously. Unscrewed and used limbs of the easel. Lord help me. Between his excitement over taking things apart, and Paige's new found love for Bernita the imaginary lion who happens to be a fabric cutting board... my mind needed the sea today.

My mom sent me Anne Morrow Lindbergh's Gift from the Sea, and I'm reading it very very slowly and highlighting nearly entire pages. While parts are dated {it was written in the 1950's} the majority of the book is timeless. A women's struggle to find balance and creativity and solitude while taking part in raising children and a home and being a part of community. One section that I've been thinking about since I read it talks about the importance of getting time alone:

"When the noise stops there is no inner music to take its place. We must re-learn to be alone.
It is a difficult lesson to learn today - to leave one's friends and family and deliberately practice the art of solitude for an hour or a day or a week. For me, the break is the most difficult. Parting is inevitably painful, even for a short time. It is like an amputation, I feel. A limb is being torn off, without which I shall be unable to function. And yet, once it is done, I find there is a quality to being alone that is incredibly precious. Life rushes back into the void, richer, more vivid, fuller than before. It is as if in parting one did actually lose an arm. And then, like the star-fish, one grows it anew; one is whole again, complete and round - more whole, even, than before, when the other people had pieces of one."

And while I understand what she's saying, and agree completely, I also understand that taking that break is not always a choice one has. And so today, when I needed it, when a rock was shoved in the dustbuster opening hard enough to have it possibly never come out... I knew what we needed. What I needed. And there, at the ocean I can find solitude while with the children. Lindbergh also wrote: ""No man is an island," said John Donne. I feel we are all islands - in a common sea." I adore that sentiment.

My common sea is vast and welcoming.

And when it beckons, I can't help but run to it wildly.

The Red Sweater

2011-10-05T17:08:00.004-04:00

When I was knitting up this sweater for Paige... this is what I pictured. Her. The beach. The Red Sweater. Yellow sunflower buttons.

After it was completed she wouldn't wear it. My kids use the whole "it's too scratchy" line before they even try anything on. It's maddening. The only thing they will say isn't scratchy is... well... really super expensive {like 100% organic cotton yarn... fancy tastes...}

But somehow, she agreed to it today, and she wore it comfortably. For a few hours. And made this mama so happy.

It was well worth the wait to see her under puffy clouds and the bluest sky walking barefoot across the sand... after three days of rain... here comes the sun, indeed.

Saturday mini rambles...

2011-10-01T17:28:00.003-04:00

My feet are sore this afternoon... full from a day of consignment shopping with a friend, date day with Fynn... which included lunch out, ice cream, mini golf {a first for him!}, poking around at the Halloween store, and Trader Joe's. And he still has energy.

Time with just him is precious. I get Paige to myself when he's in preschool, but most days I long for quiet moments when I can hear his voice. Sometimes it gets lost in the comedy of Paige and the hustle of getting places and the frantic of laundry and dishes and getting dinner on the table...

~~~~~~~~~

The shop is getting full... I'm loving solid colors and the yarn from Quince & Co. and my fingers are flying fast as I try to keep up with my personal knitting and shop knitting. Balance... such a dirty word!

{and just for blog readers... you can use the code: BLOG10 for 10% off your purchase,.. happy shopping!}

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for the kind comments on my last post... I'm mostly over my indulgent woes about turning 30...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I thought I had more bits for today... but my brain is as tired as my feet... and my fingers are aching for yarn...

time time time

2011-09-28T20:04:00.002-04:00

In a week and a half I'll be 30. I know... it's still young. 30 is the new 20... it's just a number... all that.

I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around 30. Really. A hard time. I was fine last week, and now I'm not okay.

It's not that I'm afraid of getting old. Or of saying goodbye to my twenties. But then again it is. So much happened in my twenties. I finished college. Got married. Had two babies. Got sober. Moved a few times. Came into my own. Got out of my own way... so it was a lot. And as I was gently reminded today by a sweet friend... I can close out my twenties and begin anew with thirty, and thirty is good.

Right?

Maybe it's a little bit of worry about what my thirties could hold if there was so much life changing in my twenties. What more can change?

But then, isn't every moment life changing? So if you look at all the moments in a ten, twenty, thirty year span, that's a lot of life changing. At any age.

I don't know. Thirty just seems... so big.

{this is not a ploy for early birthday wishes... just a brain dump on turning thirty...}

Paige today

2011-09-26T13:05:00.002-04:00

We played with girlfriends this morning while Fynn was at school. Paige is always hesitant at first, and wants to go home for the first hour. Then she wants to stay for ten days. I watch as she pats a back and tells a friend that everything will be okay after a dog sighting. How she holds a hand and gently leads the little one. How sometimes she holds back and watches, or gets caught up with acorns and leaves. She looks so tall today, in her boots and dress {picked by her...} Sometimes I just stare at her. She's stunning, her whole being.

Fog

2011-09-23T13:19:00.004-04:00

The past two nights Paige has slept like a newborn. Up every two or three hours, fussy, not wanting to be alone. Normally it's fine when that happens, we bring her into bed with us, and we all get a decent enough nights sleep. But now she doesn't want to come into our bed, she wants to stay in her bed, which means whoever is with her goes back and forth or tries to sleep in her cramped little twin bed that doesn't do nice things to a grownup body... and leaves you with numb arms or a creaky back....

We drop Fynn off at preschool, and me in my yoga pants and Paris teeshirt and Paige in her pajama bottoms and rain jacket decided that a trip to the beach to pick up shells and sea glass is exactly what the doctor ordered.

Upon arrival we see the fog. And on the beach, it engulfs us. We hear the ocean, but we can't see it. The small amount of clarity given to us is just enough to keep from looking up and feeling dizzy with claustrophobia. We keep our heads down, and our ears open. Cloudy sea glass is the new sand dollar... and we search and search. We find sticks and leave messages in the sand... be still... you are enough... listen.... and as the tide is going out I can only hope that someone sees and takes the messages to heart.

In the distance we see a shape. Sitting and hunched. Maybe a fishing pole? We can't tell until we get closer. And there he sits, the perfect image of a fisherman. Yellow slicker, grey hair puffing out from a sturdy baseball cap, cigar in mouth, stoic. He doesn't move an inch as we draw closer, he stares off into the fog. We walk around him, and my girl who can't keep her voice at inside levels indoors, is hushed. I look back after we pass, and he still just sits there, on a massive old plastic pickle container, his bait by his side. We smell his cigar for ten more minutes down the beach.

We walk on and find some treasure, bottlecaps, sea glass and angle wings... purple and delicate. This time of year is for the locals. We smile and actually wave at strangers, bound together by the knowledge that this is our beach. Seagulls sit, fat with a summer of tourist food and children dropping sandwich crusts. An army of sandpipers gather and watch the waves, timing their advance perfectly.

On our way back, he's still there. Motionless even as a dog without a leash runs up to him. Finally he turns his head, gathers his bait on his lap, nods to the dog owner. Then he returns to his pose. And we pass again, not a word, just footprints hushed by sand.

The fog has lifted only slightly, and we can see only a bit further. Clarity still escapes us, as we walk towards the fog. We are sleepy and slow, but we are trusting what's hidden in front of us.

September Swell - Just Write

2011-09-20T07:47:00.004-04:00

Yesterday after preschool the kids wanted to go to the beach. Of course. Shedding cool, cozy, crisp autumn morning gear we raced into swimsuits and were hopeful for a repeat of last week. Last week the water was warm, the air was warm, I wore a new swimsuit of red and white polka dots. I feel like Marilyn Monroe when I wear it. Curves in the right places. When I wear it I throw my head back and smile and laugh, because life is full. Last week I got down on my hands and knees where the water comes onshore and sifted through rocks and shells for sand dollars. We found dozens of pieces, and two teeny tiny whole ones. Better than gold. I tucked them in the bust of my swimsuit, as another beach goer told me to do earlier this summer, to keep them safe. So they can make it home without breaking. And they did.

So we wanted a repeat of last week. I wanted to crawl in the surf and tip my head back in the sunshine and drink it up, not knowing if this beach trip would be the last swimming beach trip of the year.

I think last week might have been it.

Yesterday it was cold. The air stung, the wind took our breath away. And yet, the kids still went into the September Swell. There were folks walking around in winter jackets, hoods pulled up, holding themselves for warmth. And my kids were sucking every last bit of breath from the season. I wore my Marilyn suit, and went in to my knees. I tipped my head back and smiled, through shivers. Warmed myself on the blanket with a sweatshirt and towel as my babies raced on the sand and in the surf.

And now I sit with my tea, in my sweater, in my sweatpants, with kids energy swelling around me waiting for baking time to make the long awaited pumpkin bread and we are entering the next season. They blur. September swells and we bob in its waves.

~~~~Linking up with Heather's Just Write... please join us!~~~~

Stumbling

2011-09-17T19:42:00.003-04:00

Sometimes we stumble
and sometimes we stumble upon things... like an art in a favorite park... full of prayer ribbons and coffee canisters that spin thoughts and wishes and prayers up to the heavens. And make mamas emotional, and puzzle children until we tell them that this is another way we can talk to God. We find Sharpie pens that have been left, untethered and yet, still where they belong. Not pilfered or stolen, vandalized. No words of profanity just soulful expressions for hikers, lovers of nature, people who have chosen to put parts of their heart on ribbon for all to see, and for Him to hear. We write, then spin and giggle and get teary as we read each others penned prayers. Patience and thankfulness. Peace. Hope. Prayers by children for their mama and dada. A prayer by my Fynn for waves and the beach. Prayers by grandparents for grandchildren. For the sick.

It's love that we stumble upon, out on the path that overlooks the same river that we see from our porch and windows. Most days we stumble over something. Ourselves. Each other. But everything we stumble over, we can stumble into. And embrace.

Where I'm From

2011-09-14T19:26:00.005-04:00

I am from canning jars, from Rainbow Brite and homemade with love birthday cakes.

I am from the white house on Yvonne Street, the school room sun porch, the sound of the waves and pebbles pulled to sea.

I am from hostas, queen anne's lace, rocks for sale, the lilac bush, dandelion chains, the sweet smell of spring and the bitter taste of fall decay.

I am from the devout and stubborn and brilliant, from Rae and Cliff and Dorothy and Edward.

I am from creative and crafty, plumbers and pipe fitters, working with hands and loving with all your being.

From "cold hands, warm heart" and "watch out for the quiet ones".

I am from daily Mass, rosaries, and the Father the Son and the Holy Spirit, from a Congregational church in the middle of town, from choir practice and red robes with gold sashes.

I'm from Johnstown and West Virginia and Ohio, from Germany and Whales and Ireland, warm German potato salad and spice cake with cream cheese frosting.

From the day Toby got stuck in a snowdrift- mom taking pictures before rescuing, gin rummy with Grammy, The Flood, the crayon on the wall and Cliff's bike accident near graduation day.

I am from the albums in Florida, quilts made by my grandmothers and mother, from Blueberries for Sal and Where the Sidewalk Ends. From the hutch, and glass candy jars now filled with buttons, from soup bowls with surprises on the bottom, the pachinko machine and the porch swing. From bits of memories and fragments of stories, cracks filled by pictures - the collages on paneling.

From East Coast and almost Colorado. From Bob and Tee, Cliff Ave and home sweet school. I'm from moving boxes and pictures hung on the wall, from Christmas morning not starting until 7am, from Stromboli and oatmeal raisin cookies.

I'm from comfort and warmth. From love.

{this writing exercise has been going around... I'm linking up with Bigger Picture Blogs and their Writing Me activity... join us!}

On writing...

2011-09-13T15:43:00.004-04:00

I miss writing. I haven't done much of it lately. I told my husband over the weekend that I missed writing... I told one of my dearest friends... and so now I've told you all. I miss it. Last year around this time the writing got harder. It felt like either sink or swim, and I was sinking, so I chose to grab hold of a life preserver knitted with books and sobriety and yarn and a new business and a move. My arms weren't ready to extend and pull with the water.

And I left the writing behind.

Not fully.

But enough to make me think to myself - no, I'm not a writer anymore. I don't want to be.

But I do.

So I lift up my heart and prayers and ask for some sign, some hint to let myself explore the creativity that longs to come out... the inner dialog that keeps me company throughout the day and never stops.

Rumors of Water is read. My heart towards the process softens.

And then Heather writes about a writing link up. Freewriting. And I know that the words are begging to come to the surface again.

So I write.

{thank you Heather... linking up with Heather's Just Write... hope you'll do the same!}

Tea for two

2011-09-12T19:10:00.002-04:00

{probably everyone and their mother knows by now... but my phone went for a swim in my beloved ocean last week... so my phone - and internet - is limited these days to when I'm mooching off of a friend or my husband is home... should have a phone in my hands later this week!}

{and thanks for all of your support about the article... you guys rock. I wish I could say it better than that, but the kids sucked my energy today, and I've got nothing left! So yeah. You guys rock.}

Today was day three of preschool for Fynn.

Paige and I are still getting the hang of being just the two of us. It's a little weird. But kind of cool.

We had plans the last two days, but today we were able to hang out at home and have a tea party. With real tea. And poetry. And cookies. And cheese sticks {what's a party without cheese sticks??}

I've lost my photography mojo recently, so some of the pictures are a bit blurry... but this one is my favorite:

Is anyone else singing "tea for two... and two for tea..." {if you weren't already, you probably are now!}

Nothing like a little Frost read outloud, slowly, with your favorite little girl and some licorice tea to make you go aaahhhhhhh. It was good.

There's a tea party on the agenda for every day until the end of time...
and I don't mind.

Confessions

2011-09-11T18:20:00.003-04:00

This morning I was at the grocery store, stocking up on bread and toilet paper and juice boxes... and finally made it to the checkout line. Then I remembered. I looked at the magazine racks, and there it was.

The October edition of Redbook.

Last year Heather, Ellie, Deb and I were interviewed for Redbook magazine. We're featured in interviews about how we got sober, how blogging brought us all together... it's a piece about motherhood, bogging, and alcoholism. {sorry to dissapoint if you thought I was the one giving anti aging miracle advice or if I worked out enough to be on the cover of a magazine with arms and abs like Jillian Michaels!)

It's really strange to see our pictures in the magazine. I'll just tell you that. I'll also say that I'm definitely struggling with my own demons, in being different and owning up to it. But this, this is something that I could do to possibly help others in the same situation, to break down the stigma. The hope for this article is that it resonates with those who need it. Even if it helps one person to know they're not alone, that someone else has been, or is in the same boat. You don't need to hit rock bottom to stop drinking. To ask for help. To communicate with someone that you think your drinking is getting out of hand.

It's also really strange to know that while there's so much of our stories in the piece, there's still a lot that didn't make in into the article, so if you have questions for me, by all means ask! There isn't a link to share online yet {not sure if there will be...} but you should be able to find it wherever magazines are sold if you're interested in reading the article.

First day

2011-09-07T19:36:00.002-04:00

These pictures are totally mandatory, according to the parenting handbook we all live by ;)

{don't mind the blurriness...}

And at preschool. He had this wide eyed deer in front of headlights look as we were getting ready to say goodbye...

{notice the gleaming white sneakers!!}

He did awesome. And we did awesome. And he's excited to go back on Friday, which is also awesome. He even played in a marching band with "real instruments!" which is kind of huge as Fynn is not a fan of anyone spontaneously breaking out into song or music or dance... :)

And so it begins. Another first in our pocket.

wishing on the moments

2011-09-05T11:57:00.004-04:00

I'm lounging in bed this morning... my mind wanting to wake, my eyes unwilling.

He's been downstairs with the kids for over an hour, and I hear him climb up the stairs. He comes into bed, and with a grin he taps me on the shoulder and says "tag, you're it!" and so the kids follow and they jump on the bed and ask ten times in a row if we have any donuts and when can we go to the park and will you please get out of bed mommy? mommy? mommy?

And the day starts. The showers, the breakfasts, the laughter. The please focus on your shoes! Out the door, out the door, out the door. Paige. Out. The. Door.

Off to the park and I leave the three to go to the grocery store. I fill my cart with preschool lunches in mind, and I wonder how we got here. How we went from engorged with milk and nursing bras and sweet baby milk breath to lunchboxes and juice boxes and mommy how many sleeps until school?

On my way to unload the groceries at home, I blare Bruce Springsteen as he comes over the radio. Windows down, hair dancing in the wind, feeling a little wild even in the station wagon with a carseat and a booster seat in the back. I'll make a picnic in a moment and head back to the park where my three are playing in a stream... stealing minutes before the next... counting the ones past and wishing on the ones to come...

{totally unrelated to the post... but I've got a sale going on over at my shop... take 25% off your purchase with the code HOLIDAY25, through the end of today :)}

Close to perfect

2011-09-02T13:41:00.003-04:00

This is as close to perfect as any morning goes...

my feet in the waves, favorite shirt, favorite drink {pumpkin latte - happy September!}, warm sunshine mixed with a bit of autumn in the air...

I'm starting to be okay with the fact that I was made perfectly imperfect. And to even trust in that. But this morning, I caught a glimpse of perfection.

And man was it gorgeous.

Sillies

2011-08-30T14:15:00.002-04:00

Quick to listen...

2011-08-28T18:13:00.003-04:00

We prepared. We did. In the back of my head I knew it wasn't going to hit us, really. After the winter we had, in my heart I knew mother nature would be kind to us... as we paid our debt with a moving truck skidding down a driveway backwards, unable to stop, onto a snowy narrow road.

But still, we prepared. And the rain came. And the wind. But our back yard looks fine, and we didn't loose power.

We are thankful.

Not only to be spared, but to have been given a dark, rainy day to be together. Not without it's ups and downs, but still, a nice together day.

My friend Maegan and I have this thing. When one of us is having a rough day the other says "go read your bible!" and then we check back later and the one asks the other if she read it... and the other kind of sighs and says "yes... and of course... it was perfect..."

Just now I read:

My dear brothers, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry...
James 1:19

The perfect thing to read as we head into another week.
Quick to listen indeed.

Bits...

2011-08-26T12:51:00.003-04:00

First things first.
Today is my sobriety date.
Last month I said it was 18 months... but I was ahead of myself. Last month was 16 (not 18... oy...) so this month is 17 months. I love it when my math skills shine through ;)

So yeah. 17 months. I am grateful. Oh so grateful. Mostly because right now the whole not drinking-alcoholism-daily struggle thing is not so much a daily struggle. I still get caught off guard sometimes, like when my neighbor brings over half full bottles of wine from a wine tasting, and offers them for free - the good stuff - because she won't finish them all by herself. And then I stumble with my words... mumble something about a drinking problem... look down and my cheeks turn red... it happens. I try not to be embarrassed by alcoholism, but sometimes I am. Because I'm not the same as everyone else in that respect. Well, really, I am, because I think everyone deals with some shame issues, and inner demons, or have worked through them... and really, we're all the same. Struggling to make it through the day with a bit of grace, and a little bit of hope left as the day comes to an end.

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This picture was taken on Tuesday. I don't take my big camera many places anymore {after using your phone for everything, the big dslr seems so bulky!!} but I took it Tuesday to capture the essence of our summer. In this picture above, Fynn is praying. As soon as we set up our blanket he looked at me and said "mommy, I need to pray to God!" and so he did. He looked at the ocean, closed his eyes, held his hands together and asked God to help keep the waves calm for the day.

And you know what? The waves were calm all day.

Be still my heart...

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I'm reading Donald Miller's A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, and loving it. I read Blue Like Jazz last year, and while it was good, it didn't wow me. This one wows me. At one point he writes:

"I've wondered, though, if one of the reasons we fail to acknowledge the brilliance of life is because we don't want the responsibility inherent in the acknowledgement. We don't want to be characters in a story because characters have to move and breathe and face conflict with courage. And if life isn't remarkable, then we don't have to do any of that; we can bee unwilling victims rather than grateful participants."

There is so much truth in that one paragraph.

Life is good. Brilliant and awe inspiring.