Spring legs

I am a homebody. I am also a detester of all that is cold or rainy or snowy. In the chilly seasons, those two forces combine to leave me hibernating in the comfort of my home as much as I can get away with it.

But now it's spring (glorious delightful sunny spring) and the sunshine is calling. Wake up, come out, enjoy. The vegetable garden has been turned and weeded and half-planted, the nearby nature park has been explored, and picnics at the beach and the park have been eaten. We're getting out there even when it's hard for me to find the motivation. Just go, I remind myself. You're always happier when you do.

The only problem is that I've got spring legs. They're weak and wimpy and achy, and they complain all the day long after being well used. I garden and my thighs ache. I hike and my calves ache. I sit in the sun and they turn red. They're sad, sorry, grumbly legs after spending the winter curled up under a blanket, a mug of tea and a book and often a child or two resting on them.

But still the sunshine pulls and the kids push and I find myself outside once again. Muscles work and then they ache but they'll get used to it. I will press through the wimpy spring legs until I arrive at summer legs, tanned and strong and - bonus - more defined and lovely. They'll walk through sand and hilly trails and water and autumn leaves and then winter will come and I can pretend I'll keep getting out there, but I won't. Those legs will curl up under a blanket once again and this is simply who I am, the one who steps outside into the sunshine a few months later with weak spring legs, ready to press through to strength one more time.

Just writing along with the EO...

When it's just you and the kids on Mother's Day

With the much-missed husband working out of town right now, it's just me and the kids this Mother's Day. And you know, that's life; it's not as though he deliberately chose to be away on this particular day. We've been chatting on the phone and messaging back and forth, and we're all managing just fine.

Now don't believe for a moment that I haven't allowed myself a few moments of self-pity. It's not often a day comes along devoted to honouring the mothers in our lives. Most days we quietly serve our family and watching these kids grow is more than reward enough, but a day especially for us? I'm not going to turn that down.

When reality doesn't match our ideals (as it so often doesn't), there's not much to do but make the best of it. And make the best of it I shall.

For me, that means that Mother's Day dinner will be take-out pizza and a nice cold glass of Coca Cola - it's been a long time since I last indulged that way. Then it's dirt cake for dessert, and oh, how I blushed at all that junk food rolling along the conveyor belt at the grocery store last week. Worth it, though. I do love a good dirt cake every once in a while, and there are few things kids find funnier than (gummy) worms to top it all off.

We'll spread our picnic blanket over the couch and watch a movie together while we eat and I won't feel guilty for a bit of it. This is my day and I intend to enjoy a bit of relaxation. A nice afternoon nap, I think, and we'll see if I can't wrangle some breakfast in bed out of these three wild creatures of mine.

A little extra housework tonight will be a nice reward in the morning too. I will wake to freshly-swept floors and tidy rooms and a sparkling kitchen, and it will all have been more than worth it.

If it's just you and the kids this Mother's Day, go ahead and, where possible, give yourself permission to relax and have things your way. Pick that coveted meal even if the kids hate it. Put your feet up and read your own book instead of theirs. Take a few extra minutes in the shower. Dress up or dress down, whatever makes you feel happiest. And if you've got a bit of extra time before you turn off the lights tonight, give the house a quick once-over so you can wake to that little extra bit of peace and calm.

Go ahead. If there's no one else around to do it, thank yourself for all that you do.

Happy Mother's Day to all of us.

What I Am Into - April 2014

What I Am Into :: April 2014
April has been lovely. Our weeks have been peaceful and quiet, the weather has been a nice mix of warm days and rainy days, the boy turned seven, and of course there was Easter as well.

This weekend the husband ran in a 10K race; the picture above testifies to the long, chilly wait the kids and I had while the participants were released in waves. Once he began, we warmed up in a coffee shop for a while, then hiked 5K around downtown to cheer him on at the midpoint and the finish line. Between the baby on my back and the one growing in my belly, I rather felt like I'd participated in quite an event myself. The husband and I are still bemoaning our various aches and pains, while the boys were ready to do it again by the time we got back home. Apparently I'm not nearly as in shape as I'd like to pretend I am.

Our Easter:

Good Friday was filled with frustrations: hot cross buns that failed to rise, buttonholes that refused to do as I wanted them to on baby girl's new dress, a lackluster dinner, nothing turned out quite right.

Easter Sunday was beautiful. The church service was full of promise that maybe, maybe, this is the home for us. There was joy on the kids' faces as we held our own celebrations at home afterwards, baby girl gathering up her armfuls of eggs and then opening them all, one after the other, shoving raisins in her mouth and hair clips in her hair. The boys were more judicious but no less excited. The bread rose beautifully and dinner came together well.

It was a fitting contrast. Only the weather did not bend to expectations, dawning bright and sunny on Friday while the clouds stubbornly refused to yield on Sunday. The days after Easter, though, felt lovely and fresh and new.

On My Nightstand:

After finishing Cannon's Just Spirituality, I went on a brief fiction binge. I devoured Cynthia Voigt's A Solitary Blue over the course of two evenings, then picked up Emma Donoghue's Room from the library and spent another couple of days glued to the pages of that book as well. The narrative was absolutely fascinating and I was sorry when it was finished.

Next up was Malcolm Gladwell's Outliers: The Story of Success. It was an interesting read - all of the cases were engrossing, and it certainly provided a unique perspective on things - but I felt dissatisfied when I put the book down. I think that, ultimately, I simply disagree with Gladwell's very definition of "success", which led to me bristling at a few points as I read through his accounts.

Now I've picked up Jennifer Worth's Call the Midwife again. I hadn't been able to get into it last time I opened it, but I have not had that same trouble this time at all. I'm thoroughly enjoying it and glad to have two more waiting for me when this first one is finished.

On the screen:

How I Met Your Mother is - mercifully, at long last, thank you thank you thank you - over. The husband and I enjoyed the first seasons of it, but eventually it lost a certain something and it's kind of ridiculous that we even continued to watch it, but we did because could we please just see how the story ends? Please? Anyway. It's over, and there's only relief about that here.

Now that Downton Abbey, Doctor Who, and Sherlock are all on pause, we're feeling a bit lacking in options for those evenings when we just want to veg in front of a show. So we're going to give Foyle's War and Parenthood each a shot, see if we can't find a new series to binge-watch for a while. I also intend to watch Miranda when I next have some evenings to myself; it will be something to look forward to while the husband is away for a couple of weeks.

In My Kitchen:

Easter weekend was a bit of a bread weekend for me. There were Earl Grey hot cross buns on Friday, rosemary olive oil bread on Saturday, and a delicious french bread loaf on Sunday; I felt like I spent a great deal of the weekend with my hands in dough. It was quite nice, actually, particularly on the last two days when I used a jar of yeast that was still active. That's what I get for not proofing my yeast the first day.

In My Ears:

I have most recently been captivated by Sandra McCracken's Thy Mercy, My God, and when it's not playing on repeat, I'm listening to the rest of my Hymns playlist. In the evenings, the husband and I have been alternating between The Beatles and Doctor Who albums (Series 5 and Series 6).

What I'm Looking Forward to in May:

I'm very excited about the beautiful temperatures currently forecast for the first days of May. There are few things I enjoy more than being outside in the warm sunshine. I avoid the cold and the rain when I can, but I'm all about those soaring temperatures. Bring on the lawn chairs and the iced tea and the picnics; I'm so ready.

Well, friends, that is What I've Been Into this past month. What about you?

Linking up to What I'm Into with HopefulLeigh...

40 Days of Gratitude: Days 38-40

There are moments when I'm left breathless with gratitude, but the moment passes and I forget too easily that it happened. I need to write it down. I tell myself that often and yet I never seem to get around to opening that notebook of mine, even with fresh paper and new pens and more than enough time in my day for this one small-yet-big thing.

What better time than Lent to return to this practice of recording gratitude?

- 40 Days of Gratitude

_____________________

First there was the sound of a can of compressed air being used in the bathroom, followed soon after by the sound of my hair dryer. I walked down the hallway and turned the corner and there was the husband, blowing hot air at nothing at all.

I asked him, bewildered, what he was doing.

"Cleaning out the vents in your hair dryer. Much more lint in there and it was going to turn into a heat gun."

My first thought upon hearing this was, write it down. Write it down, add it to the list, don't forget this moment because this is a gift right here. To have him notice the little things that I would never consider, to be cared about in practical yet no less meaningful ways - it's a gift.

He put the hair dryer down and we all left for a Good Friday service at (yet another) new church. It's been a year now and we're as homeless as ever. We try and we give up and we try again and I'm tired of trying, I just want a pew to sink into every week, to worship and fellowship and is this so much to ask? This one small grace?

I always panic when we pull up to a new possibility. I look at my husband and he reads it in my eyes, and he's not feeling so sure either. We'd drive away if it was just us, I know we would, just two big introverted chickens we are. But the kids are waiting expectantly in the backseat, so we squeeze each other's hand and step over one more unfamiliar threshold.

This one, though...it felt good. Maybe. It's often hard to tell after that first visit (other times, though, one visit is more than enough to tell us what we need to know). We're not holding our breath but we'll be back there tomorrow for Easter Sunday and that's all we can do, go back until we know one way or another. But this Good Friday service? It, too, gets written down. Thank you.

This is what the past 40 days have done to me. Write it down, I think it time and time again as I go about my day. Notice. Remember. Write it down. Cultivate this spirit of gratitude. Find the grace in it all, the good stuff and the hard stuff, and write it down.

384. Preparing. Anticipation.

387. Silent doors, and a husband who makes them so.

388. Baby girl's word explosion.

390. My sewing machine.

396. Clarity. Learning from past assumptions.

398. Hot cross buns. Rosemary olive oil bread.

399. Fellowship.

And you? A moment of gratitude, something from your list, a link to your own gratitude journey? I love reading every bit that you share with us.

40 Days of Gratitude: Days 32-37

There are moments when I'm left breathless with gratitude, but the moment passes and I forget too easily that it happened. I need to write it down. I tell myself that often and yet I never seem to get around to opening that notebook of mine, even with fresh paper and new pens and more than enough time in my day for this one small-yet-big thing.

What better time than Lent to return to this practice of recording gratitude?

- 40 Days of Gratitude

_____________________

It's Holy Week and I'm wholly stressed. A certain boy turns seven years old today and Easter is fast approaching and I've got an Easter dress to finish sewing for baby girl and the preschooler is having a challenging week and I must remind myself, always always, that he doesn't do this to me. He's the one having a hard time, and it's my responsibility and privilege to slow down and help him through it. Still, there are birthday presents to wrap and Easter bags to sew and plastic eggs to stuff, and I'm a bit tired already.

I can feel Good Friday approaching. Perhaps a portion of my busyness is to ward off the sense of mourning that accompanies the solemnity of the day. A quiet Saturday afterwards, and then, joyous day, He is Risen! But first, there's Good Friday.

But first, today, there is a delightful seven year old to celebrate. There will be a rainy walk through the nearby nature park, the excitement of long-desired gifts to be opened, and quinoa chocolate cake with blueberries for dessert.

Today will be a good day.

376. Perspective.

378. Going to a craft show with the boy. Getting to spend time with one child.

379. The husband taking over when I'm worn out. Having a partner in life.

382. My delightful seven-year-old boy and his excitement over his birthday.

383. Watching the preschooler and baby girl interact. Their bubbling laughter and sweet hugs.

And you? A moment of gratitude, something from your list, a link to your own gratitude journey? I love reading every bit that you share with us.

Weekend Reading {vol. 110}

When I Can't Do Enough @ A Deeper Family

I prayed. I let my heart hurt for the fallen world where little ones get sick, and so much worse happens, and begged for healing for all of us. I listened to her breathing, alert for any change, relieved that it seemed fine again.

This morning she woke up, full of beans and bouncing around. I asked if she knew I was holding her during the night. “No, but I could feel you loving me.”

Why Confessing Our Sin to Our Children is So Important @ SortaCrunchy

This confessional script creates space for these things:

1) It acknowledges why my action was sin, and it gives my children a vocabulary for confessing their own sin. It translates sin from some big, bad word we only talk about at church into an everyday part of conversation as a family.

2) Humility, humility, humility. It reinforces my humble need for Jesus in every moment of my life.

3) It empowers my children in the process of repairing our relationship.

When I Ask Myself, "Why Do I Still Go To Church?" @ A Deeper Church

Sometimes I ask myself why I still go to church, why my wife and I still wake up on a Sunday morning and wrangle our four kids and one-on-the-way into the car and drive thirty-five minutes. Why, instead of sleeping in or getting things done around the house, do I spend these Sunday mornings teaching elementary school age kids about God or sitting in a chair in a building where nothing seems to be happening? All around me people are just showing up, and I’m not sure why.

Why do I still go to church? I ask myself. Why don’t I cut loose from this obligation? What am I waiting for?

Something amazing, I guess.

What is a Family? @ Practicing Mammal

Blessed Pope John Paul is so much pithier, but here's a re write on "an intimate community of life and love."

"A family is people in close, warm, personal relationship all sharing a common good, primarily the love of God and a desire to bring one another to holiness and ultimately heaven. The family produces life, through the love of the parents and their union, and life through the love they pour out to each other; life meaning the joy of shared love. Their familial affection drives them to selflessness. Love the ACT. The selflessness is God made manifest in our daily lives. Close communities that practice selfless love, tenderness and, because of this, become a reflection of God."

That's what a family is.

40 Days of Gratitude: Days 26-31

There are moments when I'm left breathless with gratitude, but the moment passes and I forget too easily that it happened. I need to write it down. I tell myself that often and yet I never seem to get around to opening that notebook of mine, even with fresh paper and new pens and more than enough time in my day for this one small-yet-big thing.

What better time than Lent to return to this practice of recording gratitude?

- 40 Days of Gratitude

_____________________

I woke up before dawn yesterday morning. The demands of a pregnancy bladder outweighed my desire to stay warm, but I was soon back under the covers. Of course, that's when my over-anxious brain decided to worry about All The Things. Two hours later, my husband was in the shower and I was still wide awake. I gave up.

In the kitchen, I put the cast iron pan on the burner. I was craving eggs, and I was willing to bet that man in the shower wouldn't say no to a nice warm breakfast either. I was right, and we enjoyed a lovely quiet breakfast together before he had to go.

Somehow all three children were still asleep, so after puttering around for a bit, I settled into my favourite chair with my favourite quilt and my favourite mug full of black tea. I opened my Bible to where I had last left off - Ezekiel 33 - and uncapped my pen.

Only 11 verses in, I discover yet another gift my childhood in the Anglican church has given me:

"As I live," says the Lord God, "I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but that the wicked turn from his way and live. Turn, turn from your evil ways! For why should you die, O house of Israel?"

How very many times it has happened that words I have known since I was a little girl, words of hope and love and mercy woven into the prayers that we said together every week, should appear in the very Word of God Himself? How little I realized the amount of Scripture that was placed deep in my heart through this weekly liturgy! For that gift, of which I have yet to discover its extent, I am grateful.

356. Finding the perfect gift.

358. Baby girl dressing up as a knight.

359. Healing foods. Comfort foods.

364. The library's hold system.

365. A rainy day inside after a stretch of lovely sunny days.

373. A good ultrasound. Curled baby fists and kicking legs.

And you? A moment of gratitude, something from your list, a link to your own gratitude journey? I love reading every bit that you share with us.