{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
Welcoming the sun and warm weather!
Friday, May 31, 2013
this moment {my first bike}
Linking with SouleMamma and many others:
{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
Welcoming the sun and warm weather!
{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
Welcoming the sun and warm weather!
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
affirmation: a balancing act
You may know that this has been a time of transition for me. I elected to change positions earlier this semester and knew that the energy required would impact my way of being in every part of my life. And, so it has.
Papa Bear and I have had to rethink dinner, homework and weeknight activities. We've had to rethink church and religious education commitments. We've adjusted for nighttime meetings and weekend events on campus. We've had to be intentional with the time we do have together. I've taken days off to be home when the kids have no school. I'm working to adapt my summer schedule to be home earlier as well. It's a balancing act, to be sure.
Some things had to go. If I was to spend my time and energy on my own professional development, this "me time" in this space had to take a back seat. I offer that not as excuse, not because I feel guilty, but because it simply had to be. Perhaps I've learned through this transition something different than many transitions before. I CANNOT have it all!
After many wonderful evenings with students and a whirlwind of new activities, student leaders, and events, along came an affirmation. One that I needed in a moment of sheer exhaustion. Students honored the balance I've attempted to achieve. They honored me in front of the world (or at least our little world of campus). In a silent attempt to honor the greatness of all people who make our academic community work, they celebrated me, and my motherhood, and my professional life, and the balance that holds all three together.
I like to pride myself on my ability to succeed and persist based on my own internal motivation to do so. But, I have to be honest. Knowing others see what I've hoped to BE is a wonderful feeling, one for which I am truly grateful.
Papa Bear and I have had to rethink dinner, homework and weeknight activities. We've had to rethink church and religious education commitments. We've adjusted for nighttime meetings and weekend events on campus. We've had to be intentional with the time we do have together. I've taken days off to be home when the kids have no school. I'm working to adapt my summer schedule to be home earlier as well. It's a balancing act, to be sure.
Some things had to go. If I was to spend my time and energy on my own professional development, this "me time" in this space had to take a back seat. I offer that not as excuse, not because I feel guilty, but because it simply had to be. Perhaps I've learned through this transition something different than many transitions before. I CANNOT have it all!
After many wonderful evenings with students and a whirlwind of new activities, student leaders, and events, along came an affirmation. One that I needed in a moment of sheer exhaustion. Students honored the balance I've attempted to achieve. They honored me in front of the world (or at least our little world of campus). In a silent attempt to honor the greatness of all people who make our academic community work, they celebrated me, and my motherhood, and my professional life, and the balance that holds all three together.
I like to pride myself on my ability to succeed and persist based on my own internal motivation to do so. But, I have to be honest. Knowing others see what I've hoped to BE is a wonderful feeling, one for which I am truly grateful.
Saturday, May 25, 2013
a cold spell
(No, I'm not writing of my absence in this space that could be aptly named with the same title as this post.)
A low of 32 degrees. . . .a freeze warning. . . .followed by a frost warning for the next two nights. . . .
Yep, it's a cold spell. Exactly one week after some documented "last possible frost dates" in our zone. Hmph!
And, exactly one week after we introduced all of the starter plants to their new habitat. Hmph x2!
So, we donned our winter coats and headed out to protect those little plants. It was quite a sight to see our garden space look as though we had tucked our plants in for the night. Of course, this effort required a little creativity, a little ingenuity, making useful the many rocks we've been picking out of our soil one-by-one, finding new uses for tent anchors, buckets, empty pots.
Funny how this simple act of nurture offered such a parallel example for much of life. We are not in control. We can sow seeds, we can water, we can provide food, but we cannot offer sun and warmth or protect completely from cold. We can hope and have faith, but in the end, Mother Nature will do as she must.
We can only respond in openness to all she gifts us.
And, yes, this cold spell will bring with it benefits that we cannot see or understand. Yes, this cold spell will force us inside to snuggle with our children. Yes, this cold spell will cause us to slow, if only for a moment. And these precious moments are gift enough for me to exert the necessary effort to protect those vulnerable plants and rest in the knowledge that life will go on.
A low of 32 degrees. . . .a freeze warning. . . .followed by a frost warning for the next two nights. . . .
Yep, it's a cold spell. Exactly one week after some documented "last possible frost dates" in our zone. Hmph!
And, exactly one week after we introduced all of the starter plants to their new habitat. Hmph x2!
So, we donned our winter coats and headed out to protect those little plants. It was quite a sight to see our garden space look as though we had tucked our plants in for the night. Of course, this effort required a little creativity, a little ingenuity, making useful the many rocks we've been picking out of our soil one-by-one, finding new uses for tent anchors, buckets, empty pots.
Funny how this simple act of nurture offered such a parallel example for much of life. We are not in control. We can sow seeds, we can water, we can provide food, but we cannot offer sun and warmth or protect completely from cold. We can hope and have faith, but in the end, Mother Nature will do as she must.
We can only respond in openness to all she gifts us.
And, yes, this cold spell will bring with it benefits that we cannot see or understand. Yes, this cold spell will force us inside to snuggle with our children. Yes, this cold spell will cause us to slow, if only for a moment. And these precious moments are gift enough for me to exert the necessary effort to protect those vulnerable plants and rest in the knowledge that life will go on.
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