She likes...

She likes peace. Because her Mama talks of peace often: her dreams of peace, her desire for peace.  World peace, peace in relationship, internal peace.  Peace connects her and her Mama.

She likes food.  Grown up food, especially homemade food.  Because her Mama thinks homegrown, homemade is healthy, important, a special gift she can give her children.  Food connects her and her Mama.

She likes tea.  Because it calms her as she settles for the night.  She and her Mama drink their tea together.  It's an evening ritual.  Tea connects her and her Mama.

She likes to write.  Telling stories on paper somehow gives life to her thoughts.  Her Mama likes to write, too.  Writing connects her and her Mama.

She likes to read. Out loud to her baby sister.  Conquering hard words with triumph.  Soaking in the story.  Her Mama loves to listen to her read.  Reading connects her and her Mama.

She likes to breathe.  A slow meditative breath that calms the mind and soul.  She softens beautifully when she and her Mama breathe together.  Such tender moments designed intentionally to calm her anxiety or help her through illness.  Breathing connects her and her Mama.

Then again, breathing connects all of life.

recycling memories

This post was inspired by Lady Cordelia who writes about the new passions in her life, including thrifting.

The memory popped into my mind with such a sense of familiarity I couldn't believe I hadn't made the connection before. 

For five years now, my mother and I have saved our treasures, set up tables, priced items, prepared our change, greeted strange faces, endured the rain, sun, or sweltering heat, and counted our earnings at the end of two days.  Yep, that's the annual garage sale.

We've done it each year because I have growing babies who leave behind large toys, furniture, supplies, and clothes.  Piles and piles of clothes.  Those items that will suit others quite well because they've been little used.  We do it because I love to declutter on a regular basis and so does she.  We do it because the little bit of cash we earn helps create some amazing summer-fun memories for my children - ice cream, swimming at the community pool, amusement parks, baseball games.  We do it because I can't bear to throw things away that someone else may want, need, or use in creative ways. 

I don't have babies anymore and older children don't have big stuff.  The stock has dwindled, leaving us asking each other if we should do it again next year.  We do manage to pull items together, but it is not much.  We ask this question as the crowd quiets down at the end of day two.  We are tired and hot.  

This year, my mother's response to my asking: I don't do this because I need to.  I do it because I enjoy doing it with you.

And there is the memory - my mother and her mother.  Each summer for many.  In my grandmother's driveway.  Both women, notepad in hand, on which are placed color-coded pricing stickers.  A metal lock box for their earnings and for making change.  The tables and tables of items needing a new home and hoping not to be destined for the landfill (or burn pile as was the case at Grandma's).  The chatter and buzzing from the customers.  The small town hellos and gossip.  The kids, me and my cousins, running around, playing on the side of the house, enjoying our lazy summer days.

Perhaps memories can be recycled as well.  A memory, remade into a new one.  A time shared by two women of one generation, then repeated in the next.  Isn't it funny how life somehow means more in a memory or the sharing of a memory than in the thing itself?  In this simple garage sale, I've stumbled on a real treasure - recycling moments and memories with my mother!

my favorite things

Have I told you that my favorite color is purple?

Here are a few reasons why . . .

Each of these purple beauties are in my everyday surroundings - my commute, my home, my parent's gardens.  Each of these spaces is a little safe haven filled with Creation.  Each safe haven serves to help me feel more and more connected with the world around me.  A simple color which holds so much!

What's your favorite color?

growing together

Our garden is growing.  Well not like green-things-coming-out-of-the-grown-yet kind of growing.  I mean we are planning to grow more and different things this year.  With such a warm and unusual Spring, the itch to get out and get planting is so strong.  And I know there are some vegetables that like cooler weather.  

So, we planted.  And by we, I mean me and the littles.  They really are great helpers, you know.  Oh. so. much. fun.

We borrowed the salad table idea from this friend and started garlic last Fall.  It's come up quite nicely.  With this planting we've added green onions, arugula, and mesclun.

Together, we mixed the soil.  Planted seeds.

 Watered.

 Labeled.

 And now we wait patiently for yummy Spring vegetables.  Oh. I. can. hardly. wait.

sweet lessons

What a glorious day it has been!

75 degrees and sunshine on this very first day of Spring.  Seasonally unusual, they say.  I'm 38 years old and I cannot recall a start to Spring that has been as graceful, as colorful, as welcoming!

So I played hooky.  Ahem.  Not exactly, but I did volunteer to chaperone eight second graders on their maple sugaring field trip.  This is a first for us and having read Amanda,who writes so beautifully about the community inherent in the traditions of maple sugaring, we were quite excited.

I was so impressed and a little intimidated by what these second graders knew.  As we traveled station to station through the sugaring trail, they answered questions about American history, identified trees, predicted new inventions and materials used to make sugaring more efficient.  Smart little people, they are.

I quickly realized that they weren't the only smart creatures that required a bit of attention and reflection.  It occurred to me that every bit of nature is as smart as these little people and far more wise than humanity.

The flowers. They know when it's time to wake their nesting bulbs and peer through the earth.

The birds. They know when it's warm enough to fly north.

The trees. They know how to store food during winter and exactly when and where to deliver that food store as the days grow longer and warmer.

Totally in synch with the earth and the seasons.  It's probably six weeks early this year.  But, each and every creature knows that it is time.

I stood awe-struck at the wisdom of nature.  What lessons we can learn!

I've been thinking, for quite a while now, about the idea of being called.  As I walked through the woods today I wondered what inside each tree prompts it to awaken.  Does it have a calling, a sense of something larger than itself compelling it to do what it does?  

I wondered if being called and honoring that calling could really be so simple.

The notion of being called brings my mind immediately to religious icons such as Mother Teresa.  In her stories and others, I always imagine a calling to be quite clear.  Somewhat of a "slap me over the head with it" kind of knowing.  

I also imagine that being called amounts to something big - something really big - for example, the legacies of Ghandi or Martin Luther King.  I wonder if being called was as clear and convincing and compelling as it seems only knowing their stories.

It, too, seems to me that nature knows its place and purpose.  It seems to me that nature keeps itself open to possibility.  It seems to me that nature remains connected in ways that make fulfilling its purpose possible.  It seems to me that nature does not get in its own way.  

It simply becomes what it is supposed to be. Perhaps that is the sweetest lesson of all!

gratitude - day three

I've recently found God in a place that should not surprise me - nature.  The diversity of color, the calming peace of water, the guiding light of a full moon, the intricacy of a spider web all speak of a connectedness I can only attribute to a Creator.  Spending time in nature brings clarity, renewed spirit, and a greater sense of being intimately connected with something far greater than I.  I am thankful I've taken the time to see - truly see - the glorious nature around me.  

In the green of the grass and the quiet hum of the early morning breeze, I've also developed a yearning to bring only this nature to our table.  It feels good and whole and right for my family, but it also feels like the Earth has asked me to do this.  Each time I prepare a meal that comes from the Earth I hear a sigh of thankfulness from all that surrounds me.  

Nature, connection, sustenance, Earth - for these, I am thankful!