Embracing the glory & mess of the middle parts
I lay my head on the pillow, close my eyes, breathe in through my nose. My thoughts wander over my day, stopping when I remember a moment that brought me joy, or a word I wish was unspoken, and I sit with it, that moment; I cup it, stretch it, hold it up to the light. Where were you in that moment, God? I ask. What do you have to teach to me?Thank you, … Read the rest
Six months ago, I bought my Young Living Premium Starter Kit — admittedly a bit on a whim, partially to see what the hype was about. And you guys: I fell in love. Hard.
I started just by diffusing oils: at bedtimes, mainly, or after a hard day. I immediately noticed improvement in the quality of sleep we get, and how quickly my mood was changed simply by smelling Stress Away (which yes, is exactly … Read the rest
Nothing about this day has gone according to plan. There were unexpected white-outs during my morning commute, one of the headlights in the car went out, I had to choke back tears at the office, and then the pharmacy sent a message that my son’s prescription was to be delayed because the medicine was out of stock and they had to order more.
And this was all before 1 pm.
As I write this, it’s … Read the rest
It’s that time of year again.
January is upon us, bringing with it new year’s resolutions and fresh starts, so naturally I’ve started thinking about #OneWord365 and what word I’m going to lean into in 2020. Some years, I choose the word with intentionality, a specific goal in mind. Other years, the word chooses me. It comes to me unexpectedly: the first thought upon waking in the morning, while mindlessly washing breakfast dishes or, … Read the rest
We sit at the table, worn thin from walking so precariously around one another—like on glass, dancing around all the issues because none of us have the language to talk about them, to talk about the pushing away, the protective walls we’ve built, the angry outbursts, the tears at the breakfast table, the locked doors, the concerns about affection, the trauma, the loss, the worry of getting it all wrong, the fear of rejection, the … Read the rest
I keep the door to her bedroom closed.
My husband or son will open it once in a while, draw back the curtains, trying to let the light in. But there’s something that seems right and seems true for me about having it shrouded in blackness; tucked away, out of sight. Not forgotten, necessarily–but almost. It’s how my heart feels these days. Hidden. Dark. Cold.
She was supposed to be here by now. But … Read the rest
I found my first gray hair when I was 22. I was knee-deep in trauma and stress at the time, and I remember that I was inspecting the dark circles under my eyes when I saw it: a silver coil, right in the middle of my part. Graying early in life is hereditary, I’ve heard, and I have a memory of my Papa telling me once that his hair had started going white before he … Read the rest
About a month ago, I started thinking about what I wanted my one word for the new year to be. I had my own ideas, of course, about how I’d like the year to go, and words like travel or beauty, family, even gather, swirled in my mind, even as I recognized those weren’t the words mine to grab hold of. See, my one word has a tendency to choose me. It comes … Read the rest
Wednesdays are my favorite day of the week.
I realize that, when asked, most people would say Friday, because it’s on the cusp of the weekend, or maybe even Monday, because it smells like opportunity, and setting lofty goals for the week. I used to be like that, too. But now, every Sunday evening, when I pull out the calendar and map out our family’s meetings and appointments and church services and scheduling needs, I … Read the rest
I wake before the sun most mornings. I keep my eyes closed a few moments longer, relishing the dark and the quiet, the warmth of a blanket on my bare feet, my arm outstretched under a pillow.
I’ve always been an early riser, partly due to the fact I rarely stay up late in the evenings. (The exception, I think, has been the past couple of years, when Atticus’ sleep schedules have been erratic, or … Read the rest
