Why I am NOT in Love with Summer

Because it ends.

Why I Am in Love with Summer #3

I adore our summer sunsets. I am seriously in love with them. They are this glorious most of the time.

(Side note: When we moved in, my vision was always drawn to the refineries at the base of our mountain. I hated the refineries. I'm still not a fan, but I've found that as I lift my vision to see the abundant (and obvious) beauty of the lake, the mountains, the skies, the sunsets, I barely notice their ugliness. My wish? That I can learn to do that with all the rest of my life: all places, all situations, all people.)

summer thought wanderings

My house is covered in Lincoln Logs and Playmobil.

My children are singing to the radio in the kitchen in the middle of the breakfast and lunch dishes (and it's 1:49 pm).

I have a piano blog post that was due on the 14th that hasn't been written yet.

I didn't get up early and exercise.

My laundry is scattered over many household surfaces.

The weeding hasn't been done since Friday.

And ya know what?

I think I'm OK with all it.

(Well, not really. I'm really anxious about all of it, but I'm trying to tell myself I'm OK with it.)

If I tell myself I'm OK with it for long enough, will it come true?



Summer is half over. It makes me sad.

Josh turns 16 in less than two weeks. In less than two years, he'll have graduated.

Time's running out.

I think I'm OK with that, too.


(Not really, again.)




I'm trying to learn to live in the moment, desireless.

It's not always working out so well. Right now I have the desire for a clean house, a flatter stomach, and a big fat fresh chocolate chip cookie...oh, I mean a sugarless nasty green smoothie...OK, really a cookie.

I also desire mad improvising skills.

I also desire that that one person who hates me will get over it. Cuz really, it's stupid to hate me. It's like hating cheese. Cheese isn't perfect (it can make you fat or it can make you sick if you're lactose intolerant), but it's also just cheese. It can't help its fat content or its lactose. And even though it has its drawbacks, it's super yummy on pizza, and overall isn't truly evil.

Yes, I just compared myself to cheese. So maybe she's right to hate me.

Where was I? Oh, yes...I was saying that when I am slightly, almost desireless, it is very freeing.

Here's some wisdom from the Tao:

There is a time for being ahead,
a time for being behind;
a time for being in motion,
a time for being at rest;
a time for being vigorous,
a time for being exhausted;
a time for being safe,
a time for being in danger.

The Master sees things as they are,
without trying to control them.
She lets them go their own way,
and resides at the center of the circle.

I read this and copied it in my scripture journal a couple of weeks ago. I've been pondering it here and there. I'm working on letting things go their own way and becoming an observer. (And isn't WORKING at observing, being peaceful, and allowing things to go their own way an oxymoron?)

I've become such a good observer that I backed into a pole in the parking garage at Westminster College today.

Doh.

I seriously love summer.

Why I Am in Love with Summer #2

 

Today Ben and Kate finished their first session of swimming lessons at the Tennis and Swim Club up the street. They both passed their levels (Kate goes on to Level 5 and Ben to Level 3.) Kate is a good little swimmer and enjoys the pool, but Ben? Ben adores water. Adores. The minute he is in the water, he is grinning. He grins as he bobs up and down. He grins as he practices floating. He grins as he does big arms or dives to the bottom to pick up a ring.

So overall, swimming lessons have been a major success. I love to watch them learning new skills, especially when they learn them easily and happily.

As a treat for completing their lessons, they each got to choose something from the freezer at the club. Then they asked if they could walk home. I told them I'd meet them at the bottom of the hill to help them cross the busy road, but that they could. 

So hand in hand, they walked across the parking lot and down the driveway, eating their dripping chocolate Creamies. And my heart sang.

I don't know what it was about that exact moment, that exact scene. The fact that they both felt so capable, so strong after working hard for two weeks? That they had been so darling to watch? That they love each other enough to hold hands? That the sun was beaming down and the wind was NOT blowing (thankfully, after way too much wind for way too many days)? But somehow, in that moment, I felt a rush of love, of satisfaction, of peace, and I thought: "If this is all there is, if my life stopped today, I would feel like it was enough. This moment is payment for so much."

I don't know why. It was just two children in swimsuits walking home, eating Creamies, holding hands.

But it was magic.

And that's another reason I love summer.

Confessions of a Five-Year-Old Worrier

Benno is on a "self-tattling" streak. These are some of the things we hear all day long:

     "I said a potty word." (This is generally "butt." Sometimes it is "poopy.")

     "I thought a bad word." (This is usually taking the Lord's name in vain, which he heard on an HGTV show and used promptly, much to the horror of Miss Kate.)

     "I watched Spongebob at Zach's. But only for a minute."

     "I went into the street."

     "I was mean to Zach."

     "I went past the stop sign."

     "I scratched (or hit or pinched) Lacey (or Kate, or William.)"

     "I was playing a hitting game."

He runs inside from playing, confesses, takes his discipline, and heads back out until the next incident. And the next incident is usually just a few minutes later.

Totally darling? Umm, yes. But also a little worrying, thanks to the angst in his voice in these confessional moments. Our poor little man is very disturbed about his inability to stop himself from making mistakes, and while I am often hiding a smile while asking him to take a time out on the stairs, I really worry a little that he will have a hard time learning to accept himself, flaws and all, as much as we accept him.

It's really very easy to accept him. He's darned cute.

And darned funny.

And apparently, extremely darned honest. (Can I make sure he still has this quality when he's sixteen?)

Two Years



Brett, our almost-brother, and Brent


Can you just take a look at that grin? Does it take your breath away like it does mine? When I saw this picture earlier this week after Brett posted it to my Facebook wall, I was shocked to immediately burst into tears. It was the grin that stabbed me in the heart, that infectious grin that I haven't seen for two years. I sat at my kitchen table with saltwater pouring down my face. Sophie saw what was on the screen and put her arm around me. I caught my breath, dried the tears and closed the screen.

We miss him. We miss him dreadfully. It's terrible that he's missed two of his birthdays, two Christmases, two new babies (a niece and a nephew that he would have adored,) not to mention so much laughing, so many conversations, games of Big Boggle, boy movies with all the brothers, brothers-in-law and Josh, family dinners...oh, too too many things.

I've been thinking about the Jack Gilbert poem I posted a few weeks ago, especially these lines:

We must risk delight. We can do without pleasure,
but not delight. Not enjoyment. We must have
the stubbornness to accept our gladness in the ruthless
furnace of this world. To make injustice the only
measure of our attention is to praise the Devil.
If the locomotive of the Lord runs us down,
we should give thanks that the end had magnitude.

So today I decided to delight, to accept my gladness and grab the joy there is all around me, to remember my little brother by living fully and happily. I ran and hiked on another gorgeous trail near our home, talking to him about how much we miss him, how much he would enjoy the kids right now. I bought wildflower seeds to scatter. We nixed the yard work and cleaning. David and I went to breakfast with friends, then took Josh to The Avengers. I took Sophie and a friend to City Creek and to my favorite gelato place. I ate blackberry cobbler. I took pictures of the sunset. We watched a family DVD with the kids. I read to Ben and snuggled Kate. And through it all, I remembered him.
 
One of the hardest lessons I've learned through the last two years is that there is no safe and easy path through life. The world can indeed be a ruthless furnace, but every day we accept that truth and love our time here anyway is a day to celebrate. And so today I celebrated Brent, his life, and the fact that I loved him so much that his loss has created this hole. Holes left in our hearts are the proof of loving recklessly, with abandon, despite the risk of pain. The hole of his life is huge in our family's collective hearts because we loved him hugely. I would rather love hugely and risk huge pain than live a quiet, safer, subdued life with a quiet, safer, subdued heart. I may not have felt that way earlier in this journey, but I now make this conscious choice every day: to love, to cherish, to risk.
 
Rest well, my sweet little brother. You are missed. You are loved.

Why I Am in Love with Summer #1

At 8:40 tonight, Kate ran in the front door with Ben and a crew of neighbor kids in tow as I practiced Schubert.

"We haven't had dinner yet, have we, Mom?"

And the answer to that, dear ones, is no, we haven't.

(In all honesty, no one else has had dinner yet, but I have had a piece of Great Harvest bread, 3/4 of a roll, a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and to add some fruit, a fresh strawberry shake. So I'm good.)

(And yes, I've finished my pact. How did you guess? Did the carb-loading and excess sugar consumption tip you off? I was searching for chocolate too, but my stomachache stopped me from looking too hard.)