It happens every night.  Somehow, she shuffles around in her sleep, rolling into a little ball and piling the puffy down cloud on top of her into a mountain of coziness.  She’s deep underneath in her warm sweet slumber, and it’s my job to coax her out to greet the morning.

It’s my favorite part of the day.  After her brothers have caught the early bus and before the chaos of the day begins, just she and I steal a few precious moments of our own.  When I’ve planned it right, I slip in under the cloud and spoon around her, soaking in the radiant heat of her skin and the scent of her shampooed hair.  She mumbles a little and we snuggle as long as we can.

Has it really been almost nine years since I held this babe in my arms, nursing her to sleep, cherishing every moment with my last, littlest one? 

She’s not a babe anymore.  She’s lean and long.  I can’t reach the full length of her legs, and when she jumps into my arms, my back aches.  I catch my breath when she saunters up the stairs with a slight sway of her hips –not on purpose–  just naturally feminine. 

There’s trouble ahead; I’m sure of it.  The posturing and friendship dramas already flare upon occasion, and I have no doubt there will be more to come.   But there’s also great joy in the glimpses of profound thought and compassion that arise more often as she grows.  

I cannot stop the flow of time.  I don’t really want to. 

So today, I savor a snuggle with my baby girl.  I never know how many more mornings like this we’ll have.

This is part of Tuesdays Unwrapped at Chatting at the Sky.

This article from Chick Moorman and Thomas Haller always re-frames my thinking gives me a lift.  I’m printing my favorite snippets; please read the complete article here.

____________________________________________

Special Thanks This Thanksgiving
By Chick Moorman and Thomas Haller

Millions of parents will pause this Thanksgiving to do what the day was originally created for — give thanks for the many blessings that exist in their lives. . .But what if your appreciation this Thanksgiving took on a new look? What if the blessings you count this year included situations that aren’t usually regarded as helpful, useful or valuable? Consider the following:

Why not be thankful that your child is two years behind grade level in his reading ability? This struggling reader is giving you the opportunity to read to him regularly at night. This evening ritual will help build connectedness between you and your child while at the same time modeling your love for the printed word. Great literature can be shared as you simultaneously bond with your child. This opportunity is an incredible blessing. Appreciate it. . .

Why not be thankful that your teenager received a speeding ticket? Getting a ticket is not a bad thing. Not if your teen learns from it and slows her driving for the next year. If she takes personal responsibility, pays the ticket, and is more cautious about her driving, the ticket may well save her life or the life of someone else in the future. Bless the ticket and give thanks for its blessings.

Why not be thankful that your 8-year-old shoplifted in the grocery store? This is the perfect time to teach your child about shoplifting. Better now than when he helps himself to someone else’s car when he is 18. Teach him how to make amends. Teach him what to say as he returns the candy bars to the storeowner. Help him learn to articulate what he learned and what he intends to do differently next time. Bless this perfect time to teach lessons about taking things that don’t belong to you. Be grateful for the opportunity.

Why not be thankful that your youngsters track mud and sand into the garage and house? The next time you stand in the garage furiously sweeping sand and wishing that your children were better behaved; quietly remind yourself that one day you’ll wish you had sand to sweep out of the garage. Love the mud. Love the sand. Be grateful for the signs of the presence of children in your life. . .

Why not be thankful that your adolescent asked you about sex? This is a great sign. It means your child trusts you enough to talk to you about sex. It means she is not getting all her sex knowledge from the street. It means you have moved beyond “the talk” to having an ongoing, honest conversation about the important subject of sex. Congratulate yourself. It is a blessing that you are willing to fulfill that role for your child and that she is responding to it positively. Give thanks. . .

Why not give thanks that your child is spilling milk, talking with his mouth full, wiping cranberry sauce on his new pants, refusing to eat his vegetables, and interrupting his grandmother at the dinner table this day? It means you have more work to do as a parent. It means your job is not yet done. This is a blessing. You are still needed to help your child learn to pour milk more carefully, improve his table manners, learn to eat nutritiously, and show respect for elders. Give thanks for these opportunities. . .

This Thanksgiving remember that parenting is a ministry. It is a sacred role that you are being called to perform. Give thanks that you have been called. Give thanks that you are willing to step forward and accept that call. Appreciate that you are being shown the way. Celebrate yourself and your contribution to healing the planet by helping your children evolve into the people they were meant to be. You are a blessing to the world. Give thanks that you are up to the task.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Chick Moorman and Thomas Haller are the authors of The 10 Commitments: Parenting with Purpose.  Follow their parenting posts at Uncommon-Parenting.

Also, it’s not to late to join me in the 30 Days of Gratitude project this month.  Check it out here. 

photo credit: TheAlieness GiselaGiardino²³

As an infant, we would tickle him over and over to hear his infectious giggle.  As he grew, he’d entertain us with dramatic antics, and at night you can still hear him laughing with his brother until they collapse into slumber.  He’s eleven. 

I have to admit, the controlling mom in me sometimes worries if he goes to far.  He loves to make other kids laugh, but is he too distracting in the classroom?  Does he really understand when to turn it on and when (and how) to simmer down?  At home, those boundaries blur.  Our meals sometimes disentegrate into ROFL laugh fests–sometimes that’s a welcome release, and sometimes it gets tiresome.

Recently we played a family board game together (Settlers of Catan–highly recommended for older kids), and the silly sounds and voices were in full swing.    We all laughed together until the antics got old and the game wasn’t working.  Dad and I tried to get our son to settle down but the goofy beast kept escalating, and everyone was irritated. 

Finally, Dad ordered him to keep his mouth shut for the rest of the game. 

N flipped off his internal goofiness switch.  The game resumed in peace and quiet. 

But it wasn’t fun any more.  We tried to continue, but everyone’s enthusiasm dwindled.

So we told N he could go back to his usual self.  He immediately perked up, and so did we.

And then he said this:

“See, I just proved to you how much this family needs me around.” 

You know, he’s absolutely right.  I’m so grateful for his gift of goofiness.  May he hang onto that spirit, and may we remember to treasure it every day.

If you’d like to join me in finding gratitude in the little things, register for 30 Days of Gratitude.  It starts Sunday!

Rise without trying

at 5:00 am

capture the sunrise

beat the heat

pretend we belong

escape to the spa

dip in the pool

laze in the river

catch a movie

dinner for two

slumber again

in that big soft bed

then off to the farm.

Big hugs

extra tight this time

catch up

greet the dogs

and sink bare feet into

the softest grass in the world.

Breathe in

break bread

sit on the porch

enjoy the view.

Ruffle feathers

make amends

try again.

Girl time

guy time

swing on the tire time

sit on the porch

enjoy the view.

Savor the flavors

reconnect

celebrate early

watch not-so-small kids play

on that soft green grass. 

5:00 am again

more hugs

dewey eyes

unspoken words.

Fly home

regroup

and remember

our lovely respite.

And make note

every day

to

enjoy the view.

I’ve never felt so hip at a second grade event.

We’ve been hearing about Mr. T’s poetry night for weeks.  Mr. T is KN’s cool student teacher:  a gentle giant with big hair, big hands, and a big heart for kids.  We’d received at least three kid-scrawled invitations:  a command performance for the family, and I have to admit, some of us weren’t super excited.    At least there would be food.

The dinner exceeded my expectations.  Mr. T and his parents(!)  prepared delicious homemade lasagna.  In class, the children frosted cupcakes (okay, those were just what I expected) and studied fractions while they cut the fruit salad.   While the guests enjoyed dinner, Mr. T. whisked the kids away to prepare for the poetry reading. 

When they were ready, Mr. T invited us into the classroom “the K-T lounge“.   Slow jazz infused the air.  Battery-powered candles and tasty finger foods graced the cloth-covered tables.  A cozy lamp, bar stool and microphone invited poets to the front stage.

Clearly this was going to be something special.

In the lamplight, those precious children moved us.  They made us laugh, cry, and hold our breath as they worked to get out the words.  Every child in this class of diverse abilities and resources excelled that night.  Their families swelled with pride, and so did the kids.

Mr. T., with support from his amazing mentor, Mrs. K., went far beyond the call of duty that night.  He set high expectations, created a special mood, involved the whole community, and made memories that will last a lifetime.  

Most importantly, he instilled a passion for poetry in twenty-something second graders.

I offer thanks to Mr. T, Mrs. K, and teachers who go far beyond expectations to make a difference.  May they inspire a passion for teaching and life long learning in the next generation.

Check out more inspiring tributes over here:

I was peacefully studying when my Diet Coke spilled, the furniture swayed, a dresser toppled over and I stumbled to the doorway, riding the door jamb like a galloping horse.  My roommate held on for dear life on the fire escape of our rickety old ex-fraternity house.   When it finally stopped, we raced down the stairs and gathered outside. 

I have to admit, I was a little excited.  After four years in California, I had finally felt my first big earthquake.   Then we realized it was a really big one– 7.1 on the richter scale– and were grateful to survive without injury.  The Marina District burned, the Bay Bridge broke, a double-decker San Francisco freeway collapsed, and the World Series was abruptly cancelled at 5:04 pm that day.

My dear boyfriend (later to become my DH) checked on me and then biked away to study (ridiculous work ethic, that guy of mine).  We didn’t realize we would be banned from our now damaged house, and many students would be homeless for weeks.  We bunked together, taped up the windows, and huddled through the aftershocks for days, never knowing when another big one might strike.  It was a major life event.  I still grab my desk, ready to dive under, when I feel the slightest floor tremble (in Michigan!). 

Another friend?  He totally missed the whole thing.  Riding his mountain bike along the foothills, he thought the trail was just extra bumpy.  He wasn’t connected with the earth beneath him, so he didn’t even realize it was shifting. 

This story popped into my mind during a recent discussion of the walk to Emmaus.  In this story, two disciples walked with Jesus without even recognizing him.  They were so caught up in their own lives that they completely missed the miracle in their midst.  I used to wonder, “How could they miss it?”

Now, I totally understand.  It’s so easy to get caught up in our daily routine, planning and preparing for the next hurdle, that we forget to pay attention to our surroundings.  We forget to connect, and we miss things–the little blessings, the minor miracles, or even the earth shifting beneath us. 

I want to connect.  I want to be present.  I don’t want to miss what’s happening in my midst. 

What about you?  How do you stay in the present?

photo credit: confusedvision

Okay, maybe sometimes I am.  Still, in case I misled you in my recent  posts in this series (based on Caryn Dahlstrand Rivadeneira’s book), I want to take time to recognize the amazing ways that I’ve been enriched by becoming a parent.  

Here are just a few ways motherhood has blessed, transformed, and enriched me:

1)  My heart has expanded

I don’t think I quite understood how far love could stretch until I started taking care of another totally dependent being.  It started with a puppy when I was six months pregnant (yes, a crazy idea).  For the first time I felt that loving ache– almost like a stretch in my heart.  When my son AJ was born, my heart expanded as I bonded with him.  Then NT was born looking completely different from AJ.  It seems funny, but that silly appearance factor erased any doubt I would have to divide my love.  I thought, “Oh!  This is a completely different child!”  as my heart ballooned for both little boys.  My daughter’s birth magnified my love even more, and I now understand how folks with quivers of children love each one uniquely, not equally.  I truly believe that parenting has expanded my capacity to love.

2)  My priorities shifted beyond myself

Yes, I do gripe sometimes, but without a doubt, parenting has shifted my priorities for the better.  My younger hopes and dreams were all about what I wanted to accomplish.  Now I must consider how every choice impacts my family, and most of the time that happens automatically.   By design, parenting has taught me to be less self-absorbed and more focused on others, and I believe I’m a better person for it.  As Caryn writes,

“When your day’s agenda includes learning about and enjoying the people your children are becoming, it makes sacrificing easy and rewarding–to a point, that is.”

–p. 16, Mama’s Got a Fake ID

3)  I “get” God just a little bit more

I’ve got a long way to go, but parenting has magnified and clarified my faith in so many ways.   Being a mother has shown me how God loves us for who we are rather than for what we do.  I begin to understand how God might allow us to struggle so we may grow through hard times.  And I really can see how it breaks His heart to watch us suffer, but know that he wants the best for us no matter what.  I’m beginning to “get” that, and a parental perspective has given me a metaphor to help me on my faith journey. 

Add these three to countless other benefits of motherhood, such as learning to survive without sleep, multitask like a maniac, and trust my intuition:  without a doubt, I’ve been enriched beyond measure by motherhood. 

How has parenthood (or another life-changing experience) refined or enriched you?

I continue to be blown away by the awesome power of women. 

I don’t mean the super mom who does everything on her own, but the ordinary person who acts from the heart and pulls others along side her.   It doesn’t matter whether we’re feminist or conservative, career-driven or homemakers, religious or not, women in community have the power to change the world.  I’m inspired and humbled by all of you out there. 

I’m blessed to know a group of women at my church we call WowMoms.   It stands for Women of Wonder/Moments of Mission, but I like to call us wonder women (I know, that’s corny too).  Someone’s kids dubbed us “wild moms,” but we’re not that wild.  We are, however, wonderous.  In community.

We typically meet, eat, chat, laugh, pray, cry, and when time allows, study a good book.  Over the years, we’ve pulled together to help out friends in need.  A few examples:

• A few years ago one of our members–a pillar of our community– burst a brain aneurism that nearly killed her.   The prognosis was dim.  People stepped up to provide meals, put up the family Christmas tree, take shifts at the hospital, and other creative means of support.  This amazing woman pulled through, and today inspires us all as a walking miracle.   But the real miracle was the transformation of our community as we shifted our focus into prayer and service.
• Awhile later another crisis arose.  It’s a really long story, but a three-year-old girl awaited a heart transplant, surviving with an artificial Berlin heart.  At first we didn’t know this family well, but women from our group rallied as best we could–cleaning house, babysitting her toddler twins, decorating her room, and even getting mom out for a party or two.  This child’s hospital ordeal lasted well over a year, and eventually she died–one of the saddest days I can remember.  Despite the tragic ending, this child’s story changed the lives of hundreds of people.  And her mom?  Amazing.  Of course, she’s a WowMom now, putting life back together with support of women who care. 
• Last December, a friend’s house burned down.   They lost everything.  So what do helpful women do?   Oh yes, we went shopping to create a semblance of Christmas for them.  Weeks later, women helped her sift through the remains for the insurance inventory.  And this Christmas, when she missed her cherished family heirlooms, she at least had the ornaments we selected for her tree.   A year later, the little gestures helped her through. 
• And recently, a little boy’s appendix burst, and the troops have deployed with visits, cards, sibling care, mom massage, and filling in where this servant mom shines.  He’s still in the throes of a dangerous recovery, so if you’d like to offer up a prayer for Robin  we’d really appreciate it.

I could wax on about how these women inspire me in little and big ways, not always in crisis.  I’m not the ring leader of this band of sisters; I show up when I can and they always welcome me.   I find an oasis of love and support in a crazy world.  As individuals, we’re flawed, but as group, the community is amazing.   They help me become a better person.

So here’s to Wonder Women:  women who do little things in community to change the world.

I bet you know some of your own wonder women (or men).   Tell me about it. 

And check out more tributes over here:

Yet Another Jay and Deb Production.

Yesterday morning I decided to get off my bum and drive my kids to the bus stop in the pouring rain.  The pouring rain is a happy thing around here.  Rain (instead of snow or ice) means there might be a God out there who is considering sending spring our way, someday.  It washes away the old snow and slush and leaves a fresh landscape of potholes, mud and weird grit, so we can freeze up and cover it with snow again.  Such is the freeze/thaw cycle in Michigan, but it really makes us appreciate the miracle of spring.  Anyway. . .

I had to prepare my gigantic mug of coffee for the 3-minute trip down the street.  I’m one of those people who needs to have a coffee mug in hand for at least the first two hours of the day.  It makes me happy, and you know the motto, “When momma’s happy, everybody’s happy.”  

So I grabbed my coffee, hopped into our awesome Ford Flex (gotta put a plug in there for the economy) and headed down the street.  I wedged my big round coffee mug as best I could into the cup holder. 

I bet you can guess what happened next.

As I pulled up to the stop, my unsecured mug tipped over and out poured the entire contents.  Directly into the adjacent cup holder. 

That’s right.  It didn’t spill all over the car, it poured right into the cup holder, filling it up like a cup of coffee itself.

My first reaction?  “Oh ______ (fill in your favorite expletive here), I can’t believe this happened.  What a schmuck I am.  G is going to kill me (because this isn’t the first time I’ve done something dumb with my coffee).  This is starting out to be a lousy day.”

Then I realized, “I am the luckiest woman ever.  Who accidentally spills her coffee directly into another vessel without splash or spill?  It’s going to be an amazing day.” 

After the kids finished laughing at me, I sent them on their way, went home, and cleaned up easily.  Zero evidence.  Except for the fact that G reads the blog, and I’m sure he’ll be cool.

What do you think?  Schmuck or luck?  Half empty or full?

photo credit: kiss kiss bang bang, photo credit: Art Freak

Yes?  No?  Me too. 

I admit, I put my 1000 gift list project aside these past several weeks. The little black book got buried in that basket of homeless living room stuff.  We were just so busy with Christmas,  back to school, that nasty shingles attack, and all those things that get in the way of gratitude, that I, well. . . forgot?

Actually, I didn’t really forget.  I semi-consciously let it go, and I will own that behavior, since I’m trying to teach my children to do the same.   I should have kept it going, especially during the crazy times, but I also promised myself I would not “should upon” this project.   Gratitude is voluntary.  It’s also a choice, not just a feeling, but it must come from within.

Why do I raise this today?  Because I’m a little bit cranky.  I haven’t been feeling especially grateful lately.   Rather, I haven’t decided to be especially grateful lately.  So, I need to make a fully conscious decision to cultivate gratitude. 

Time to dig out the little black book of 1000 gifts (I’m only on #121). 

While I’m so weary of winter and notice I haven’t seen the earth since Christmas, I note these gifts:

• the beauty of fresh snow
• bright sun and blue sky in the coldest temps
• the cosiness of fleece blankets and down comforters
• the way children radiate warmth when we snuggle
• an upcoming winter vacation planned well in advance

While our family drags with winter colds and recovery, I note:

• our overall good health
• the joy of touch after missing it for awhile
• the easy fixes of modern life

While I’m distressed about the 10.6% unemployment in my state, local businesses closing daily, and too many layoffs hitting close to home, I note these gifts:

• support of G’s professional job with benefits
• my part time work to fill the gaps
• my husband’s rock-solid composure under stressful working conditions
• a community of support
• blessed assurance that we’ll be okay no matter what

Even when I don’t feel grateful, the conscious act of recording my gifts gets me just a little bit closer to the real thing. 

What about you?  How do you cultivate gratitude when you’re feeling crabby?

photo credit: Paul Worthington