STRUCTURE

1: mode of building, construction, or organization; arrangement of parts, elements, or constituents

I learned on Sunday that allergen free incense still yields a quick headache, watery eyes and a sore throat for me in less than ten minutes (or should I say less than two hymns, which is about what I lasted?)  I also learned that I can still spend time with God in the arbor on a Sunday morning when the incense even from the narthex becomes too much.


As I sat on a bench, sipping coffee, I looked at trees in various stages of nakedness.  Some clung to their leaves, wearing coats of gold, orange and ruby.  Others had given up autumn's cloaks for the exposure of their limbs to winter.  All made visible something the trees of summer hide well - their structure, that which holds them up, holds them together and makes foliage itself possible.

In this way, trees are like us.  When we're saplings, we are all arms and legs, sprouting in every direction, with little thought to what form we will eventually take.  Like trees whose limbs shoot from them overnight, we go through our own spring amazed at all life has to offer.  My daughters have no idea whether they are sturdy oaks, long limbed pines or flowing willows.  (OK, they're unlikely to be long-limbed anything given their parentage, but you get my meaning.)  What they do know is that their job is to grow.  So they grow with abandon: trying new experiences, meeting new friends, learning new things.  The pruning that life brings they accept, sometimes with more grace than others.  (B has recently admitted that the only way she learns a lesson is the hard way - a difficult truth, but truth nonetheless.)


When spring gives way to fall, the growth slows a bit.  The flowers give way to leaves, their more sedate cousins.  And during summer, we hardly see trees for what they really are.  They're all green, all blending in to do their job - provide shade.  I think I'm in the summer of life now, much as I look forward to fall.  Because I feel like I'm all about my jobs right now - whether that's cooking, keeping our house orderly, schooling one child, raising three of them.  I blend in with all of the other women out there doing the very same things.  And I wonder how much you can see what I'm made of when I'm covered up with all of these leaves of responsibility.  Because in the summer of our lives, we're so very busy that there's little time for the glorious burst of color that fall brings, or the evidence that begins to show exactly what supports that big tall tree.

But if I don't take care during this busy summer season of my life to prune, to feed the parts that matter, to reach for the brightest light and not be satisfied with what trickles down to the undergrowth, if I don't do those things now, whatever will I look like come fall?  What structure will be left of me when I get to be me, instead of mom all the time?  When even K is off to college, what structure will hold me up?  I won't have the same day-to-day responsibilities then that I have now.  I'll theoretically have more time to be and have fewer demands on my time to do.


As I sat on that bench on Sunday, it occurred to me that I truly look forward to the autumn of my life.  I long for that riot of color, the shedding of things I don't need, the preparation for winter's rest.  But here I sit in the summer, when I should be bearing fruit or providing shade.  I don't want to wish away my time with my children or my husband.  I want to live in the moment and enjoy life right where I am.  So, like B, I'll continue to learn lessons (many the hard way) and I'll try to graciously submit to the necessary pruning so that when glimpses of my structure are seen, it will show the things that really matter - the Savior, not the sinner.

MOMENT

2: the present time or any other particular time

A few weeks ago, B made a pretty big mistake.  The kind that makes you wish as a parent that you could go back and undo it.  It momentarily rocked our world, but after a few conversations with B, I was feeling better.  When I shared with someone how it had made me feel, she asked whether I felt fearful.  I told her no, that once I talked to B and heard her side of the story and her motivations, I wasn't fearful.  This friend then expressed some surprise that it didn't make me fearful about middle school or high school.  My response to that was that I try very hard to not think that far ahead.  When I do, my mind begins to swirl with all of the possible things that could go wrong.  But I know that I could sit here right now and make a very long list of all of the possible things that could happen and not hit on the exact mistakes that will be made.  Because I know that mistakes will be made.

The danger in letting my mind drift to A, B or K as high schoolers or college students is that some of those memories are fresher.  One goal I have as a parent is that my children make different mistakes than the ones I've made.  I know they'll make mistakes.  Let's just have some fresh ones, shall we?  Let's not repeat the old ones.  But if I imagine them in high school, it's hard for me to visualize how they will interact with friends or boys without using the only data I have about what it's like to be in high school - the data from my own life.  Same thing with college.

So I'm trying very hard to stay in the moment.  One mistake by a 9 year old doesn't mean she is doomed to repeat that mistake for the next twenty years, so I've decided it's best to try to treat it like one mistake, not as anticipation of a pattern that may never develop.  It may not sound like there's much difference there, but I think staying in the moment helps keep the emotional reaction more in line with the offense.  There's a big difference between a life of crime and a stolen pack of gum. I try to see it for what it is and not let it morph into something far bigger.

A friend recently said about parenting, "If you don't take all of the credit, you can't take all of blame."  I love this because it goes so well with my desire to parent in the moment.  I wasn't the one who made the mistake.  B was.  Did I play a role in it?  Yes, but a very small one.  It was her mistake and she should bear the vast majority of the blame.  But it was one mistake, not a foreshadowing of who she will always be.

I think another advantage of trying to parent in the moment is that it helps us get a clearer picture of who are children are evolving into being.  A and B are 10 and 9 now and I can look back and see ways they have changed over the years.  I can also pinpoint aspects of their personalities that have been there nearly from birth.  But I couldn't have told you five years ago which things were fleeting and which were here to stay.  So I think it's safest to look back on occasion and look forward very rarely.  In the main, I want to stay in the moment, right there with them as we walk through life together.

KNOWN

1. perceived or understood as fact or truth; apprehended clearly and with certainty

As I was folding laundry today, I realized how well I know my daughters.  One likes tights, one prefers leggings, another knee socks.  One is always cold.  The other two refuse to wear pull-over sweaters, no matter how cold it gets (cardigans, hoodies and ponchos abound).  Two of them sleep in old t-shirts of their dad's - both are Brewers shirts, one from his childhood, one more recent.  I know who wants a t-shirt, who prefers a shirt with flowing sleeves, who likes knit pants because they stay on her body.  It warms my heart to fold clothes that I've purchased for my girls that they enjoy - a Tinkerbell t-shirt for A, striped leggings for K, a poncho for B - because I want to use my knowledge of them to delight them, please them, love them.

We all, I believe, want to be known.  It's comforting, encouraging, affirming.  But there's a push-pull to being known as well.  Because when we're truly known, we are very, very vulnerable.  Someone who knows you knows just the right gift to give, just the right word to say, just how to love you.  But that same person knows just how to hurt you, knows your weak spots.

When we're young, being known is often not a conscious desire.  Children expose much of themselves right from the start.  They are unafraid to tell you what they like and don't like.  They don't stop to think about whether someone wants them to be a certain way - they just do what they want to do.  I'm not sure exactly when this starts to change.   But gradually we become aware of others and what they want from us.  Often, we try to conform to that - consciously or unconsciously.  And that might mean we are a little less known - to ourselves and others.  Because if we devote too much time and energy to being who others want us to be, we lose sight of who we really are.

Last night, I was sharing something with my husband and I kept thinking, "I don't know who I am.  Tell me who I am."  J knows me incredibly well, but I don't really want him to tell me who I am.  When he tries to, I resist.  I want to find that out for myself, however hard that may be.  I want to figure out for myself what things I have my hands clenched around, so that I can loosen and open my grasp.  I want to figure out what metaphorical clothes I wear that need to be shed to reveal a truer me.  I want to know myself.  And no one else can do that for me.

I think a danger in parenting can be assuming that what we see and think we know about our children is true and/or will always be true.  I thought about this today as I folded laundry because the day will come when I won't know A's preference in socks.  The day will come when B trades in sleeping in her dad's baseball shirt for sleeping in her husband's baseball shirt.  They will change.  They will grow.  They will evolve.  And I don't want to tell them who they are or should be.  I want them to figure that out for themselves.  Just like I want to figure it out for myself.

Because once I am known to myself, I can let others know me by being who I'm meant to be. I long for the day when I can shed all of the unnecessary parts of me and be the bold me hiding under the "chlorophyll."  And I'd love to be able to do that fearlessly, even if I'm not quite there yet.  I'm still a bit afraid of who that person might be.  But I'd like to know her one day...

REVIEW

6 a : a critical evaluation (as of a book or play)

I don't think I've ever posted one of my Goodreads reviews to my blog, but I finished a book last night that deserves a blog post of its own.  Just in case there are any friends out there who read this blog, but aren't on Goodreads, here you go:

All Clear by Connie Willis

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


Right off the bat, a few things to indicate how highly I think of this book:


1) I am a master of delaying gratification when it comes to finishing a book, yet I stayed up an hour an a half past when I was tired last night to finish this book.

2) I cried so much during the last 100 pages that I had to switch from regular tissue to the lotion kind because my nose was sore.

3) I gave it five stars, which I do not do lightly.



I loved this book even more than its companion Blackout. Blackout was a great book as well and it roused emotion while also engaging my mind. But in Blackout my favorite characters were the Londoners surviving the Blitz. In All Clear, I fell head over heels in love with the historians who were trapped in 1940s London more than a century before their birth. There's Polly, who traveled twice to WWII England, once as a medic, then as a shop girl. There's Eileen whose first assignment ever leaves her stranded in England after a period of nursing evacuated London children. There's Mike, who came to the 1940s to observe heroism and ended up a hero himself. I came to love them all. A book with great characters often equals a great book for me.


But All Clear has even more because it can be read as one of the most beautiful metaphors I've ever encountered for how God stands outside the bounds of space and time, yet inserts himself into our lives because he loves us so much. I have no idea what Willis' faith is or isn't, but truth rings true no matter. And this book contains truths about what things in life are worth sacrificing for. Truths about whether life is a comedy or a tragedy. Truths about what friendship is and how it shapes us. Truths about how far love will go to rescue.


So should you read All Clear? Yes, yes, yes. Read Blackout first, but I don't have the words to convey how good I think this book is. Read it and see for yourself.



View all my reviews

LIBRARY

1. a place set apart to contain books, periodicals, and other material for reading, viewing, listening, study, or reference, as a room, set of rooms, or building where books may be read or borrowed.

Not long ago, a friend e-mailed me with a great idea: she wants to give her nieces and nephews books for Christmas each year.  Since her only daughter is almost exactly one year old, she wanted to see if I had any suggestions.  Did I have book suggestions?  Not only did I have suggestions, it made me start compiling a mental list of what books belong in every family's library.  This post contains books that top my list of baby shower gifts.  They're all for little ears and eyes.  That being said, many of these books still come off the shelves in my home with regularlity as we sit down to read before bed with our six year old.

Here are a few I came up with.  I'd love to hear your favorites.

Ish and Ruby's Wish: I know I feel strongly about these two books because they are my favorite gifts to give at a baby shower.  I especially like to give Ish when it's a second or third child since this book shows sibling relationships.  Reynold's other picture books (The Dot and The North Star) are also good.  Ruby's Wish is my go-to choice for a baby girl shower.  It's lesser known than many classics, but I can rarely read it aloud without crying.  Girl power in early 20th century China?  This book is a must have.

Llama Llama Red Pajama: This didn't go on my list to my friend because it's an Imagination Library selection. This means that if you live in Middle Tennessee and sign up for Books from Birth, you'll receive this book for free as part of the program.  But if you live elsewhere and don't know this book, get it.  Just say the title out loud and you'll know why.  It's a joy to read aloud and will turn even someone like me into a temporary actress.

Little Miss Spider: There's a lot to love about these books - the gorgeous oil painting illustrations, the rhyming text, even lovable Little Miss Spider.  Our family loves not only this book, but Miss Spider's Wedding, which has as endearing a plot as this book.

Barnyard Dance or something else by Sandra Boynton:  This book will have you singing and square dancing.  All of Boynton's books make us laugh and they are some of the most well-worn board books in our collection, which bespeaks my daughters' love of them.

Goodnight Moon: This classic needs no explanation.  Every child should get the opportunity to be lulled into rest to the sound of this lovely prose.

Guess How Much I Love You: My husband wouldn't forgive me if I don't include his favorite board book, which features a father rabbit and Little Nutbrown Hare.

Prayer for a Child: Another restful book to calm your little one down after you've read a fun book like Llama Llama or Barnyard Dance.

Harold and the Purple Crayon: Buy this book for its dreamlike quality and for its final line.

And, finally, a favorite from my own childhood.  I think this might be the only children's book that I remember clearly:  There's a Monster at the End of this Book.  Don't bother with the Elmo version.  Only Grover can make this magic work.

What have I missed?  What do pull off the shelf when your child lets you choose?  What are the must-haves for a child's library?

SABBATH

3. any special day of prayer or rest resembling the Sabbath.
4. (sometimes lowercase) a period of rest.

Sometimes a sabbath day of rest doesn’t fall on a Sunday. Today felt like a sabbath for me even though it held no formal worship, no refraining from certain activities, no feasting. What it did contain was a quiet morning, time to read my current novel, time to talk to a loved one, work on an early Christmas present, a walk alone with my middle daughter (who actually held my hand during the walk!), a bit of quiet reflection spent on my Bible study, a roasted chicken and football on TV. It might not sound like your sabbath, but it was exactly what my soul needed.

 
My husband actually attended the Vanderbilt game alone tonight because when I wanted to stay home and just relax, the girls all wanted to stay here, too. They spent their evening eating dinner outside, sitting on the sidewalk chatting, playing together and then reading Halloween books aloud together. Their own sabbath, perhaps.

One reason this day felt like a sabbath was that it had a rhythm of my choosing.  The only two time commitments were either handled by J (driving A to serve with a group) or skipped out on (the Vandy game).  It's not that I didn't do some work (the word sabbath derives from the Hebrew word shabbath, which means "to rest from labor"): I spent time on a computer project, prepared and roasted a chicken, then made broth for tomorrow's chicken noodle soup.  But the pace was slow, the activities were pleasant and I find myself feeling rested at the end of a day instead of exhausted.

The interesting part of all of this is that experiencing a sabbath rest requires that I do something in order to rest.  Several things, in fact.  It requires that I know I need rest, that I choose to meet this need and that I say no to other good things in order to get the rest.  This may sound easy, but if you've ever attempted to observe a regular sabbath, you will know it is no easy task in this world we live in.  We are encouraged to do more, make more, consume more, but we are never encouraged to rest more.

A few years ago I read Mark Buchanan's The Rest of God.  I loved the straightforward approach Buchanan took to explaining the various components of sabbath, followed by practical suggestions for how to take steps towards sabbath in your own life.    A few concepts have stuck with me in the years since I last read the book:  I try to refrain from housework on Sundays (although I still cook) and I try to make sure we eat dessert on Sunday (it being a feast day).  Everything else he said?  I don't think I retained it.  I certainly didn't apply it.

But every now and then my soul cries out for some sabbath rest.  From where I sit, I can see another book about sabbath on our library bookshelf.  I need to make time to read it when I finish the novel in progress.  And I need to remember the way a sabbath can make me feel - the way I feel right now: content, satisfied, rested.  Because sabbath was designed as a gift from God to us.  A gift that was not meant to sit unopened.

PERFECT

4: entirely without any flaws, defects, or shortcomings

The girls and I went to one of our favorite places yesterday - Cheekwood Botanical Gardens.  I realized at fall break last year that Cheekwood is a wonderful place for my children to roam.  It combines several things we all love: art, nature, great picnic spots and a laid back attitude.  This visit was to be a bit different.  We were joining a group of home school parents for a self guided tour of the Chihuly exhibit.  My girls and I have seen this exhibit several times, but we were planning to go over fall break to see it one more time before the exhibit closes.  I thought it would be fun for B and K to meet some of A's home school friends and I thought A would enjoy exploring Cheekwood with new friends.

It went mostly according to plan.  The very large group pretty much immediately split up into several smaller groups.  My girls and some others enjoyed using water colors on coffee filters to create their very own versions of Chihuly's macchia sculptures.  I love to watch all of  my daughters create, but B is especially gifted in this.  She always comes up with her very own way to do things and others (ahem, me) often end up copying her style (though I tend to have less success).

K was immediately happy on this field trip. One of her ballet class friends was a part of this group and she immediately included K with her other friends and made her feel happy and included.  Likewise, A spent a good portion of the day hanging out with friends from her tutorial program.

And then there's B.  My nine year old middle child who simply must do everything her own way, who must chart her own course and live her life her way.  At one point, she came up beside me and said, "I don't think anyone who is home schooled likes me."  It just about broke my heart.  This comment came close on the heels of B complaining to me that the other children where telling her what she should and shouldn't do - something she hates, whether adults or children do the telling.

I share this to remind myself and others that no day in this life is never perfect.  Yesterday was a wonderful day.  Our morning started slow, with pancakes for breakfast and plenty of time in our pajamas before readying for Cheekwood.  Cheekwood itself was a blast - we enjoyed hopping from one glass installation to another, seeing our favorites but not stressing about seeing all of them.  We snacked, we sketched, we rested, we walked the sculpture trail just the four of us.  We laid on the grass, looked at floating glass sculptures and just enjoyed the day sinking into evening.

But it still wasn't the perfect day.  My girls fought with each other.  B felt wounded.  I was impatient.

Last year at fall break the four of us went to Cheekwood.  I realized then that our family is in a sweet season - K is old enough to go anywhere without a stroller, I never carry a diaper bag, no one naps (except me), yet our eldest daughter is still young enough to enjoy being with us.  We're in a window that may close at any moment.  So I'm trying to savor this season while it lasts. But in the midst of the savoring, I have to remember that perfection just isn't on the agenda.  Even with daughters who enjoy each other's company and are wonderfully unique individuals, there will be parenting challenges that leave me reeling, exhausted and without words.

I suppose this is how it's supposed to be.  If we could ever achieve the perfect day, we wouldn't have that ache for the life to come.  We might actually be satisfied here.  So I guess my girls are just doing their part to make sure I don't fall into complacency.  As for me, I'll keep trying to take the good with the bad and not let the failures and mishaps of life overshadow the loveliness of a day spent walking in the autumn sun, seeing beautiful art and hanging out with my three favorite girls.