taking back sunday

it usually happens when i'm on my side in bed, one hand propped under the cotton pillowcase and the other hanging loosely above my head. when everything in the house is silent save for the sweet puffs of breath pablo and robert let slip out as they dream.

when the day is done, and the headaches and stresses, little annoyances and big worries all go back into their rabbit holes for a few hours. that's when i pray the longest, and the hardest.

i love the idea of prayer as a continual conversation. of never really saying amen. i whisper little thank yous when my lane is clear on the highway. when a stormy day turns sunny. when i'm rocking on the porch swing with a big bowl of salad and a sweet tea. i whisper little please Gods before a presentation, a work engagement or a dreaded conversation.

but the true, guttural voice that rises from me to reach out to the heavens only truly comes out at night. and i've thought about how to change that. how to make it the first thing, not the last thing i do. i don't want the most integral, important part of my life to be an afterthought. something i attend to after my everyday duties are accomplished and i'm just about sacked out.

the other day, i realized an important element behind why i think this way: i consider sunday the last day of the week.

i've always been confused by calendars, because they typically start the week with sunday, and end with saturday. i've gone against this trend all my life. monday, the dreadful beast that it is, is always the first day of my week. my new chance to start fresh. to write in my planner more and clean my desk. to plan meals and spend more time with pablo.

but it needs to be sunday. it has to be sunday. if i keep sunday as the last day of my week, i continue the trend of pushing my rest and religion to the very back burner. oh sure, you can have church, and a day of thanksgiving and reflection. only after your monday through saturday things get done.

so tomorrow is the last day of my week, as far as i'm concerned. and sunday will start it anew. my end is now my beginning, as it should have been.

mama once told me, there's no sweeter way to fall asleep than in prayer, deep in the arms of Jesus.

but there's no sweeter way to wake up either, i'm certain.

an off day

 xxx

i am thankful for a windowsill this morning. a ledge upon which to balance my mug. a warm tea i'm beginning to love, with honey to sweeten. a beautiful song on youtube that somehow, in some odd otherworldly way, knows my heart words.

it's a day off work, but not off. of running around planning for a sweet friend's bridal shower this evening. of dragging my still sick self to the shower and letting the hot water pour down the drain. of getting dressed. swiping on lipstick. wearing the little kitten heels.

of moving forward, physically, even when my weary mind is still stuck somewhere between monday night and the early dawn of tuesday, when i had my first cup of coffee in a month.

because we're not machines, us sweet humans. we're soft and squishy and blood beats through us. so we find the little ways to nurture that life. to breathe into it and let it return the favor, one sweet thursday sunrise at a time.

relationship series: communication (a lesson learned at 12)

 xxx

this week's relationship series is on communication. be sure to check out gina and morgan's posts today and link up below!
 
when i was twelve, i attended the dixie classic fair with my uncle and cousin. it was warm as we strolled the grounds and now i can't hear coolio's gansta paradise without thinking about the ferris wheels and cotton candy.

i approached a man in a big floppy hat, standing in front of an oversized microphone. step right up and i'll read your mind! think of a number between one and fifteen. i stood and thought. he guessed wrong (or did i change my mind halfway through? neither here nor there, i tell you.) i scanned the prizes and settled on a lovely print of a bunch of puppies in a row that hung on my closet wall for many a childhood year.

i relate this to you to explain one thing: people are very rarely good at reading minds. my opinions on psychics and the long island medium aside, i believe only the simplest emotions, like love and fear express themselves in their purest form through our eyes. other times, words must be attached to them. they must hang on our feelings and give them shape, meaning and truth.

and i know for sure, my husband isn't a mind reader, nor am i. my favorite scene in bridesmaids is when kristen wiig and rose byrne try to show their love for maya rudolph by giving her their best "friend face" expression. that kind of look rarely works on robert. he'll wonder, does that raised eyebrow mean you're hungry? are you mad at me? maybe you want to watch another episode of "my strange addiction"? tell me!

we have to speak. to communicate. to tell each other i love you and not expect our hand hold to always say if for us. to call for no reason. to stay up and speak into the darkness. to give voice to that gut emotion that will sit, latent if we don't.

because one of my greatest fears is i will get to the end of my life with all these unspoken words stored up inside. when someone is ready to listen now, relate now, converse now.

of course, there is one unspoken rule: fine means anything but fine. even a fair clown can tell you that.

be still my heart

 

march just hasn't been my month. i have a lingering cold that just won't quit. i said goodbye to a dear friend. and just tuesday, i hit a cat on my way to work (more on that later. oh the tears).

but every once in a while, life stops doling out the lemons and just plain out gives you lemonade.

my sweet neighbor contacted me about some vintage clothes she had in her garage. ones that belonged to her late great aunt, who lived on a hundred acre farm fifteen minutes away. i wasn't sure what to expect. it's always a risk with vintage. it's either amazing or littered with moth holes and smells like cats.

but this collection. oh my. it was garment after garment of perfectly preserved floral sundresses, little blouses and gorgeous handbags. all my size and priced very fairly. hands down, it's the best purchase i've made all year. her name was marjorie and i do believe i'm a little in love with this lady and her impeccable style.


march, you've met your match.

on saying yes

 

 via

if involves a corner booth, in that pocket of morning before the world awakes, with a hot mug of coffee against your lips, say yes.

if there's a meadow, with wildflowers shin high and queen anne's lace and renegade weeds, on the side of an old county road and no cars for miles and it's time to stretch your legs and he grabs your hand to dance, say yes.

if there is a sliver of sun against the clean carpet, in that spot beneath the living room window, and your dog is stretched out inside it inviting you to lay there and rest, say yes.

if you're leaning against his car and the stars are parading around the ceiling of night and he tells you those three words that every date, phone call and late night movie have slowly, steadily been inching toward, and he asks you back, when you feel it in your gut, say yes.

say yes to sleeping late on saturday when the windows are open and there is nothing on the calendar until supper, to getting on your knees in the dead of night when your household is asleep and asking the Lord for things that escape you in the bustle of the day, to chocolate and red wine and poorly acted movies, to guttural laughs and nights in the kitchen with your sister.

to ignoring the e-mail, homework, deadlines and commitments for an hour and laying on the bed with a pup that will one day walk slow and hobble, not run toward the tennis ball. to sending flowers and snail mail, and driving all day just to see someone for a few hours. to walking on rocks in the ocean, taking too many pictures that only you appreciate, and humming in your cubicle.

say yes to enough of the right, good things, and the nos will reveal themselves in due time. peek their little heads out and remind you, not now, my dear one, not quite yet. you've still got some dancing to do.

one day dreams: iceland's ring road

on the first real morning of our new england trip last autumn, robert and i found ourselves face-to-face across the table with a pair of sweet newlyweds. bed and breakfasts are always slightly awkward, but they made the morning fun and we talked until ten when they had to set off on their honeymoon.

to iceland.

they told us of the ring road, and how they were driving around it over a period of a few weeks. we exchanged smiles and well wishes, and they went on their way, riding away from the old house on a bicycle built for two. it was a brief exchange, just a few hours with feta omelets and orange juice in the early, foggy new england dawn.

when we got somewhere with internet access, we googled it. and lo and behold, this is my new dream:

one, two, three, four

i'll be eating soup for lunch for the rest of my days to afford airfare to iceland, but i hope somewhere that couple is living sweet married life together, and that they took a good camera on their trip.

relationship series: loving through parenting

this week's relationship series subject is loving through parenting. on how to grow together while you grow and nurture a child. when i first thought about this prompt, i didn't know what i would bring to the table. of course, there's the experience i've got mama-ing my pup pablo. that time in eighth grade when i took home a "baby think it over" and cared for it for a weekend (did you know that if you turn the key in its back and prop it up against a pillow it will stop crying?) and that fateful month last may when i fostered those four kittens in the shed out back.

but parenting? real, day-in, day-out packing lunches in the morning and tucking the covers under sleepy arms at night? i haven't lived that yet. it's one of the greatest joys in my life that i still have that to look forward to. i married young and finished college early. right now i'm enjoying the interim period between those major changes and the one that will really, truly alter my life.

but i find it so appropriate that today is my sweet mama's birthday.

because if i've learned from anyone how to love and parent simultaneously, it is from my ridiculously romantic mama and dad. the ones who purposely burn popcorn because they like it that way, and settle into the couch every friday night. they used to watch VHS tapes, then DVDs from blockbuster. now the great thrill is which movie dad will bring home from redbox. technology has changed and left old trends in the past, but they haven't.

they don't pin one against each other. if i wanted something when i was young, i never heard "go ask your dad." because what dad would say, mama would say, so there was never any need. they rose early with us on sunday mornings, cooked soft scrambled eggs with cheese, and took the walk with us up our long driveway to get the paper.

they've sat at cheerleading competitions, basketball, soccer and t-ball games as we three kids have found our athletic niches. they loaded us all in the family van every summer and took us down to the beach for a long weekend. stopping at every historical site and battlefield along the way because it's fun and kind of funny.they've gotten down on their knees and prayed with me. on my bedroom floor. across the kitchen table. on a row side by side in church.

but the one thing they've taught me about love through their parenting is this: one child is no better than the other. love them all the same. every time they show my sister or brother attention, they make sure i feel loved too. they have never, ever shown favoritism. and for that, they are my favorite.

i love them to the ends of this earth and back. happy birthday, mama! thank you and dad for teaching me what love is, even when you didn't think i was watching.

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be sure to check out what gina and morgan wrote on this topic and link up below!