solitude

 

Snapshots

 

Happy Haul-idays

 An hour later, there is the crackling of amber, the unwrapping of the presents. Divy was carted off for a talk shortly after, and while Markus and I made plans to drive down to the annual Christmas Eve Open House, neither of us could resist the sleepy pull of the fire. We sat long on a pile of sunroom cushions, blankets littered with wrapping paper. He arrived hungry, roasted sausages over the fire.

(Later, the silent night would turn decidedly less so, but for now, all was calm.)

This is the year I am learning to pace myself. Learning that the gifts will be wrapped when they must. That seven holiday cards are better than none. That there was nothing sporty about a 90 mile trek to Bethlehem; that there needn’t be here.

Thus: our first Christmas experience was as you’d expect it to be – lovely and maddening, cheeks pinked and tempers red. We’d rang the bell at dark, chosen a wide silver one after aggressive indecision from the 8-year-old; he who wanted a voice in the matter, but couldn’t land on a chair.

There was a hot cider detour. A trip to the World Market, the famed chorus of where are the cookies and “Can we check at another store?”s ringing through every aisle. Checkout lines under bright garish lights. Two hours later, sugar pulsing through the veins of pint-sized children, the tree was ready with it's lights and we, the parents, were ready for light’s out.

So we paused. Recalibrated. Opened presents on a new day, with new energy (and detoxified systems) to greet us. It was far lovelier this way, inching out the miles a bit. Tree decorating one day, cookie dough making the next. Just last week, Markus and I finally managed to eek out a trip to the mall, our shopping fueled by pride and purpose.

It’s a reminder I need every year: that holidays with small children are swirly as snow globes, happily shattering our own delicate expectations for a real wonderland.

All the while: cold walks, warm feet, gift-sacking the black and white cookies for a few friends. This afternoon, the boys and I headed the canyon for a Christmas ski tour throughout the mountains.

Happy haul-idays, we’ll sing tomorrow to all.

Happy holidays, I write today to you.

 

 

p.s. See you in 2021, friends. It is such a joy to greet you here, and such a joy to tell you so. From the bottom of my heart, from the bottom of another year, thank you, thank you, thank you.

The Very Best Gift

 

Christmas Cookies

 

A Canopy of Forever

Hope For The Hard Days

It started Friday, with the injury. They were not Markus', but mine, and they were fueled by a variety of external factors, excuses – too much noise, not enough rest, too much covid, not enough time – and I had become itchy with discontent. I was on edge, a jagged, barbed wire version of myself that fenced out the good: gentleness, patience, kindness, love.

When I’m feeling particularly edgy, I forget a lot of things. I forget that I’m the grown-up. I forget that I am a leader, that I set the tone. That my barbed wire of self-preservation does nothing to further our bond but instead, encourages everyone else to – quickly, quietly please – build their own fence to protect each other from the elements of our truest selves. I forget that love – the kind of love I’m giving – comes without conditions. I forget that crying is the easy way out, and I forget that he is a sponge.

Life is linear, they have said. It has momentum, and one day builds from another – one choice from the one before. And so, I wonder, what does it mean when you have a string of bad days? How do you stop the momentum that has been building from crashing, burning, destroying? How long does a strand of bad decisions stretch before it strangles the good, before it wraps around your finger like floss, around your neck like a noose?

We cannot know.

But part of me believes that life may not be linear, after all. Perhaps these bad days are not strings tied together, but are stars – scattered under a canopy of forever? Some beautiful, some terrible, some far brighter than we’d imagined? And by peering at them from afar, from underneath, we see them as they are?
I choose, daily, to believe in a God that is not constrained by time, or space, or boundaries. Life, as I believe that He sees it, is not linear. And so, perhaps I’m looking at all of this from the wrong perspective.

What if a mother’s yell is merely an opportunity to voice forgiveness? What if a child’s disobedience is an opportunity to practice a parent’s self-control? And if that’s true, what if a woman’s guilt is simply an opportunity to accept – to show gratitude for and to cling to – a greater love?

Because here is what I do know: when love is offered unconditionally, everything changes. I know this because I believe in a God who is the very essence of unconditional love, and it surprises me more each day I am a mother. Is it irrational, and unthinkable, and holds little understanding. I am a toddler, a sponge, and certainly there are conditions that come alongside this God’s love? Certainly I will lose just a tiny portion if I, say, disobey and run out into the street? Or color on the walls? Or eat the dog food?

And yet, I am loved. I see it, in small flickers, a star on the darkest night of forever. I feel it, and I accept it, and I carry it until tomorrow.

And so, because of this, I love. He sees it, in small flickers, a star on the darkest night of forever. He feels it, and I can only hope he will accept it, and I can only pray that he will carry it until all the tomorrows.

#thegoodlist

 A note about #thegoodlist:

It's not that everything's coming up roses over here. 

I know you know. Still, it's worth repeating, often and always, that life's swelling circle of hope and doubt and fervor cannot possibly be squared off, served up as portions. 

But, we can learn to love the whole of it. We can learn to mine for good, or as my boyfriend has been saying for the past year: look for the light. 

The more we do it, the more we see it. 

And then: when the AC separation comes, when the first shift of your first game begins in Texas and ends 15 seconds later, when the emergency room doctor says it is grade 1-2, we'll have tiny shards of sunbeam to light the way forward. 

Candie's Baby Shower

 

Heroes Work Here

 

THE FUTURE IS EXCITING

life design 101

It’s back to school time for Markus, a time re-start fresh and re-establish routines.

As we move (back) into his senior year, how can he pull the back-to-school spirit into his life?

Maybe the answer is taking a class or starting a project. Maybe the answer is letting go of something like the trees shed their leaves. Maybe the answer is settling into a routine, setting a new habit, or applying to that University that remote school has kept you from…

But whatever it is, don’t fight the pull. Be open to change. Trust what you know you want. (And don’t be afraid to stock up on new school supplies either!)

As we approach the winter, what are you most excited about?

advice for a creatively abundant life

 

Ski & Skate

 

10 Things To Love

 Our home hasn’t found sleep in the past few nights, for reasons we don’t yet know. We’ve been tossing bedspreads to the floor, flipping pillows to the cool side. This morning, I called a truce earlier than usual, padded out to the dark dining room to find even the raccoons on the lawn, ever awake and digging for breakfast.

Insomnia, the great Gordian knot.

The good news, of course, is it finds me here typing to you. I’ve had a more difficult time coming to this space during daylight hours. There are apples to peel, slice, dole out. Another chapter in Der Kleine Mann. Emails, always. But for now, for this moment, all is quiet and calm. All are fed.

It is just me, right here.

(Bliss.)

—

A small smattering of loveliness to share:

1. Months ago, I asked the fine friends of Instagram for the greatest recipes beknownst and have slowly taken it upon myself to test each and every one (a most suitable goal if ever there was one). Here’s the clear winner so far, all those who are curious.

2. It is no secret we waddle around in long underwear at first frost, and last year I stocked up on these. They’re thick and structured, perfect for weeks-in-a-row wash and wear rotations. A not-so-short list of places I’ve worn them: Here, near-daily. Divy’s taekwondo class. Our favorite corner bread shop. Grocery shopping. Walks to the park. Not yet work, but it’s only a matter of time…

3. Eyebrows, then. While I once was one to hop on the micro-blading/eyelash-extension/whatever the kids are doin’ these days-train, I do love a good eyebrow dressing, and my general preference is gel > brush. Boy brow is good, but I like the ingredients in this one better.

4. Jojo Moyes, The Giver of Stars. I read books as often as I can, for the authors constructive wisdom and simmering depth. Though the writing is slow, that’s never been much of a dealbreaker for me (oft: the opposite). My December has been made all the better for this one.

5. Martin’s gearing up for a big project at work, so I’ve got my favorite meal scheduled. We all hate to see him go, but on the plus side, I don’t have to share the bread.

6. Speaking of bread, our Whole Foods is carrying this, and the rye flavor has graced no less than three daily meals over here. Eggs, chicken, rice, toast, potatoes, salad – heck, you could probably slather it over a bar of soap and it would taste better than an afternoon at Gjelina (very good indeed).

7. A conversation with Laurie White, on rituals and obituaries, trees and love.

8. Markus came home from his hockey practice a few days ago with a short video clip. He explained his 6 am practice in great detail, said today was the day to visit his father’s relatives. So he did. Said tomorrow was the day to visit his mother’s relatives. So we did. Said all week is the week to gift oranges and apples. So we did. And I am learning this: I will never regret following a child’s lead.

9. A happy little weather station.

10. Flannel sheets, for when we all start snoozing again (soon?).

Sending peace and warmth to your neck of the woods, sleepless or not. Happy December, friends.

GNO Craft Night

 

Masked

 

A Peek Into Our Days, Currently

 Last weekend, the first snowfall. We wake to small styrofoam beads glistening in the yard, the patio, the trees.

It’s Christmas! says Divy.
It’s snow! says Markus.

Soon, they’ll both be right.

December paraded in quicker than we’d anticipated, its usual fanfare clouded by the daily swirl of appointments, deadlines, covid. Each of us on separate routes: Martin finishing renovations on a vault, Divy practicing Taekwondo maneuvers. Me, another semester ending in December. Markus trying his darndest to pronounce the word ‘schon.’

There’s much to throw confetti over, now that I see it all in written down.

Still, we’re carving out a quieter rhythm for the end of December. Time to sit on the chairlift and catch a bit of snow, we think.

Last month, I’m riding to Vernal – a trio of males chattering on about multiverse. Markus tells me of string theory, of physics, of eternal inflation, but mostly this:

When you turn left into the parking lot, and someone else is turning right? And that choice leads to a totally different life, I mean we're living on a blue ball spinning in the middle of space?

I tell them I know very little about quantum mechanics, that it sounds complicated.

Kinda like life, one of them says. We all nod.

All else is all else: Mixed-berry jam, Alex Boye's ‘Little Drummer Boy.’ Pink cheeks bouncing to the mailbox, returning with mittened checks. Stoneware mugs, spending gift certificates. A scholarship for next semester.

“And the great 'Now What?' stretching without end.”
―Lauren Groff

 

Happy December to you, friends.

reThink Winter

 

Let Me Help You

It's where I go to refuel my spirit, pursue happiness, and feel truly alive. 

At a time when uncertainty reigns, we're turning to the backcountry more than ever. 

So, this winter, choose nature. Make the great outdoors your playground. Instead of hunkering down, venture out! And rethink everything, from your daily routine, family dinner, and seasonal traditions, to where I go to seek snow. 

Are you ready...to rethink winter?