Last night I was caught up in Pinterest, joyfully repinning an array of the most exquisite photos and ideas at the speed of light. Gardening photos of pefectly pea-gravelled paths of lavender repinned on this board. Deliciously decorated dracula cupcakes on that Holiday Nibbles & Sips board of mine. Lit lanterns lining bookshelves? right over here on my Decorating 101 board. I was immersed in thought, photo, and dreamlife.
I {heard} daughter's question, her repeated question, then her dramatic {{SIGH}} right next to me at my kitchen table. I know I hummed Hmmm? at least once, maybe twice as I scrolled along. And then, instead of snapping laptop immediately shut, I {{sighed}} right back and I wondered hard: When is MY time? When is MY cup filled? When does MY work end? I did shut laptop down to look at confusing "Area Model Example" on graph paper full of highlighted squares and stapled double-digit-decimal multiplication. But I waited until after three more repins. It made me feel like I was in control. This morning I realized I was out of control last night.
In a strange twist, this morning Ann Voscamp's blog answered a portion of my three questions kept in quiet thought last night. Like an answer to a questioned prayer she typed what my ears and my heart needed to hear.
MY time is all the time. Enjoy. It. All. There's no Record/Replay button. The moments that make me want to pull my hair out are the ones that weave understanding into my life. The moments I want to wrap up in delicately stamped rice paper and tie off with bakery string for a moving memory also weave understanding into my life. The understanding is, this is all there is. The good, the bad, the ugly. All woven and wrapped up into my life. Every day. Every moment. Till there are no more.
MY cup is filled when I understand I make a difference even in the tiniest moments of whomever's life I'm part of. When I am inside every moment with them instead of drifting through time awaiting the next big moment. When I feel strong-willed to do just what I want, but I give in to their need, it is more precious. It's when my cup is full to over-flowing. It's full of meaningful memories not the ever draining selfish long forgotten moments.
MY work never ends. Those heartstrings are attached forever. Mothering is a full-time job. I cannot hang the "Closed" sign up at 9 p.m. in a clean swept and neatly organized kitchen. I don't get weekends or sick days off. I am needed in a way that has to fill my cup even when it feels like it's being drained to driest bone. In my home, the phrase, "I am mother, hear me roar," is more often, "I am mother, hear me snore." Now they listen, now they learn. Then they'll leave one day. And will my life's legacy leave with them?
When I finally learn that payment in the form of feeling like my cup is full comes in the schooling, carpooling, and even the occasional dueling with my children I'll be unfooling my heart to this chapter of my life. The here. The right now. The "right-in-the-minute" moments when I'm at my best and I allow the ones around me to fill my cup. Even when I'm at my worst and I breathe a silent prayer of sorrow and ask aloud for forgiveness.
Learning daily to line this nest with my {{own}} plucked feathers.
In a strange twist, this morning Ann Voscamp's blog answered a portion of my three questions kept in quiet thought last night. Like an answer to a questioned prayer she typed what my ears and my heart needed to hear.
MY time is all the time. Enjoy. It. All. There's no Record/Replay button. The moments that make me want to pull my hair out are the ones that weave understanding into my life. The moments I want to wrap up in delicately stamped rice paper and tie off with bakery string for a moving memory also weave understanding into my life. The understanding is, this is all there is. The good, the bad, the ugly. All woven and wrapped up into my life. Every day. Every moment. Till there are no more.
MY cup is filled when I understand I make a difference even in the tiniest moments of whomever's life I'm part of. When I am inside every moment with them instead of drifting through time awaiting the next big moment. When I feel strong-willed to do just what I want, but I give in to their need, it is more precious. It's when my cup is full to over-flowing. It's full of meaningful memories not the ever draining selfish long forgotten moments.
MY work never ends. Those heartstrings are attached forever. Mothering is a full-time job. I cannot hang the "Closed" sign up at 9 p.m. in a clean swept and neatly organized kitchen. I don't get weekends or sick days off. I am needed in a way that has to fill my cup even when it feels like it's being drained to driest bone. In my home, the phrase, "I am mother, hear me roar," is more often, "I am mother, hear me snore." Now they listen, now they learn. Then they'll leave one day. And will my life's legacy leave with them?
When I finally learn that payment in the form of feeling like my cup is full comes in the schooling, carpooling, and even the occasional dueling with my children I'll be unfooling my heart to this chapter of my life. The here. The right now. The "right-in-the-minute" moments when I'm at my best and I allow the ones around me to fill my cup. Even when I'm at my worst and I breathe a silent prayer of sorrow and ask aloud for forgiveness.
Learning daily to line this nest with my {{own}} plucked feathers.
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