Time for change

It's been months since I've blogged and that is going change.  In fact a lot of things in my life are going to change.  I'm nearing the end over 6 years as a leader in my local MOPS group.  The experience has been one that has stretched and grown and bettered me.  It's also taken up a large portion of my time.  I'm excited to have that time back.  Another big upcoming change is that my youngest will be attending school five days a week this fall.  Still half days (for which I am very grateful), but that means even more hours each week to do what I want and need to do.  Other obligations are coming to an end as well and I now find myself in the position to decide how to structure my time instead of having obligations that must fit in to my schedule.  Not that I'll be sitting around twiddling my thumbs wondering what to do, no, I am sure I will be as busy as ever.  But I now get to decide what I want to fit into my days and when.  I feel as if I have purchased a brand new notebook with so much potential  - I can write whatever I want.  At the same time, I don't want to waste the pages.  I want to make every line count.  Stay tuned for some ideas of what I might pencil into the notebook.

Longing

As I revisit the few posts Scott and I made to our family blog exactly three years ago, I am unexpectedly struck by what almost feels like sadness or longing. Not a longing for the ages the kids were then or who they were then, or longing for who I was then (or even my age then). A longing for a chance to have the time back that I've wasted since then. Of course I haven't listened every time Benjamin pointed out a bit of nature or Katherine asked for another snack, but have I listened enough? As a mom, I often struggle with feeling like I should be doing more and being more. Mommy guilt. If you are a mom, you have it. Some days I have lots of it and some days I feel like I have it because I deserve it. I made choices that weren't wise. I yelled and broke a little spirit that is fragile, yet, thankfully, amazingly resilient. I wasted time on something trivial that should have been spent reading a book or playing a game. That longing or "mommy guilt" or conscience or whatever name you want to give it, serves a purpose. NOT to make me feel inferior or not good enough, but to spur me on to action.

A Passion for Love

I am a woman with many passions but I so easily hide those passions. I am afraid. Afraid of what others might think, afraid of being mocked, afraid of rejection.

I have a passion first and foremost to be loved.

I know in my head that I am loved by God. I feel it in the touch of my precious children I have been given to nurture; I feel it in the warmth of the sun on my face at the top of a mountain where the scene around me screams of His creation; I feel it in the gentle nudges to be better and wiser and more trusting; I know it from the truths in His word.

I know in my head that I am loved by my family. I see it in my husband's eyes; I see it in the sweet little notes written to me in cursive and print and wobbly crayon; I see it in all the gifts & tasks & meals & calls & help that my family - both near and far - showers upon me.

I know in my head that I am loved by my friends. I hear it in the laughter we share over coffee, the tears and prayers we share through struggles, and the love I feel through hugs and calls and time spent together.

I am loved beyond what some can even imagine and still I struggle knowing it in my heart. I struggle when life doesn't seen to go the way I planned. I struggle when strife overtakes harmony. I struggle when small insignificant acts make me feel unloved.

As a passionate woman I FEEL. I feel the highs and lows; the ups and downs; the good and the bad. I suppose I wouldn't have it any other way.

My muse.

"It never works to write for someone else, or to do something because it's something I think I should be doing" a fellow blogger recently wrote. While I like to think I've never had a problem with the latter, the former made me examine the question, "Why do I write?" If I am not writing for someone else, for whom am I writing? When attending writing workshops, I am told to "know my audience." Is it for them I am writing? It is TO them I am writing, but is it really FOR them? That's an important question for me to answer for myself. If I write to impress someone I will not be writing with honestly or transparency or vulnerability. If my writing lacks those things, it is not a true reflection of myself. It is shrouded in pride and vanity and not worth the time in takes someone to read much less me to write. A few days ago I wrote the most honest, heartfelt words I have written in months. I was feeling lost, defeated, and at the end-of-my-rope. I did not try to edit my words or worry about how the person to whom I was writing would interpret those words. I was writing for myself - not selfishly - but for myself. I needed to vent, to de-stress, to pour out my emotions. My intent was not to impress or persuade or even send the words I was writing. And as a result, I let my guard down and simply wrote. In fact, it wasn't even a conscious decision, my situation that day stripped away all the facades I've carefully crafted and left behind only me. And I wrote.

Family Hike

Today we went on our first family hike together. After a slow start (we hit the trailhead at about 10:30 - too late to miss the heat of the day), it appeared that we would have a long trek ahead of us. About a quarter mile into a 2.4 mile round trip hike up the 400 foot bluff, Faith was already asking to turn around. "I'm ready to quit," she declared with enough force to make me dread the rest of the trip. Soon we realized a full bladder was to blame for her defeated attitude. (I must mention that she had relieved herself just 15 minutes earlier at the visitor's center - of course we wouldn't attempt such an endeavor without the obligatory stop.) A quick lesson in how to make due without modern facilities and we were back on our way. 400 vertical feet later, two very proud little hikers, mom, dad, and Benjamin (who had bounced his way up in the stroller) were enjoying the best tasting pb&j ever eaten! The hike down was punctuated with many exclamations of "look how far we've hiked" and "wow, we started way down there." As Faith and I neared the spot of her first "pit stop" she was amazed. "I can't believe when we were here on the way up I wanted to quit!" I told her how proud I was of her and she echoed the sentiment. We waited for Scott, Kate, and Benjamin to catch up so she could praise them too! A brief stop ("This museum is BORING, can we leave," announced Katherine) in the visitors center completed our outing to Scottsbluff National Monument. It was a wonderful time; the first of what we hope to be many such family outings. In fact, we've been doing some research and plan to hit the Devil's Backbone Loop trail near Loveland, CO next Monday. Care to join us?

Big Boy

Benjamin is very quickly becoming our "big boy" and no longer a baby. He is now nearly 20 months old and talking non stop. For awhile we kept track of his words and by 18 months old he was saying over 60 words - he's got to have over 100 by now! My favorite new word of his is "monkey" with lots of emphasis on the "key" and usually followed by the "ooh, ooh, ooh" monkey noise. He loves to applaud himself for all his big boy feats - jumping (his feet actually leave the ground a few millimeters now), helping pick up his toys, and pottying in the potty chair! Today after one of his accomplishments he looked at me and said, "Big boy? - me!", as he raised his hand in the air. He loves to raise his hand in the air to indicate he wants to be included. "Who wants ice cream?" Benjamin raises his hand. "Who wants chocolate milk?" Benjamin raises his hand. "Who wants to go outside?" Benjamin raises his hand and begins to jump excitedly. "Who is ready for a nap?" Benjamin scowls. He is so much fun!