Inspiration Book.

I'd like to introduce you to my Inspiration Book

It's simply a binder filled with carefully-torn magazine pages slipped into plastic sleeves for safe-keeping - images that conjure up certain feelings in me.  I've been adding to the book here and there for several years now.  Just recently, in our effort to get rid of clutter 'round the house, I sifted through all our magazines - past issues galore of Coastal Living, Everyday with Rachael Ray, Country Living, and Real Simple to name a few - and tore out the bits and pieces I wanted to save. 

Why? Oh, just to be inspired.  Just to admire design and nature, to let my own creativity be sparked anew. It could be a tiny portion of a single photo that I love, or an entire page, like a leaf-scattered street scene in a small New England town, or an autumn tree ablaze...

A deserted wooden dock on a lake with two empty chairs, or a cozy outdoor fireplace...

A perfectly rustic bedroom and kitchen that I could re-create on my own {much smaller} dime...

Other times it's the written copy on the page that catches my eye... 

The page above reads,

"A loon's cry breaks the silence of an early-morning walk along the shore.  A sprinkler throws off long, lazy curls of water that glow in the honey-colored light of late afternoon.  Screened porches serve as boxed seats for showy thunderstorms that rumble and blaze above the lake.  The clothes may have changed, but the pastimes are perennial."


It's wonderful to be inspired.  This book is far from perfect - page edges are torn and small photos are taped to the page quickly, edges overlapping.  It's just like art, though, "Art is the desire of a man to express himself, to record the reactions of his personality to the world he lives in." ~ Amy Lowell.  The goal of my Inspiration Book is not to make me pine away for another life that looks glossy on a magazine page.  Rather, I hope it inspires me to savor my own life more.  To see the art and beauty that is all around me, everywhere I look.

 

Bathtime.

"There must be quite a few things that a hot bath won't cure, but I don't know many of them." ~Sylvia Plath

This is the gloriousness I crawled into tonight, after a difficult, tiring day.  I seem to be living minute by minute lately, not looking too far ahead but just trying to embrace what is right in front of me at the time.  Yes, there is a multitude of laundry to fold, cloth diapers to stuff, dinner dishes to put in the dishwasher, but what could be better at this moment than soaking in a candlelit hot bath with a great book and a glass of wine?

And the best part?  I've always wanted a bathtub caddy but it seemed like a "luxury" purchase, ya know?  Then, as I was walking home from Bre's the other day, voila!  This stainless steel bath caddy was in someone's bulk trash pile on the side of the road!  I'm not ashamed to pick up someone's trash.  My unknown benefactor has no idea (her?) discarded trash is giving me such joy tonight.  It even has a taper candleholder and a spot for my Cabernet.  Could it be any more perfect?

So I nestled my current reading material - The Middle Place by Kelly Corrigan, a birthday gift from Suz - in between the terry-cloth turtle finger puppet, rubber duckie wearing a blue bowtie, and California Baby shampoo.  A pretty clear depiction of life these days - baby stuff invades everyday life, but mommy still manages to find ways for her old self to poke through.

I love this article my dear friend Kierstin wrote on the Art House America blog - it beautifully expresses the thoughts of many mothers who, like both Kierstin and I, struggle to keep our creative selves alive amidst the daily joys and challenges of motherhood.  Kierstin does a wonderful job of it and inspires me regularly across the miles.  Even something like a simple evening bath - bubbles, warmth, candlelight, immersing myself in good writing - speaks to that part of me, curing me from the ways I've pushed myself aside all day.  Inspiring me to take a few moments and write for myself, just for the expression of it.

Motherhood is far more wonderful than I ever knew it could be; it is also the most difficult, draining, challenging job I've ever had.  But it's nothing that a hot bath won't cure.

Mother.

"'What did you do today?'  I used to love being asked that question.  I took pride in my busyness and productivity.  What I do now can't be calculated like most people measure tasks.  I'm busy all day, but I don't have much tangible evidence to remind me of what I did, much less to recount to someone else.

I was a mother today.  I loved today, not always perfectly, but I did love.  I didn't earn any money today, but I did contribute to the good of the world.  I was a mother. 

Thank you, God, for giving me so valuable of a job."

~ from Meditations for New Moms by Sandra Drescher-Lehman

I could not have said it better myself...this is by far the most difficult job I've ever had in my life.  I'm not going to deny that I wrote this post today as therapy.  Or that I shed several tears this morning out of utter frustration. 

When my child won't go to sleep, may I be thankful that I have a child that can be active.  When I have no time to myself for days on end, may I be thankful that I have people who need me and that I have gifts to give.  When I forget why I am a mother, let me look at this sweet face and be thankful.  She makes it worth it. A million times over.

Necklace from Robbie Jenkins on Etsy.

Bittersweet giveaway winner!

Many thanks to everyone who posted comments to the Bittersweet book giveaway!  I loved reading them all and being reminded that there is no such thing as a perfect life.  We are all just trying to figure things out and live gratefully day by day.

So without further ado - the book giveaway winner!  Out of 23 comments, I used random.org to choose comment #19 - Kelly. This was Kelly's comment...

Today Bittersweet is my Husband putting his job on the line to stand up for what he believes in. It may cause us pain and hardship in the short term, but I know the rewards when he finds a job he loves will be worth it.

Thank you for sharing that, Kelly.  I don't have your contact info, so please use the "Contact" link on the left sidebar to send me your full name and address, and the book will be coming your way.

Much love to you all!

Bittersweet. (book review & giveaway!)

“This is what I’ve come to believe about change: it’s good, in the way that childbirth is good, and heartbreak is good, and failure is good. By that I mean that it’s incredibly painful, exponentially more so if you fight it, and also that it has the potential to open you up, to open life up, to deliver you right into the palm of God’s hand, which is where you wanted to be all along, except that you were too busy pushing and pulling your life into exactly what you thought it should be.”

~ Shauna Niequist, Bittersweet

You've heard me sing praises for the book Cold Tangerines by Shauna Niequist - it's a book that's left long-lasting waves of inspiration in my life, encouraging me to tell my own stories better, and reminding me that even the most ordinary daily events can be causes for celebration.

And now, Shauna has released her new book, Bittersweet: thoughts on change, grace, and learning the hard way, and what a brave book it is.  It's obvious that Shauna has lived a lot of life since Cold Tangerines - she's experienced bitter losses and unforgettable celebrations and emerged on the other side with much wisdom to share.  I'm so glad I get to hear that wisdom.  The result is a compilation of stories/essays that illustrate the concept of bittersweet - that both the bitter and the sweet are necessary in life.  "When life is sweet, say thank you and celebrate," she says.  "And when life is bitter, say thank you and grow."  For where I am right now, this concept couldn't be more true.

I read this book from cover to cover during the first few weeks of my baby girl's life - "bittersweet" indeed.  Perched upon my bed with wild unwashed hair, recovering from an unexpected c-section, nursing Luci Belle for hours and hours everyday...to say I was experiencing change would have been a gross understatement.   I felt more exposed and vulnerable than I ever have in my entire life, my mind and body pushed to their absolute limits of exhaustion. And yet I was practically knocked over by how much I loved this vulnerable little being with the chubby pink cheeks.  All the fears I'd had of motherhood went out the window when I touched her tiny soft toes. 

As I read the book during those beautifully exhausting hours, I found myself feeling thankful once again that I was not alone, that there is indeed someone else out there for whom change does not come easily.  I needed to be reminded that there is beauty and grace on the other side, that I would survive the delirium and get sleep again one day.  I needed to be reminded that the bittersweet moments are what life is really about.  Yes, there's some pain, some stretching, some strain, just like childbirth.  But through that pain and difficulty, you earn a different sort of beauty...

 “I’ve learned the hard way that change can push us, pull us, rebuke and remake us.  It can show us who we’ve become, in the worst ways, but also in the best ways.  I’ve learned that it’s not something to run away from, as though we could, and I’ve learned that in many cases, change is not a function of life’s cruelty but instead a function of God’s graciousness.”

For me, bittersweet is moving on from five sweet years of marriage and realizing it'll never be "just the two of us" again.  But instead we get to welcome our little girl into our world and our love. 

Bittersweet is also sacrificing a comfortable bank account - or any kind of security for that matter - to own a small business that brings life to our community and supports local farmers.  It's living in Dallas where community hasn't come easily like it did in Nashville, a city I still miss.  It's saying goodbye to friendships that had turned unhealthy in order to pour into those that are life-giving. 

* * *

I loved so many parts of the book, but one of the chapters that meant the most to me is “The Home Team."

“Everybody has a home team: it’s the people you call when you get a flat tire or when something terrible happens….These are the ones who tell you their secrets, who get themselves a glass of water without asking when they’re at your house.  These are the people who cry when you cry.  These are your people, your middle-of-the-night, no-matter-what people.”

Our "home team" is what enabled us to survive the first few months of our newborn daughter's life.  During the entire months of July and August, it seems we didn't even have a spare minute to look at the day's mail, much less handle daunting tasks like fixing breakfast or doing laundry.  As we waded through a fog of sleeplessness, diaper changes, and swaddle blankets, our home team scurried around the house, cleaning out cabinets, preparing meals, walking the dogs, putting dishes away. Our home team is full of people who sacrifice a Saturday evening to take turns holding our baby so we can get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.  They are the people who kiss and cuddle her and care for her just the way we do.  They don't blink an eye at being asked to mop the kitchen floor.   All the while, I received them at my worst - tired, haggard, without a lick of makeup, my belly jiggling like a bowl full of pudding.

Here are a few photos of them: visiting us in the hospital...

...and gathering for a recent meal around our farm table...

These days, I’m reminded that I can’t do it all.  Things will never be the same as they were before I had a baby.  I can no longer keep a hundred plates spinning at once, it takes a lot more intention and effort to love my husband well, and I certainly don't remember the last time I dusted or mopped the floor.   But I see my little girl giggle and am reminded of what really matters.  Those hands and toes won't be tiny forever.  

So I guess I'm learning to fall in love with change.  Sometimes it's about putting ourselves in situations that are risky, and sometimes it's just about embracing what is thrown our way.  I'll take all of it - the struggles and the joys.  In Shauna’s words, “I’m so thankful to live in this physical, messy, blood-and-guts world.”  I thank God for not allowing me to stay in the stagnant places and for extending grace when it's the last thing I deserve. Here on the fringes, I get to experience all the fullness of life - the difficult and the lovely, the bitter and the sweet.

* * *

AND NOW FOR THE BOOK GIVEAWAY...

Shauna Niequist is kindly giving away 1 autographed copy of Bittersweet for one of my blog readers!  To enter the giveaway, post a comment below and tell me what the word "bittersweet" means in your life.  On Wednesday, October 6th, I'll choose the winner from a random drawing.

 



The Summer Day.

I've been wanting to get into Mary Oliver's poetry lately, and then I saw this poem on another blog today.  It's beautiful...

The Summer Day
by Mary Oliver

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean--
     the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
     the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
     who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down--
     who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
     into the grass, how to kneel in the grass,
     how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
     which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
With your one wild and precious life?

What I'm learning right now...

Yes, this is it.  This is exactly it.

"Because of this, the very transparency that moves us close to others sharply separates us from some. Seeing what we see, we feel a distance from those conversations that are accumulations of what-I-did, and where-I've-been, and who-I-know and what-I-own.  The seeing that sees through these things makes it harder to enter into dialogue with those who live by things.  Transparency sees some modes of life crumbling to ashes before our very eyes.  We can no longer live for the dreams that some are moved by.  Silence, stillness, a dreaming within us calls us to a depth that cannot even be spoken of.

So our clarity loosens and disentangles us from some kinds of amusement and conversation.  As we become more aware of an inner reality, some kinds of business and occupation seem totally beside the point.  We no longer live, as we once did, for doing.  Now what we burn for is stillness.  We cultivate not the pleasures of going and coming and doing, but the peacefulness and abandonment of not-doing, which is an experience of the wonder of God.  It is the clarity that knows less is more, the realization that we need not carve our mark upon existence, so much as we need to let it carve its mark upon us."

~ from Clinging: the Experience of Prayer by Emilie Griffin (p. 50)

Lake Tahoe adventures.

In Lake Tahoe, you'll find cozy rental cabins nestled in piney woods on quaint streets carpeted with pine needles.  Amidst the pine needles are scattered pine cones larger than your forearm, mostly ignored by locals but considered treasures to tourists like us.  The landscape is so unique - from the middle of the lake outward: dark green water turns to emerald to turquoise to clear.  At the shoreline, sandy beaches are dotted with patches of snow into which trees have been stuck like candles on a birthday cake.  Pine-covered hills merge into snow-capped mountains, and then into the bluest sky.  Is this the same California where I've wiggled my toes in warm sand on the edge of the Pacific, watched surfers ride the waves at Manhattan Beach?  Or have we mistakenly landed in Canada, Switzerland, or France?

Our week there with Steven's family (his mom, dad, sister, and her husband) was everything a relaxing vacation should be: enjoying the lake, eating incredible home-cooked food, taking naps and hot baths in our jacuzzi tub, playing games like Monopoly and dominoes, and gazing out the window at Heavenly Mountain's deserted slopes - not really staring at anything in particular, just soaking in the scenery.

The first full day in Tahoe, we rented a speedboat and zipped freely around the lake - it was a Monday afternoon, ski season had just ended, and it seemed like the lake was completely ours...

My husband the boat captain

Mother & son

Around lunch time, we puttered carefully into Emerald Bay's shallow waters and turned off the boat engine.  Emerald Bay is the second most photographed location in the U.S., second to the Grand Canyon.   I can see why...it's absolutely sparkling.  In the middle of the bay sits the only island in Lake Tahoe - Fannette Island - which houses an enchanting castle at the very top that the owner used for tea parties.  It was so quiet there, so clear.  We sat in the boat in the sunshine and ate a delicious lunch of homemade chicken salad and Korean kimbap - mmm.

With our stomachs full, we began cruising again until we came upon stunning Camp Richardson.  Again, we were literally the only ones there...

Windblown but utterly happy, we returned to our hotel - Marriott's Timber Lodge - and had an amazing dinner to celebrate Steven's dad's 60th birthday.  This table is where we ate 17 consecutive home-cooked meals together over 7 days' time.  There is something special about sharing meals made together with your own hands, effort and love.

The next two days, it was suddenly snowing and in the 30s, and the fierce winds kept us inside happily playing games and eating snacks of Spicy Thai Kettle Chips, smoothies from the Vitamix, and Monster cookies.

When the snow subsided, the sky was strikingly clear again and we set off on a drive to explore the lake from a different perspective.  This time, we saw Emerald Bay from above, looking out over the calm waters where we'd enjoyed our picnic lunch in the boat a few days earlier.

This is their "band" shot

When we weren't on outdoor adventures, Steven and I caught up on Food Network.  We soon discovered that, yes, Giada is still annoying when she says "spageeeeti," and Barefoot Contessa is still adorable when she adds another pinch of sugar and asks with her mischievous grin, "How bad could THAT be?"  Steven read the first two books in the Hunger Games series, and I finished Donald Miller's newest book, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years and Elisabeth Elliot's These Strange Ashes.  We barely ever checked the time.

I'm so thankful we were able to spend time with family and savor these rare moments.   One day I'll tell our little girl about how we saw this beautiful world together when she was still happily nestled in my tummy, how it felt to breathe that fresh mountain air as I hiked to a vista and the clouds gently floated over the pines.