Thoughts on Sunday Morning

It’s raining today.  Not a torrential rain, just a gentle spring rain that’s keeping it chilly.  I was up before everyone else in the house as I usually am on the weekend and just sat quietly for a while listening to the soft drip and patter of the rain.  It was nice while it lasted.   Before too long my husband got up to go get the Sunday paper, coffee, and bagels before he had to head off to church, and my older daughter got up to get ready for work (Oh the life of a retail worker!).  Now she’s at work, and hubby’s at church, the princess is still in bed, the dishwasher and clothes washer are both humming away and the radio is playing songs from my youth.  Right now, at this moment, I feel peaceful and content—a pocket of serenity for me to draw on when things start getting crazy this week, as I know they will between one thing and another.  I wish for you reading this at least one pocket of serenity to draw on when your week gets filled with too much to do and not enough time to comfortably accomplish it all.

Life is Hard, Life is Weird, Life is Beautiful

         Life is such a mixture of things.  We have choices to make, obligations to meet, and the combination can make your head spin.  It can be overwhelming to realize that every major decision we make, and some of the minor ones as well, affect us for the rest of our lives in one way or another.  Some of our decisions affect other’s lives, our parents, children, co-workers and friends; even strangers to some extent.  Sometimes life is weird, people not acting their age, sometimes for the better, sometimes not.  We can find ourselves talking to people we’d never imagined even crossing paths with let alone having a conversation with, or even a friendship with.  We can find ourselves seemingly out of our element only to find that we feel comfortable with the experience, and seek out similar opportunities in the future.  Our world as we know it can be turned upside down and we not only survive, but we thrive doing things we once feared or perceived as impossible.  Occasionally we need to look back, see where we’ve been, observe where we are, and consider where we’re headed.  Those are the times that we can see that over all life is beautiful, each experience a different thread in the tapestry of our lives creating amazing patterns and color combinations unique to each of us.  As the weather turns warmer, take some time to sit outside and look around and contemplate your life in all its difficulty, weirdness, and beauty.

Mothers Arms

Mothers arms are safe and warm

A place to rest from the storm

A place to laugh, a place to cry

A place of peace to wonder why

A place to feel your world’s ok

A place of comfort every day

When mothers’ arms are wrapped around

A nicer place cannot be found.

 

         I can still recall sitting on my mother’s lap, nestled in her arms as a small child.  It’s a feeling I miss when things get troubling in life; no other arms are quite the same.  I miss my mother, she’s been gone since 2005. I’m thankful that I have some wonderful memories to fall back on when I feel like I need that safe, restful place.

         My daughters are 23 & 20 and how I miss being able to scoop them up into my arms when they are upset, scared, or ill!  The next best thing to being in your mother’s arms is having your own child in your embrace.  Of course I can still hug them, but it isn’t the same as gathering them up and snuggling in the rocker, the little head resting over your heart as they calm down and relax into you.  What a wonderful thing it is to be able to do that for someone.  That, perhaps, is my favorite thing about motherhood—being able to comfort with such a simple thing as wrapping my arms around my children, making them feel safe without a word.

This Mothers’ Day hug your kids, or if you’re lucky enough to still have her near, embrace your mother; it will mean so much to you both.

Hope

Today I spent a few hours outside potting plants and pulling weeds.  Every spring I plant annuals in the hanging baskets and help my husband plant vegetables in large pots for the front deck.  We have so many huge old trees around that the sunniest place is our west-facing front deck.  It's pleasant to sit there in the summer twilight and watch the stars pop out while inhaling the scent of tomato plants and flowers.  Even those years when we just weren't feeling like it we planted flowers and vegetables.  Some years we get some tomatoes, a small eggplant or two, a couple of bell peppers and some zucchini from our deck garden, and some years we don't.  I think it's a sign of hope to do that.  Above my kitchen sink is a wood carving that says "HOPE".  There's always hope, I've found.  I like having hope around.  I've tried hanging out with hopelessness and despair; they are not good company at all.  They are energy sucking companions who keep you spiraling downward.  Hope sits quietly by your side, encouraging you to keep putting one foot in front of the other, take one breath at a time until you feel your feet under you again.  I don't know if our plants will bear fruit this year or just decorate our seating area, and I don't know if the annuals I chose will survive the "death valley" conditions their locations get in July, but we'll keep watering them and hoping.

Time for Sue!

Spring has finally arrived to my area in all its beautiful glory.  Gentle breezes, bright sunshine, cool nights and mornings; it doesn’t get any better than this!  It’s perfect and I’m trying to enjoy as much of it as I can.  Yesterday was so gorgeous, and all the planets aligned (so to speak), and I was able to declare the afternoon and early evening “the time for Sue”.  I got out of work a half hour early, did a couple of quick chores and sat down with a cold glass of cola.  With the widows open and the gentle breeze making the curtains lift and flutter I sat on my couch by the front door.  It was a quiet afternoon in the neighborhood so all I could hear besides the swishing of the washing machine was the tinkle of wind chimes and the bubble-plink-splash of the small fountain which sits between the boxwoods in front of the porch.  I admit to being lulled into a state of drowsiness and it was wonderful!  After about 20 minutes I forced myself to get up and make a cup of coffee—French vanilla light roast—and headed out with a folding chair to sit in the sun and wait for Hillary’s bus. All I can say is it was incredibly nice to sit in the warm sun sipping coffee , listening to the fountain, chirping birds and soft clinking of the chimes while watching bees and small white butterflies (my mother called them cabbage moths) flitting and floating in the warm sun.  Hillary and I sat in the sun for a few minutes before heading inside to resume normal routines until after dinner.  Once again it was time for me so I headed out to the porch with a cup of hot cider and a book until it was too chilly to stay out without a jacket or sweater.  Now I carry the memory of that idyllic time with me, and when I need a little break from things I can go there in my mind and feel a bit of the peace I felt during “Sue time”.  I hope spring comes to you soon if it hasn’t already and that you get some time to simply enjoy it.