reflections

After a Fall

~ onehopefulyear ~ Leave a comment

dsc_0414-2I don’t how it’s possible, but I can go from feeling life-satisfied and competent one minute … to a total failure the next.

It happens. It’s not reasonable or rational. But it happens.

It happened Monday morning.

All out of nowhere and despite my very best efforts to keep it all together. 

“It all” can mean one thing on a Monday and something entirely different on a Thursday … but mostly, “it all” is life and whatever living needs doing that day.

And as much as I can try to get and keep my own ducks in a row, my life intersects with other – important to me – lives … and one phone call can scatter all the ducks to the far corners of the lake.

And that’s exactly what happened Monday morning as I readied myself for the day.

A text. Followed by a Face-time phone call. And my day went left, not right.

Afterwards, all preoccupied with a thousand, thousand thoughts, I packed all my bags … the book bag, the lunch bag, the gym bag … and headed out the door, across the porch, and down the steps.

The icy steps.

After that very first step … I slipped … and my whole body, bags and all, seemed to fly up in the air … and back down again. Hard. On the granite steps.

And I sat there for a minute. Whimpering. Bruised. And feeling  a little bit defeated,  I think.

I looked around.

Whimpered a bit more.

And stood up.

Sometimes it takes a bit of encouragement to get back up after a fall. Here’s a link to a daily affirmation … Thought for Today … which can be sent right to your inbox. I’ve been receiving their daily emails for years now, and more often than not … the inspiration, motivation, or encouragement offered that day is exactly what I needed to hear.

#hopefortoday

 

 

Thrive

~ onehopefulyear ~ Leave a comment

dsc_0639-2

In this weekend of living, there’s cookies to bake for co-workers who’ve helped me out. There’s the usual cleaning and laundry, the new book idea I’d like to get organized, and the bills to review.

I’d like to experiment with some bread baking, change the sheets, and deal with some of that junk in the cave we call a basement. At some point, I’ll need to work through all the paperwork I brought home, plan for next week, and order that photography equipment.

Of course, there’s always the photographs I’d like to take.

And if the storm holds off, we’ll be able to go out to dinner as a family.  Have some fun, face-to-face, and conversation too.

So it’ll be a busy weekend, and somewhere in between, I’d like to find some time to exercise, read a little, knit a bit — and nap.

Obviously, my list is lofty.

Eventually, I’ll pare it down to manageable and in the end, maybe the necessary will get done.

What’s even more important to me, however, is the unnecessary — because it’s all that stuff that feeds me and my soul, that nourishes my body and mind in a wholesome, heart beating way.

I thrive because of the unnecessary.

So when I’m looking through the list, it’s the unnecessary I’ll prioritize. The family and the photographs, the bread baking, writing, and napping. The reading. The cookies.

The love.

Whatever’s necessary will have wait.

 

 

In the Company of Strangers

~ onehopefulyear ~ 2 Comments

dsc_0353-5

I live my life day to day to day – some days more consciously than others – but mostly by habit. Some habits work. Others, not as much. Sometimes I need an adjustment. A refresh. A new perspective. A priority shift.

Can you name ten people who nudge you awake?

I can. And they’re all absolute strangers.

These ten women tilt my head just so. They elevate my thinking, invite me to question, and energize my motivation. I’ve visited with all of them this year in the pages of their books and blogs.

How I love and linger over the artistry and passion in their words. Their photographs.

I’ve read their prayers and admissions, seen into their imaginations, felt their doubts, and witnessed their celebrations. I’ve sat many a morning or deep into the night nodding my head in appreciation of their compassion and humor, the ways they love, and how they parent. Of each, I admire their bravery, talent, and how very boldly they question what is now and what has gone before. And gently, kindly ask us all: What is next?

I’ve been inspired as a writer, photographer, mother, dreamer, doer … and human.

When I was in graduate school, I read The Education of Little Tree, by Forrest Carter. This quote stays within me:

“… when you come on something that is good, first thing to do is share it with whoever you can find; that way, the good spreads out to where no telling it will go.”

So here’s some good … spread it out wide as you can … no telling where it (or you) will go.

  1. Erin Boyle, author of Simple Matters: Living with Less and Ending Up with More – Erin also blogs at Reading My Tea Leaves.
  2. Erin Loechner, blogs at Design for Mankind. Erin’s new book, Chasing Slow, launches in January.
  3. Shannan Martin, author of Falling Free: Rescued from the Life I Always Wanted. Shannan blogs at Shannan Martin Writes, formerly Flower Patch Farmgirl.
  4. Kelle Hampton, blogs at Enjoying the Small Things, author of Bloom.
  5. Elle Luna, author of The Crossroads of Should and Must: Find and Follow Your Passion
  6. Beth at Local Milk.
  7. Linda at Linda Stoll.
  8. Kendra at The Lazy Genius Collective.
  9. Joanna Goddard at Cup of Jo.
  10. Grace Bonney at Design Sponge, author of In the Company of Women: Inspiration and Advice from over 100 Makers, Artists, and Entrepreneurs

Writing Desk

~ onehopefulyear ~ Leave a comment

dsc_0351-2A few weeks ago, we moved the old, oak writing desk upstairs to our bedroom. It’s been a migrating piece of furniture since we moved here three years ago. We’ve got 1800 square feet, occupied by five adults, and I’m always fidgeting around with the space – trying to make better use of it, yes, but also trying to find a place of my own.

To write.

Do all writers have a vision of their writing space? Some sort of ideal?

Mine’s a little rustic and romantic, the floor piled high with towers of books, a desk with an oldish swing arm lamp, and maybe a chair to sink in.

Moving the desk to our bedroom is a step toward some privacy, some quiet, a place to retreat when the downstairs living gets loud or the space too close.

In truth, there’s only been a wee bit of writing done here so far. As a large, flat surface, it’s been ideal for stacking piles of clean laundry, craft projects, and wrapping Christmas presents.

It takes time for a space – or a dream – to evolve. So I am patient.

I coax myself into believing and doing. It’s a private conversation I’ve had often. Still, Christmas has now come and gone and this morning is silent. The desk is clear and newly dusted.

If I’m lucky, some sun will dapple my pages each morning. The light, I suspect, will help me find the right words.

I’ve even cleaned out each of the three drawers, reclaiming these small pieces of real estate for my pens. Paper. Journals. Bits and scraps of memory too small to keep anywhere else.

Moving the bills, the checkbook, stamps, and envelopes downstairs and out of the desk changed its vibe from work-a-day responsibility to some sort of curved and claw-footed work of art.

dsc_0358-2

There’s creativity waiting in this desk.

It’s as clearly mine as if I’d carved my name in the smooth oak wood.

Well then, no more excuses.

Time to write.

Acceptance, Courage, and Wisdom

~ onehopefulyear ~ 2 Comments

dsc_0748

Acceptance.

Courage.

Wisdom.

I first became acquainted with the Serenity Prayer as a young girl. Alcoholism lived through and through my family, and according to information I’ve just found, the Serenity Prayer was adopted as a kind of anthem prayer of Alcoholics Anonymous in 1942.

My grandmother sometimes brought me to the Al-Anon meetings she attended, and I remember my mother embroidering the prayer, framing it, and hanging it front and center in our home – the first thing you saw when you walked in the door.

Funny how I remember a detail like that. Just now.

Probably because it’s now I need it most.

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time;
enjoying one moment at a time;
accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
that I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
forever in the next.
Amen.

There’s no doubt times are tough. For many of us. And for as many reasons as there are people. Your reasons may not be mine, nor the reverse, and perhaps we share some common troubled ground.

But I’m hanging my hope for today and tomorrow on that prayer. On faith. On hope. As best I can, as much as I can, for as long as I can.

I will begin with acceptance, moving forward, and saving all my energy for whatever action is needed. I’ll find the courage to act when I can and and however I should, all the while searching for the signs which direct me to that pathway to peace – fairly certain I’ll be pointed in the right directions as need be. I trust in my own wisdom and the collective wisdom of those I respect, honor, and look up to.

Here’s some suggestions for living out the Serenity Prayer in our every day:

  • Do normal things. One way to firmly plant my feet on the ground at times of trouble is to find comfort and courage in the normal. Change the sheets. Respond to student journals. Bring the recycling to the curb. All regular. All routine. All necessary.
  • Restore order. When I feel anxious, stressed, or like the world’s spinning out of control, I look for ways to restore order in my world. This week that means cleaning out the linen closet and reorganizing the pantry shelves which somehow – as I’ve been preoccupied with other things – have taken on a life of their own. Side note: I’m all set with confectioners’ sugar for a good long while.
  • Alternate self-care with other-care.  Now’s the time to be gentle with ourselves and others. Be on the lookout for ways to be kind, tender, and nurturing. Tough times invariably bring out the very best of us, but we need to be well-rested, well-fed, and emotionally, physically, and spiritually healthy enough to be so. Remember to laugh. It’s no accident our comedians are the very first to help us sort through our feelings by bringing us a laugh.
  • Look for opportunities to help.  Because they’re out there.

I’m remembering Mr. Fred Rogers who’s quoted as follows:

“When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, “Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.” – Fred Rogers

When my family, students, and community members look around, I want them to                  see me as one of those helpers.

  • Share.  Your thoughts. Your fears, worries, hopes, and gratitude. Share of yourself. Your resources. Your inspiration. Your ideas. And dreams. Now, more than ever, is the time to reach out to others. We are not alone.

I started this blog as my personal reminder and an invitation to whomever reads … to hope – year after year. I remain committed to that hope – in what’s left of this year, and the next, and the one after that.

Together, we can.

 

Taking Steps

~ onehopefulyear ~ 2 Comments

dsc_0823-2According to the Fitbit strapped around my wrist, I logged close to 7,000 steps by the end of yesterday’s work day.

It’s interesting to think about how many different kinds of steps there are: Long, purposeful strides. Short steps bridging space between this person and the next.  Steps on stairs, up and down, and those errand kinds of steps taken to get things done.  I’ve noticed how my steps slow a bit when my thoughts stall and I don’t quite remember where I was going, or why.

dsc_0725-2Home steps aren’t all that different than work steps, really. Back and forth between the dishwasher and the cupboard, the stove and the fridge, down the stairs to the laundry room, and back up the stairs to fold. Steps walked in circles to pick up, put away,  and tidy. My very favorite home steps: my husband washes dishes  and I dry, walking and talking and loving right there at the sink.

dsc_0738-2

I take slippered steps down the stairs in the morning to my coffee pot and my writing. I’m ready to take on the world and tackle the list when I lace up my sneakers. I wonder about the steps my sons’ shoes have taken as I curse where they’ve been left and I trip over them, one more time.

dsc_0730

The very best kind of steps are thoughtful and slow. Meandering steps. Steps and stops. Ellipses steps … like pauses … taken almost always on a Sunday with my camera in hand. Smiling steps.  Hopeful steps. Happy steps.

dsc_0734

Roles

~ onehopefulyear ~ 5 Comments

2016-10-07-20-36-34I’ve been a teacher this week. A wife. A mother. A daughter, sister, and friend. I’ve also been an insurance claim reviewer, a bill payer, and some sort of  unpaid hybrid of an Uber driver and chauffeur. I’ve been both problem solver and whiner. The very best of me and only a shadow of what I should be.

So it’s been a regular week.

I’ve been thinking a lot about how I choose to spend my time. In the scheduled blocks of my day, much of my time is spoken for, but what I’m becoming gradually more aware of is the wide open and unspoken for spaces in the daybook.

So far this season, I’ve not dropped any balls, but I sure do get tired of juggling. Ask anyone what I complain about most and, presidential election aside, they’d likely say my consistent go-to is lack of time. I rush and stress and hurry and power walk through the hallways of my day until the sun sets, and it’s time for David Muir on World News Tonight.

From Friday’s perspective, I look back over the week and see how far I’ve walked to make it to this point in time. What I’m questioning, however, is not how far I’ve traveled but rather, how much I remember about the journey. What stands out as the moment to be most savored? In all seven days from one Friday to the next, what felt most important?

There’s a bit of rain outside this morning, and it’s peppering my thoughts,  We’re in the midst of a severe drought, so the rain is welcome. I’ve been so worried about our well. I hear the splash and splat, the growing and then easing of intensity, the gathering water spilling from the roof and trees,  I’m thinking about the leaves. How many will hang on though the storm and how many will fall?

It’s Friday morning. And today, I’ll be a teacher. A wife, mother, daughter, sister, and friend. But I’ll also be a woman who listens to the sound of rain. A woman who thoughtfully chooses how to live better in those wide, open spaces. I’ll be a slow breather, a daydreamer, and a watcher of leaves.

And I hope someone will ask me about the moment most savored. Because today, I’ll know how to answer.

Saying No

~ onehopefulyear ~ 2 Comments

dsc_0374-2

There are weeks when life lives you.

Meetings. Appointments. A deadline. Or two. An unexpected delay. Bad timing.

You know.

Wednesday – or maybe it was Thursday? – I thought I was going here, but I needed to go there instead. And I could pencil plans in my datebook, but I’d better be sure I kept my eraser handy.

(At last count, I’ve rescheduled my annual eye exam three times.)

All of that erasing can be stressful.

Until you decide not to give in to the stress.

It’s best, I think, when you realize it’s one of those weeks to just drop the reins along with any other attempts at control.  Just give your way over to the gallop, hang on, and find out where you end up.

I was a little resistant at first, I admit, and hopeful maybe life would slow to a more gentle trot by week’s end.

But it didn’t.

Honestly, when life lives you on weeks like this, our homes show the strain. Yesterday’s coffee cup and water bottles sit side by each on the kitchen counter along with mail and newspapers. Our dining room table’s served up a main course of folders, binders, miscellaneous this, thats, and the others.

Let’s not even discuss the laundry and trail of outfits I’ve lived in this week, left behind like breadcrumbs in case I need to find my way back to sane.

Which is where I was.

Last Sunday.

So be it, stress. Whatever.

Yesterday, I moved from room to room like a butterfly drifting from flower to flower.

Serene and saying no … to stress.

All that chaos. All that clutter. Each piece of evidence that life’s been a little … irregular … tucked away, back where it belongs. Doing what I could to quiet life where I live.

Order restored.

And a little bit of sanity too.

 

 

Blue Plate Special

~ onehopefulyear ~ 2 Comments

image

A few weeks ago, one of our neighbors knocked on the front door. He carried a whole plate of delicious in one hand and a dog leash in the other. It was hard for him to juggle both, I think, but he outstretched his hand with that blue plated cake, offering our family a sweet dessert.

And a little love.

We’d had a rough stretch over here on this side of the street.  Awkward stuff to talk about, really, and we stood there he and I, neither sure what to say. So we chatted a bit instead about his dog and probably the weather, but care and kindness were there – passed from his hand to mine, neighbor to neighbor, friend to friend, family to family.

The blue plate traveled back across the street today warmed by  a 3 x 3 array of cinnamon sugar pumpkin muffins, just out of the oven.

Once upon a time ago, I learned or read or heard never to return a dish empty. For a long time, I supposed such a custom to be about good manners.

I know now it’s about gratitude.

Each tiny muffin a warm thank you from our home to theirs.

Reaching out from one side of the street to the other.

And heart to heart.

P.S.  If you’d like to bake these oh-so-moist and autumn-inspired muffins, I used a recipe from Inspired by Charm. Mine came out more muffin-like than donut-like. They sure looked cute nested in their crisp, white muffin liners!

 

 

 

Learning How to Transition

~ onehopefulyear ~ 2 Comments

DSC_0359 (2)

I don’t transition well.

Never have.

I was always the kid who cried when it was time to go home. The one who begged for one more minute in the pool or one more TV show before bed.

It’s not that I want more necessarily, it’s just that I’m not quite ready for whatever’s next. A here and now kinda girl, I’m always and forever just settling in to wherever I am.

So summer’s moving on. This fact both leaves me in deep denial and also some small amount of panic.

Because I’m only just now getting into the swim of it.

There are still projects undone, photographs not yet taken, adventures left on the list of places to go and all of a sudden, mums are out at the garden center!

Wait a minute, summer … I’m not ready!

Clearly, I need a plan.

Here’s how I’ll try to transition:

Find your loves. Look for what you love in whatever’s coming next. In fall, I love boots and jeans, wool blankets, football, plaids, pumpkins, cider donuts, and new notebooks. You may remember I have a thing for notebooks.  And, of course, there’s beautiful, New England foliage – summer’s going away party.

Learn something. I’m enrolling in a digital photography course starting in September. It was a summer list to-do, but easily carried over to fall. Hopes and dreams aren’t limited by  the date on the calendar. Check out your local adult education programs. Ours has everything from soap making to conversational Spanish to ballroom dancing.

Make room in the schedule. There’s still time for porch sitting, beach walking, and book reading. Build a fire in the pit out back to remember the weekend you went camping. Collect acorns instead of shells and trade salads for stews. See that’s the thing: there’s room in life to love it all. And live it all.

Spend time outside. There’s wide open  air out there, no matter the season. Sun to feel on your face. There are breezes and the smells carried by them. Say so long to the honking geese headed south and kick through the leaves gathering on the sidewalk. Bundle up and walk down the road through fall afternoons, pinking your cheeks and filling your lungs.

Think ahead. Of course we transition on other days and in other ways. We’re transitioning all the time from one season to the next, and from today to tomorrow. What kind of postcards will you want to send from this next season in your life? Where will you go? What souvenirs will you bring back with you?  Live in this one single day, but remember: Tomorrow’s ready for new memory making. Bring your camera.