{this moment}

Linking this week's (sister's got it all under control) moment to Soulemama.

{this moment}

Evangeline Faire

April 16, 2013

8 pounds, 11 ounces

Pure. bliss.

We are ever grateful.

{linking this magical moment to Soulemama.)

{this moment}

Linking this week's {Sunday afternoon nap} moment to Soulemama.

Dance of the Servants

I only mention it once.

I need to clean the bathrooms this afternoon... I breathe it, seemingly to myself, but I'm moving ever so slowly today so I move on to other things and decide to just see about it later.

But she hears me.

And while I'm clearing the table from lunch and my sons begin to wash the dishes, she clambers to the top of the washing machine and collects the cleaning bucket from the cabinet, filling it with fresh rags and every little thing one might need to clean bathrooms used by mostly boys... spray bottle full of vinegar; small container of homemade soap scrub for the sink and tub; cut-up sponges to fit her smaller hands...

And it isn't until she hops down and the telltale thump registers in my brain that Yes, I did say I needed to clean the bathrooms, and, oh dear, I must have said it aloud, that I breathe a deep, third-trimester breath and smile at her as I gather bleach and broom.

How could I think she would ever forget our sweet tradition?

Come, Cinderella, we must do our very best to finish before the ball tonight! Oh, I do hope we'll be allowed to go...

She giggles and skips ahead of me down the hall. Yes, Arabella, I'm sure we will- but we must finish before stepmother returns!

And the tradition continues while she sits on the counter and wipes the mirror, and I ask her from hands and knees at the base of the toilet, How will you change Mother's old-fashioned gown to be suitable for tonight?

I sneak side glances as I scrub, trade looking at brownish-yellow gunk for just a peek at blonde tendrils falling into her eyes, pink fingertips holding the rag that's resting in her lap now; she's pondering. Well, I think the ruffles must go. And since Mother was married when she wore it, it IS off-the-shoulder, so I must add some straps to make it 'popriate.

I hide a smile, though it reflects back at me from the basin. It sounds lovely, sister! I think I will polish her old brooch, and maybe the earrings, too. They've been stored away for ever so long, I say. 

And she sprays and I scrub and she wipes and I lumber in and out to start washer loads of towels and we giggle as we stand on the edge of the tub to unhook the shower curtain and all the while we are sisters, taking joy in our work for the reward of an imaginary ball.

It's the dance of a servant, this.

I'd chosen long ago not to complain aloud about some of my least-favorite duties, seeing how her green eyes followed and mimicked my every move (and emotion, and word, and body posture...), and as a result my Cinderella cannot wait to assist me in them.  My heart still resists, and I always find ways to put those horrid duties off, but her joy and eagerness pull me along till the job is done and I am always, always thankful.

And now she's shifting in and out of character, murmuring dreamily of future days with her coming baby sister; how they'll sketch in the woods, or sew by the wood stove.  She steps back from shiny sink and places fists on her slim hips: Why, the time positively flew, Arabella!

And I, heavy on hands and knees, weary face in the muck, swollen fingers in the mire... find my heart dancing.

{this moment}

linking this (perfect ending to a sick day) moment to Soulemama.

{pretty, happy, funny, real}

{pretty}

The braids of my youngest sister, who held my sweetly braided daughter on a recent hay ride.  They took my breath away.

{happy}

Scrabble, Pandora, and my honey, by candlelight.  He always wins, and I never mind.

{funny}

This sweet local deer loves to visit our little neighborhood.  Here she is on the church lawn next door, wearing her red ribbon proudly, though if she knew it was to protect her from hunters, perhaps she would not look so serene.

{real}

This one is two-fold.  In my tiny (but cozy) (and dishwasher-less) kitchen, I place as many reminders as possible to be in the moment.  The print on the wall, the scriptures ever before me, and to the right out of sight is another framed print of the fruits of the Spirit.  Look a little closer and you'll also see...

...the counting of the gifts.  Ann's prompts make me work hard at finding the gifts as I stand there, hands plunged deep in suds, back aching as I shift my weight from side to side, a boy-man to my right emptying the dish drain and talking my ear off about electrons or his puppy or how he wants me to cut the sleeves off of the too-small camouflage shirt so he can complete his soldier outfit.

On second thought, perhaps it isn't so hard...

(Find Ann's gratitude calendar here?  And be prompted daily to count with us?)

{this moment}

Linking this week's (special dance) moment to Soulemama.

Nature's Secret

Adopt the pace of nature:

Her secret is patience.

~Ralph Waldo Emerson

First week of school over here.  Trying to remember nature's secret; pausing in my flurry, waiting in my hurry...

...it's a beautiful life.

Evening Dance

(Preparing supper tonight and swaying to Fernando and remembering...how quickly the days ebb and flow...)

The oven timer beeps but the music calls me first.

I peek around the corner to see if my usual partner is coming to dance, but she is engrossed in her colored pencils and new found joy in the precision and care it takes to color in the weaving on Cinderella's basket one. section. at. a. time.

So he sees me first, from his perch by the fireplace, and shifts from fat diaper to hands and knees and tucks his chin into his chest and crawls, quickly but carefully in his tentative I'm-new-at-this way.

And I can see his cheeks puff out and I know he's smiling.

Flash of baby teeth and sparkle of drool and he rests on my hip, his fingers pinching my underarm familiarly. We sway, he reaching out one hand to bounce it to the rhythm and my hand raised high in praise for this good day...

And the music plays on so we squeeze tighter and begin to spin. He leans his head on mine and I turn my face to inhale that spot on his temple that makes my eyes roll back in my head and he gets a new grip on my hair and we twirl, breathless and tangled and I never want to stop. Never want to let go.

Because if I do, he'll be off to build forts and hit baseballs and take giant trash cans to the curb and divide numbers that make my head hurt and ride his bike too far for me to watch...

But the song ends, and we lock eyes. He grins, and I breathe Love you, G.

Beeping reenters my consciousness and I remember chicken browning in the oven and potatoes boiling on the stove and the dance is over.

I release my hair from his fingers and inhale once more and kiss open lips just learning how to show love like that and set him down at my feet.

And he crawls away.

sweet memory reposted from the archives

{Tell Me} A True Thing

(Some reposting going on here, lately, as I stumble in a morning-sickness fog through the days and my own words come back to haunt comfort me... His words, too...)

Her tears quickly soak the hair on the nape of my neck as I meet her in the hallway and scoop her into my arms. She sobs husky into my shoulder and clings tight, long legs wrapped around my waist.

Her cries have wakened me from a dream of my own, and I feel shaky myself standing there, blinking rapidly and patting her back.

Shhhhhh, precious, I whisper as we enter her room. It's all right now, Mama has you. Shhhhhhh.

I lay her back on the pillow and her arms fling frantic in the semi-dark, groping for me. I slide under the covers next to her and hold tight.

I'm scared, Mama- it's so dark! Don't leave! Don't leave... I soothe with hands through her hair, across her cheek, around her waist. I rub her back, my fingers tracing her spine and massaging shoulders. I'm scared... Don't leave me all alone in the dark! she sobs again, and I pull her chin up towards my face.

Tell me a True Thing, Eliana, I say firmly, and she quiets, breath coming shaky but slower.

You are with me, she gulps.

I smile and tuck her into my shoulder. What else? Tell me another True Thing, my girl.

God is with me. And I'm safe. My nightlight is on. And I like to make soup for Daddy!

Even in the dark, I feel her smile. Tell me a True Thing, Mama! What is true? I slide off the bed and begin to tuck and smooth the covers.

It is true that the Lord grants sleep to the ones that He loves. And it is so very true that He loves you!

We hug close, I whisper a prayer over her and pull the gossamer curtain around her bed and turn to the door.

Mama? she murmurs, blessed sleep coming quicker than I thought it would.

It is so very true that I love you.

I pray over my girl's room, my hand lingering on the doorframe. And I know He would have me listen deep...

For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light, (for the fruit of the light consists in all goodness, righteousness and truth) and find out what pleases the Lord. Ephesians 5:8-10

Today when tasks are overwhelming, when the toddler interrupts school work for the hundredth time, when dinner is late and husband has an evening meeting and the house is in chaos.... I will tell myself a True Thing.

Or twenty.

He loves me. He is with me. This will get easier. I will survive. I'll get better at this, if I work at it. I will find the time to work at it. The house is in chaos, but our home is intact. Eventually, they will all be asleep. And so will I. For He grants sleep to the ones that He loves.

I am blessed.

repost from the archives