Fall and Rest

It has been almost two years since I last posted anything on my blog. It's not a coincidence that two years ago, I also began working full-time for the first time ever. Yes, my years at home were busy. Yes, the things I did within my home were and are still important. But somehow a shift to full-time work was bigger than I realized it might be. It's also true that for years my writing centered around my children and the things they would say and do. It's surreal to now be able to say- I have adult children. And for the last several years, their stories have not been mine to tell.

Today a friend mentioned that she's dreading the drop in temps that are predicted to start tomorrow. We've still been enjoying 80 degree weather, shorts and t-shirts, evening walks with the dog and citronella candles on the porch. I can relate to how my friend feels about the next season beginning in earnest. I used to dread fall and winter; the lack of color and warmth about did me in. But then I turned 40 and my perspective changed. I can hear the crickets and geese outside my window- but I don't dread October.

Nature has a rhythm. Spring is full of energy and activity; summer is growth and yields from the garden; fall is the final harvest time of the season and finishing up final preparations before winter; winter is rest with shorter days and cold.

There is something appealing to me when I think about shorter days, cooler weather and time at home with a type of forced rest. I look forward to pulling out the soup recipes, washing up the fuzzy blankets and gaining an extra hour with the time change. My mom once shared that she loved having a baby during the winter, because it gave her an excuse to stay inside and stay home. It was a sense of forced rest that freed her from feeling any obligation to say "yes" to the abundance of requests that came from church, community and family.  I sometimes feel I need an excuse to stay home and rest, too. 

Around mid-summer, a heavy fatigue set in. Part of it was concern for family with health issues, children with life issues and simply being over-committed. Stepping away from a few commitments for several weeks was uncomfortable, but so needed. It gave me margins that I hadn't been tending on my own and helped me to reset boundaries. Coming back to a few of those commitments brought me joy, not dread, and it came from a place of rest that yielded readiness.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”  Matthew 11:28-30

Be Gentle

 It's been so good to return to campus a few days a week and spend time with my colleagues. In a conversation yesterday, a friend at work asked me if I had set any goals for 2021. Honestly? No. We have some big decisions to make with Brenna this year and a son working hard to graduate on time. I feel like keeping the family boat afloat is about all the goal I can manage. But as she shared a history her husband's family had of setting goals each year: spiritual, financial, personal, physical, it prompted me to pause and reconsider. I decided that my singular goal for this year is to meal plan each month a few weeks at a time and then stick to it. 

I'm not setting goals in each realm this year. I had even doubted grabbing onto a word for the year. But as January has begun and I've watched things continue to unfold around me in my community and nation, the phrase that keeps coming to mind is "Be gentle". 

My goal is to be gentle with myself and others. I will be gentle with myself by allowing time for creativity, thought and writing. I will continue to let go of responsibility for Brenna and see if she is willing to pick it up or not- that will make the decision of our future easier to sort through. I will be gentle by purposely spending time in prayer, seeking His purpose for my day.

I will be gentle with others by listening and not forming my response while they speak, by truly considering their viewpoint and what they are trying to express to me.

That's it. And maybe try to walk the dog- she's good about reminding me to do that though. Did you set any goals this year, or decide not to? I'd love to hear about what any plans - or a decision not to plan- looks like for you.

Philippians 4:5

Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near.

Yellow

When we moved into our house last spring, we opted to repaint a few rooms. When one starts to paint a room-- one  begins to notice things in a new way. Crouched on the floor taping trim, we could see specks of yellow. Yellow in the living room, yellow in the bathroom, yellow on the trim itself that had been repainted white. The outside of the house is yellow. The kitchen tile is lemon yellow. As Greg and I talked over house priorities, it became obvious. 1. Repaint or reside the exterior a neutral color. 2. Remove the yellow kitchen tile and replace with white tile.

Two days after moving into the house, work announced big changes and we were told that his job was safe for one year. So, the yellow tile stayed. I was somewhat resentful about leaving it in place. It was so dated, so 80's, so not me at all. And there is so much of it. Whoever designed and built the kitchen was downright generous with the tiling job. But life is busy with four teens. And on an average day, I don't find myself with a lot of down time to contemplate tile color.

With shelter in place extending after weeks at home, I found myself spending more time than ever in my kitchen cooking. We're home for lunch and together for dinners too, so the kitchen has been a busy place. It's funny how I notice things about my house in a new way when I'm spending more time there. The tile cleans up easily. A few sprays of windex and a paper towel make it shine. And when it's clean and the kitchen is picked up, it's bright and sunny. Somehow I notice the light reflecting from the tile more than I notice the yellow.

It would be a big job to replace it. And if we replaced tile, we might as well replace the counter. And if we replace the counter, the cabinets will really look old next to new counter.... It begins to feel like a domino effect of time and money that I just don't want to tie up right now.

Walking through Wal-Mart this afternoon, I passed a little display of tiny trees. Among the lilacs and greens was a small lemon tree with bright yellow, plastic lemons. I circled around back to the display and picked up the little tree. It looked so sweet and so, well, happy.  When I brought it home, I cleaned out the little corner of the counter by the microwave and settled it into place. It looks right at home there.

"I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength." Philippians 4:12-13

Hope

One afternoon last summer, it was Max's turn to mow the yard. Our backyard at the new house is very different from the backyard at the old house-- this one is full sun. There is a small pine tree, some landscaping grasses and an attempt at a berm that is really just a small, dry hill. As Max made his rounds with the weed eater along the fence, he stopped to study a tiny oak tree growing at the edge. It caught his attention because the closest oak tree in the neighborhood is a few houses away. Max is my "noticer". He sees tiny differences and details in people and his surroundings. Leave it to him to see that tiny little tree.

Where Max comes from, oak trees are special. They symbolize something very small becoming something towering, strong and enduring. Latvians use oak bark for medicinal purposes and in tea and still weave together oak leaves for Jani, to wear the wreaths for summer solstice.

This tiny oak was 1 inch tall, truly a baby. Within minutes, Max had dug it up and transplanted it in the center of the yard, marking the presence of the tiny tree with a large wooden stick. "See Mom? Someday it will be a mighty oak".

There it's been all winter long. It's dealt with ice, snow and our dog chasing her ball over the entire area. The marker hasn't moved, but I had questioned if the tree made it through the winter.

I decided to mow the yard today. My mind has been mulling over so many thoughts and there is something about push mowing that tends to just give you time to think. As I made my rounds in the back, there was the tiny tree. It's almost impossible to see it until you're almost on top of it. But the marker is there and  continues to protect it from the mower.

Seeing that little tree gives me hope and it makes me happy. That tiny tree has been seen. It has been saved from death in the fence row and transplanted where it can have a future. It has tiny buds on it-- it's growing and continuing to develop a root system. And I have no doubt it will still be there next summer and the summer after that.





                                            

Off Kilter

Things have just felt off kilter this week. We are creatures of habit at our house and when a routine is disrupted, the ripples of change travel quite a ways out in the family pond.

Monday was birthday day-- I had taken the day off from work, Brenna had plans to visit the zoo and eat lunch at Olive Garden and Sam would choose dinner and have friends overnight. Then everything changed. Somehow between Friday and Monday, everything looked different. As last week progressed, I hesitated to invite friends to a sleepover and we decided to wait. Then the zoo trip transitioned from St. Louis to Bloomington before landing at "maybe in a few weeks when the weather is warmer..."

Ugh. I felt like a failure as a mom. Birthdays are supposed to be special, YOUR DAY, with special food, fun outings and friends. It's not supposed to involve homemade pizza and mom working the majority of the day. But here's the deal- it is what it is.

So, we shifted gears. Brenna chose pizza, Sam didn't care about food at all and after dinner concluded, we had cake and ice cream. Brenna's request for the evening was that we all play games. I hadn't played charades in a long time. I hadn't played hide and go seek even longer. But as we just acted silly and rolled with it, phones were set aside. Media was ignored and the "off kilter" feeling began to wane.

A good friend has said many times, "Expectations aren't good or bad. They just are." I tend to carry around expectations that I am not even aware of-- that my work schedule won't change, that my lifestyle can continue without interruption, that I will be able to find ground beef for taco night on a whim. When that expectation goes unmet-- off kilter.

Sometimes to counter balance off kilter, it requires doing something unexpected and out of the norm. Whether it's a random act of kindness, hiding rocks in the neighborhood, eating lunch on the patio or walking by the lake-- even if you don't "feel like it", just spin yourself silly by doing something new and unexpected today. It might actually make you feel more grounded instead of simply dizzy.

Traditions and Perspectives

We took down the Christmas tree today. By "took down", I mean carried it out and threw it into the fire pit. Brenna was distraught when she thought for a moment we might only take it to leaf/limb drop-off.

"Aren't we going to burn it?" 

Part of the fun of having a live Christmas tree from our local Rural King is lighting it on fire as Easter approaches. (He is risen indeed!). I'm not sure how a Christmas tree in March can produce flames 8 feet tall, but we look forward to it every year. Honestly, it's an inappropriate tradition that we all love.

Our other tradition is the gingerbread houses. My boys aren't as excited about this, but the girls still love it. This year we waited until after Christmas. Wow-- $1.89 will take you all the way with the gingerbread kit at Aldi today. Emily's looked neat and tidy with dripping icicles and gumdrop trim. Somehow, Brenna's had a structural  weakness. No matter how we caulked with icing, propped with canned goods and gripped it together, she was short a wall and one side of the roof. How was this possible? It was the same exact kit Emily had used.

Here's the kicker though-- when we placed both houses side by side on the top of the dining room hutch, (a tradition started when I had toddlers who would potentially choke on the ornamental gumdrops if I dared to take a bathroom break) both houses looked fine. It was all in the angle of perspective-- kind of like how I can stand to the side and prop my hand on my hip to attempt to look thinner. Sometimes it works.

A mama recently shared a struggle with receiving Christmas pictures from friends in the mail. Their family is going through a difficult time and it hurts. Looking at pictures of coordinating outfits and smiling children in what appears to be a cohesive family unit is almost more than she can bear. "They can't all have it all together, can they?" I love a good family picture as much as the next person. But no, probably few families truly have it all together. It's just the angle of perspective. For heaven's sake, we have someone else photograph our family simply because one of my kiddos is more likely to behave and less likely to cross his/her eyes if they know we're paying someone to take our picture.

Christmas is tricky. Holidays tend to magnify emotions that we already have, layered with expectations that we carry along with us. My tree is down, but I'm leaving the gingerbread houses up for awhile.

18 Summers

There's been a little saying circulating on social media these days... something along the lines of "You only get 18 summers with your child-- make them count." Oh the pressure. I get heartburn just thinking about it.

My oldest son turns 18 on Monday. He's spent 4 summers with us total. The first summer was absolute magic as we tried to fit in every activity and experience that we could. That summer he was our guest. The next summer we waited, worked and hoped as we held our breath for a referral to travel and bring him home as an official Kaurin. That led to the next summer with a family vacation that allowed him to meet extended family from North Carolina and New York. This brings us to his fourth summer in our home. I'm working the majority of the week, he's balancing summer school and football practice and life is pretty ordinary. But I'm ok with that. This summer he has a list of chores, does laundry on a regular basis and drives me around town. I'm finding that there's beauty in the ordinary and it reaffirms how important each one is in our family.

I look at the pictures of our first summer together and am amazed at how much my children have grown, but I also see an insecurity in me as I tried to make memories. There was a ticking clock as his time with us was short. We really didn't know if we'd get to see him again or not. I remember reaching a point that summer where when asked what he wanted to do, the answer was to fish at a friend's pond or just hang out at home.

Our home was small and simple, but it was good. We penciled in the growth marks for the kids, watched the fireflies from the backyard swing and ate too many popsicles. And when he left us, we all ugly cried. For several days.

The Bible says "Teach us to number our days so that we may gain a heart of wisdom" Proverbs 90:12. I don't want to look at the brief window of childhood or summer with a panic of time passing too quickly. Rather, I'd rather appreciate the day for what it is. The summer spent hosting gave me a new perspective on numbering my days and not wishing any part of it away. Now, I find that I like working part of the day, spending afternoons with my kids and evenings listening to Brenna talk to herself on her swing.

"You only get 18 summers..." I will not be sad for the summers I missed with Max. But I will love each day that he is with us. I won't begrudge Sam his sleepovers but enjoy the moments we have together. My four teens are showing me how beautiful it can be to hold on loosely.