What matters: happiness

“[F]or just one second, look at your life and see how perfect it is. Stop looking for the next secret door that is going to lead you to your real life. Stop waiting. This is it: there’s nothing else. It’s here, and you’d better decide to enjoy it or you’re going to be miserable wherever you go, for the rest of your life, forever.”-Lev Grossman 

I remember the days waiting for happiness. Things would be better ... when we moved ... when the (co-op) school year was over ... when I got a handle on things ... 

Funny in a way. Because things were better when we moved and when we quit co-op. I remember reading a quote somewhere that if you had to move even three inches to be happy, you'd never be happy. Um. Well. Maybe. And then again, maybe NOT. I wrestled with that one, because where we used to live, while lovely, was lonely. Moving into the woods actually brought on lots of healing and growth--and community. While I do completely understand the point of making the best of where you are, wherever that is--I believe God gives us a lot of freedom. Quitting co-op gave us time and space and freedom to just be us. And to boot: my kids are getting along better than they ever have. They are thriving in their education. It worked for us. 

When I was rating different aspects of my life in the Powersheets, recreation came in at a low 2 out of 10, and I was being generous. Who has time to have fun when: there's obligations and appointments and things to open and things to close and things to do, do, do. Last year, I was getting pretty good at checking off to-do items. I sucked at living. 

I lived in crisis. My head was always wrapped around the things I had to do, even if my feet were in the pool (which I can only think of three times they were). I wasn't present in my life. I don't remember getting together with friends much at all. In fact, I do remember saying every week, "This week isn't good. Maybe next week I can make a plan." That hardly ever happened. And if it did, I felt stressed and guilty because of all the other things I had to do.

This year, I made room for living as a goal. Recreation became a quest for happiness--nurturing friendships, serving, learning new things, meeting new people. I did mall walks and track walks, met for lunches with friends, joined hobby groups, made a point of reaching out to others and inviting them into my life. I don't have a lot of wiggle room to do all the things, but at least I'm making time to do some of them. 

We had discussed getting a puppy earlier in the year, but Shane didn't want to get one until my sister's cats were gone (whether they were returned to her, were re-homed, or just lived out their lives here). I didn't want to put my life on hold for a someday "when" anymore. I had already put a lot of other things first for a year. We were just going to have to find a way to make it all work. Enter Ruth. Now we are a two dog, two cat, and two kid family. 

Making room for happiness also meant cutting out things that were negative. I deleted Facebook from my phone and I don't even going by there often anymore. It meant not wasting time in front of a computer and spending more time listening to birds, working in the yard, or even just having a book in my face. It meant learning to limit exposure to toxic people and setting boundaries for relationships. It meant when I started feeling stressed, to take it to God in prayer, ask for prayer, or just plain get my head around something else. I cried enough last year over too many things--most without resolution. 

A lot of choices I make, beyond the non-negotiables, are filtered through Health, Home, Happiness. If I'm pressed for time and a task/opportunity/whatever doesn't filter through filling these goals, I say no.

A wise friend once said in order to take something else on in her life, she'd have to let go of something she's already doing. Last year, I tried to manage all my regular things and add two huge new responsibilities into the mix. Things got done, but it came at a cost--and not just to my health and peace, but it meant I wasn't available or enjoying the people and things that are very dear to me.

So this year, I'm saying yes to happiness. I'm saying yes to friends and new adventures. I'm saying yes to puppy cuddles and games at the table and whatever new experiences are up ahead. I'm also saying no to things too. And the world will keep spinning.

***

A friend came by last Friday to celebrate their last day of school. We picnicked in the field and the kids had so much fun together. We moms had coffee as the afternoon wore on and talked about summer plans and school year musings and all sorts of things.

"How many times did I see you last summer?" I wondered.

She hesitated. "Once," she said, and looking away sheepishly added, "I forced my way over."

I began to remember the swim date we had on the books and another week that seemed impossibly full and I tried to get out from seeing her--but she didn't take the hints and came over anyway. 

"I'm so sorry I was an absent friend," I said.

She smiled, "You're back."

And still counting (11,970-12,000)

searching for Nora the cat and finding Pito and Tito
smiles with a friend at the nursery
tomato plants for the garden
and herbs too
car windows down on a summer-like day
an appointment made

a rental car
insurance that works like it should
coffee al fresco with Becky
good nights of sleep
sweet puppy love

morning birdsong
the views of this wonderland
a fence, reclaimed from the vines
the writers on 66 Books
school books in the mail

good neighbors
cool morning running
a fixable car
throwing a stick for Ruth
coffee with cream and sugar

a picnic in the field with friends
dappled light through walnut trees
cookie bars
their smiles
her comment, "You're back."

God's sovereignty in all things
a library run
Republic on audio while cutting the grass
Friday night red wine with my favorite guy
May dailies

I was pulling weeds less than two feet from that guy

summer vibes

buttercups and a big field

red and yellow

#happy

Smiles

Thinking about an afternoon with Rebecca at the house and iced coffee and sun shining. Loved to hear the sound of her voice and to listen wholeheartedly.

These days of peace.

How he told me my car had a scent of its own, and when he got in the seat, suddenly a flood of memories reminding him of beach trips and amusement parks and all the wonderful trips we took as a family with little ones. The expression on his face. Memories. This very good life. (I remember movies for the long trips, and gorgeous sunset rides home after a full day, and kids crashed out deeply asleep, and sometimes stealing a glance at my man asleep after a full day of sunny fun, and singing along in all the seasons, bike trips and bringing Nella home, school commutes and car seats, and, and, and. Thankful for that old car and all the years it served us well. Lanie was about to start kindergarten when we got it, and I picked it for the third row and carpooling with another family in the old neighborhood.)

Scheduling the water top off for the pool, and the anticipation of friends coming over and I am so excited. Because I fully plan to be present body, heart and soul.

The way Ruth looks at me when I get low to her and thumps her paws toward me. She smells all dog now, but how that soft, warm head feels under my kisses. Pure puppy love.

Dirt under my nails.

Tomato plants and herbs in the garden.

A chat with Christy on the phone.

Miss Pat at Wegmans.

Frozen fruit for holiday blender drinks.

Three days with my favorite guy.

And still counting (11,921-11,969)

a rainy week
schooling with blankets
running days
and new workouts
66 Books

a multi-state summer reading group
Anita at the table
and another good friend too
coffee and tea for a next week
color markers in the mail

Orange ginger mint tea with honey
days of respite
good words in my ears
biology and geometry
a furry pup

her happy waggles to see me
and how my heart swells to see her too
red wine
driving mercies

a great help with insurance
and his shared birthday, and a twin at that
fog at home
dailies goals being met
podcasts during the wait

a painted bedroom
books in the mail
the freedom to homeschool
my kids' creativity
the permission and safety to be themselves

buttercups in the field
a chat with Helen when I passed by her house
this wonderland
dirt under my nails
rhododendrons in bloom

a clean crate and puppy
summer dreams
Quo Vadis that made her cry

Miss Pat at Wegmans
a full fridge

Sunday meatballs on a Thursday
the soreness of muscles
their talks at the table (Erin, "I think eleven is the best age. You're not a baby and you're not a grown up.")
summer fruits: strawberries and blues
how she runs barefoot in the yard, in the rain

clean laundry
books on shelves: medieval

a big tumbler of ice water
Brit lit in queue for a sophomore year

What matters--health

Without a doubt, when I started considering goals, health was at the top of the list. It was the thing I could largely measure by lab numbers, physical symptoms, appearance. Health was my main focus going into the new year because success in other areas of my life depended on it.

I broke it into three categories: physical, spiritual and emotional health.

Physically, I made a point to value nutrition. I need to treat my body well, giving it what it needs to be its best. Making nutritious choices had to be the most important point when it came to food. I needed to make sure I was getting good sleep and getting exercise. I made a plan for these things. My hope is that their work together would make a healthier me.

Spiritually, I'm still gratefully pursuing Christ in my life. Between podcasts, devotionals or my own journaling in 66 Books, I listen to worship music daily and I value my prayer life. I'm learning to rely on God and seek him in new ways this year. Also, I try to spend more time away from the computer and invest it in life-giving places like time with friends and family, as well as time in the yard. This is good for my spirit.

Emotionally, I've cut back on Facebook time because I truly don't need to know what other people are thinking. Sometimes that place felt like stepping into a war zone of hatred. I'm hanging out over at Instagram more and enjoying the different vibe. I'm reevaluating a lot of relationships in my life and trying to figure out new boundaries. I'm making more time available to invest in health and relationships. I like having margin. Last year, I was great at getting through a to-do list, but I wasn't really living and I certainly wasn't thriving. Many relationships were neglected because I just didn't have the capacity to nurture them. It's nice to say yes to a friend for a visit.

This month, I've been disciplining myself to focus on the dailies (each month's goals are daily, weekly and monthly)--to strengthen this category, my dailies are heavily health focused: drink eight glasses of water, run the driveway, get 10K steps. May has been a great month for me. By achieving (or nearly achieving) the dailies, not only do I see the progress in checked boxes, I feel it in ability (or aches!).

Good sleep, good food, good thoughts, good friends, good actions--it's cultivating a rich soil for health. And a healthier me is able to pour into the lives of others in love, and not in stress and exhaustion.

²⁴ Don’t you realize that in a race everyone runs, but only one person gets the prize? So run to win! ²⁵ All athletes are disciplined in their training. They do it to win a prize that will fade away, but we do it for an eternal prize. ²⁶ So I run with purpose in every step. I am not just shadowboxing. (1 Corinthians 9:24-26, NLT)

For years, I wrestled with this scripture:

 ⁸ Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. (Philippians 4:8, NIV)

Because sometimes the things that were true weren't lovely, pure, admirable, excellent or praiseworthy. Sometimes things that were true were hateful, mean, unloving--and if I focused on the lovely things, wasn't I just deceiving myself about what was really going on? But recently, in a year that brought a lot of ugliness to light, focusing on the truth of others' unloving actions was death to me. Carrying hurt and anger, and struggling with forgiveness and bitterness--or just old memories--was crippling me from being free. 

So I'm letting it go.  

The new BCC

Playdates in former years were always accompanied by drinks and fat slices of banana chocolate chip bread. While I love to put out an offering of something warm from the oven, I don't always have time for it. But today, when a good friend came by for tea this morning, I decided this rainy day called for something homemade.

I don't make banana chocolate chip bread often anymore (not sure why, but I do love having surplus bananas in the freezer for smoothies!). A new found favorite is this:

Coconut chocolate bread 

(inspired by King Arthur Flour's Coconut Flour recipe)

1/2 cup coconut flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
6 tablespoons butter, melted and slightly cooled
1/2 cocoa powder
1/2 cup sugar (reduced from 3/4--I forgot to reduce today, and it was REALLY sweet)
1/2 teaspoon salt
a happy splash of vanilla
6 large eggs
a sprinkling of mini chocolate chips.

Preheat oven to 350. Mix flour, baking powder, sugar and salt with a whisk.

Stir cocoa powder into melted and slightly cooled butter.

Add eggs and vanilla to flour. Mix well. Pour buttery cocoa mixture into the batter and mix well. Line a bread pan with parchment paper. Pour batter into prepared pan and let rest ten minutes.

Top with  mini chips to your heart's desire.

Bake 35-45 minutes (40 is our winning time). Let cool 30 minutes, or if you have better self-restraint, enjoy completely cooled at the end of the day. It slices like a dream. The chocolate flavor is wonderful and the loaf is moist. It almost seems too good to be good for you, which I am telling myself it is good for me.

As with most sweet things from the oven, it goes best served with a good friend at the table and a hot mugga something in the hand. (Today, I enjoyed a double mug of Republic of Tea's orange ginger mint herbal tea with a fat blob of Trader Joe's raw honey. I may have wondered if I was dreaming, because this stuff takes my heart to lovely places!)

***

Today we're celebrating Shane with Half-Baked Harvest's Sunday Meatballs. Oh. My. Goodness. My kitchen smells amazing. Did I mention that's my new favorite cookbook?

It. Is.

(Hey, you know what's cool? I enjoy mentioning products I love without affiliate links or any kind of compensation.)

Day story

May

Outside my window, it is green and gray and wet. A week's glance of daily thunderstorms. Humidity and heaviness. My coral running shoes glow in the gray. I cut the grass yesterday before the thunderstorms came. Hello, green season. All the vines growing, and as I ran back down the driveway, I smiled to enter the hidden hollow of home. Thankful for this wonderland.

Giving thanks! This past weekend the girls performed in their piano recital. Lanie got three awards--including a merit scholarship for next year. An entire year's lessons paid. This was a great reward for her. She practices diligently and I am so delighted for her. She worked so hard. (But there's something else, and it's God's provision--and I am moved to the core. Thank you, God.)

In the school room we're in the mix of ending and beginning. Heading toward the finish of one school year, and jumping earnestly into the next with biology and geometry for Lanie. A home focus feels good.

From the kitchen, a green smoothie. We have these a few times a week: spinach, coconut milk, flax seed, collagen, bananas and mango (or other frozen fruit). So good. Also cooking up recipes from a new favorite cookbook: Half-Baked Harvest Cookbook by Tieghan Gerard (not compensated to mention). I have made recipes from her blog before. Visually stunning and delightfully flavorful.

I am working hard on the dailies--the May daily goals for health and home. 

I don't want to forget to be here. I love homeschooling my kids. I love cutting the grass. I love having friends over. I love pulling the weeds. I love doing laundry. I love planning the meals and making the meals and getting ready for summer. I love it all. I don't want to live distracted by (the) attempt to pull me in the muck of stress and (her) hatred. I don't want to lose another moment here. I already lost more than a year.

Around the house, after reading a book by Emily Ley, I took on steps to simplify my life. Shane said to me yesterday, "I don't want to alarm you, but I think somebody broke into the house and stole that stuff you had in the middle of the sitting room." I laughed. Purging, consolidating, tidying. The school room shelves purged of books we've outgrown or finished using for the year, and shelves of Middle Ages eagerly waiting on the mark. I love the cleared look of the school table. I love the tidiness of shelves, once spilling over, now orderly. Clean and order are so inviting. How nice to relax.

I am hearing quiet in the pause of the morning. Learning how to quiet my thoughts--taking longer breaks from other social media outlets to be present and less distracted here. And it is good.

A view of my favorite things:

this was earlier in the month--it's all filled in now

carpet of purple down the field

I snagged a photo of these lovelies before I cut the grass

My lock-screen image. Where did my puppy go?

This was a lunch last week. Focus on health and nutrition.

Recital day!

At the table, Anita is stopping by today for a visit and I'm so glad to have her here. She's in the area and wants to stop by and I am thankful she does. Treasuring this truly in my heart.

And still counting (11,893-11,920)

a Friday field cut
blue skies
good podcasts

a good report
the pink flowers of the last dogwood
Ruth
and how she makes us laugh
her sweet devotion

school days with Lanie and Erin
pretty spring dresses
music in the house
morning smoothie breaks
coral running shoes

and daily runs
Ruth and her indecision between a stick and the orange squeaky ball (she took both!)
the piano recital
a long talk with Tracey
azaleas in bloom

the decluttering of home and mind
a sunny piano recital
Lanie's scholarship
celebratory popsicles
a weekend with my family

games around the table
laughter
the warmth of blankets
chamomile tea
a visit with Lori

What matters: home

Last year, a lot of things that deeply matter to me got bumped and jostled while I handled my dad's estate and walked alongside my sister in her health crisis. I managed two households, an estate, healthcare, and somehow schooled my children, served at church, cooked some meals, cut the grass. I barely remember any of it. By year's end, I was burned out and stressed, vowing something had to change. But despite my vow to put things back in order in my life, I still had a house to pack up, prepare for sale, and sell.

That is a brief and no-nonsense view of a year. (Those who know me better know of the details and tears of heartache and hard choices.) In October, a routine eye exam led to a surprising cataracts diagnosis, led to a physical, led to a lab panel, led to a wake-up call. I was starting down a bad path--ironically not even related to the cataracts, which was a hereditary condition. Vow turned to plan after reading Cultivate by Lara Casey and jotting down my own goals (fears, hopes, struggles). It was good to move from a daily check-point list of to-do, to a plan for progress.

Disclaimer: my goals are just that--mine. They may not be noble. They may not be impressive at all. Some may seem so basic and natural to you, and if so, I'm glad. This is just a glimpse of my journey in 2018 to try to restore simple balance into my life, to take an overwhelming canvas of possibility and narrow it down to a few things that I can improve; because if last year taught me anything, it's that I can't do it all and do it all well.

As I considered things that fought for first last year, I found they fell into three simple categories: health (spiritual, physical and emotional), home (school, household, family) and happiness (pursuit and enjoyment of). (If your focus is more practical, prosperous, glamorous, global, eternal, whatever, Go You. Sincerely. This is not a comparison of who has better pursuits. I think at heart we all want to live our best life, however that looks.)

Starting in January, I thought long on these categories and mapped out a plan. Some things never got accomplished. And maybe, in the end, they weren't that important if I wasn't doing them, or they were too big a bite at the time (remember, I still had a house to sell, finances to manage, and a sister to care for on top of my regular duties as a wife, mom, home educator, etc. And somewhere, self was there too.).

Today, a peek of a home focus.
I got up, made my man's lunch, and sent him off with love and a hug (building into my marriage). I wrote on 66 Books (building into my spiritual growth). I played with Ruth (building into my happiness). I enjoyed coffee and dawn's birdsong (enjoying happiness). Lanie came downstairs and unloaded the dishwasher. I decided to make pancakes (focus on home/my kids). On a Monday. On a school day.

I turned on the radio, mixed up the batter, poured cups of juice, plated pancakes, called to Erin (because, while Lanie was happy for pancakes, Erin would be over the moon because she's been asking for them for a while).

We ate breakfast together, Ruth at our feet, sunlight streaming through the woods, song filling the rooms. That in itself was lovely, all. But then I mused aloud, "Maybe one day I'll make some pancakes for your kids."

And suddenly my girls are planning group breakfasts at my house, "Because it's bigger," Lanie decided already, and it's turning into a delightful potluck of who is bringing drinks and breakfast bakes. "And we'll do it on a weekend so Dad can be part of it!" she decreed. And all were in favor.

Thankful for this day, that I made a pancake breakfast that sparked heart dreams and filled my own. This kind of thing may seem small (and maybe you don't like to make pancakes or don't have time or don't even care about pancakes because there are bigger battles and better plans). That's really not my point. My point is that little things can spark a big thing. Because time together at the table has the power to speak into generations (of welcome, safety, love and inclusion ... or not). And that is a big deal.

*Not compensated to mention Lara Casey's book. You can find our favorite fluffy pancake recipe, which was easily converted to gluten-free by substituting flour for a gluten-free blend, here at: http://thepioneerwoman.com/cooking/edna-maes-sour-cream-pancakes/

And because I love Danny Gokey's songs, enjoy Comeback.

And still counting (11,856-11,892)

a chance to talk to Sherry
a sunny morning out early
new starts: geometry and biology
smoothies with Lanie
dress shopping for the recital

and that we got matching dresses and she's excited about that
she calls me a best friend
a squeaky orange ball
a walk in the park with my pup
push mowing the grass

step, school, water and running goals met!
a Good Guy
his patience in my worry
Trader Joe's chamomile tea
the delightful floral fragrance of spring on an evening walk

texts with friends
sending love and encouragement to drown out the taunts of stress
my dad's last bill--paid!
puppy love
dirt under my nails

a puppy who returns to sleep in wee morning hours
birdsong in the early morning--right as the sun rises
a lightweight jacket
sun on my skin
the sweet song of baby birds in the cedar tree

the morning egg and cheese sandwich
her happy text of happy overwhelm
podcasts on the field cut
a quarter mile
cookbook love (Half-Baked Harvest--swoon!)

hard talks
prayers of friends
the return of Aldi's gluten-free General Tso's chicken
and all their other yummy gf freezer foods!
family games around the table

this day
this life