And still counting ... (14,273-14,365)

a day off for Shane
having him in the pool with us
Sharon's compliment on the front garden

sunshine
weeds pulled
dance tutorials
laughter with my kids
Lanie saying good morning in German

a holiday weekend
really good gluten-free hamburger rolls (Trader Joe's win!)
ice cream
chocolate milk
books on hold at the library

contactless pick up
new books to read
a baking steel
hope
66 Books

a charged body battery (in the 90s--firsts since I got it in April)
peace
joy
smiles when Sofia calls
deep gratitude

the spider plant and all the little baby sprouts

expression bubbling full from my heart

crop tops in the mail

the sunniest days

the first mile in new running shoes

our neighbors at the pool

summer afternoon naps

Shane

running shorts in camo

high ponytails

cupcakes in the freezer

shiny skirts

liquid glitter eyeshadow

the portable mini speaker

Wegmans black cherry soda

books in the mail for the school year

texts with friends

recorder duets with my kids

tomatoes, squashes, and herbs growing in the garden

lavender in pots on the patio

margin filled by God

heirloom tomato plants gifted from a neighbor

Mummer dates on the calendar

the smoothness of the patio pavers on my bare feet

a pool in my backyard

Stella coming over to swim and making Lanie swim through hoops

Zinnias from a friend's garden, gifted in a bottle bottom that looked so elegant

gf df pizza for four

lunch in dappled shade by the cherry tree

a friend's sweet prayer

textbooks and literature books in the mail

shelves swapped out for the next school year

an excitement in looking forward

a shiny purple skirt for me, a shiny red skirt for Erin

the wild delight of letting my mind run

music and planks in July

a Revelation study in the mail (ht Jeneane for posting about it)

for tears in worship

for God's rich provision--a full fridge, a wonderland, and more than I could ever ask

Ruth in the pool on a raft

tears in Judges 6, as Gideon runs off to get his offering

value

talks with Shane about friendships and vision

feeling understood

collagen peptides delivered by Christy

Christmas in July

run days

tears in the read aloud (Catching Fire with Erin)

fine point color pens

lesson plans

remembering well, my mother's birthday

Kristine, who gets why my book wouldn't be about happy endings

lots of books on running

new focus

books in the mail from overseas

history books

a piano guild performance

seeing Kyra and Eric

chats with Dr Kreider

her amazing skill

new seasons

the sound of crickets in the early morning

the anticipation of a great pizza

a pizza peel

and pizza steel

desks in the mail

her eagerness to start school NOW

humid runs

uplifting podcasts (Marathon Training Academy "You Can Do Hard Things")

home, sweet home

On est bien, là

“You Americans,” he said, “live in the faire [to do]. The avoir [to have]. In France, we live in the être [to be].”  Why the French Don't Show Excitement, BBC Travel, Emily Monaco.

I looked at my shelf of goal planners, now on my third year. I eyed up my daily planner with its joyful pink blossoms and stately golden corners. Every day I'm making plans. Every month, I'm looking ahead. Every season, month, week, day, hour, I've got a checklist to accomplish. And for days I need wiggle room, I have a lined Post-It Note that I can remove and stick week to week as needed.

Maybe Americans do live in faire and avoir. Exercise. Appointments. Grocery lists. School supplies. Vision boards. Always looking ahead. Always preparing.

In my vision boards, I see it calling. It is on the yoga mat. It is feet propped up. It is gazing out into a distance. It is sitting on a dock. It is hands folded in prayer or raised in worship. The être. 

The American public, he says, has been trained “to have a fake, almost cartoonish view on life, in which superficial excitement and false happiness are the norm.” 

No wonder I feel exhausted. No wonder I feel as though I have never reached the destination. The constant pursuit and performance. The imposed expectation to constantly out-do myself from the day before--push, push, push.

A memory: an invitation to regulars to join us for dinner, just a regular dinner that our family of four would normally have. But when they arrived, they asked for wine and appetizers (which we don't normally do when we are just being us). I fought fatigue, disappointment, even sadness. I just wanted to be, to relax with them. They wanted the do, the have.

Twirl for me, twirl for me, twirl
Twirl for me, twirl for me, twirl
Twirl for me, twirl for me, twirl
Twirl for me, twirl for me, twirl (Nails, Hair, Hips, Heels; Todrick, an addictive anthem in my head)

July, I assess relationships and activities in my life. What do I value? This month, certainly, especially, I have valued peace. When life shifted enough that I could breathe, I could tap into new things through margin, and I could delight in pleasure rather than approval.

Shablam for me, shablam for me, SHABLAM!

(Stop!)

Becoming is messy. Perhaps there is peace in just being.

Day story

July 2020

Outside my window, the hydrangeas are blooming. I don't remember the blooms from last year. I don't remember when I planted the plants. But this year, I waited and watched expectantly, and now the bushes are full of blooms. There are shades of blue and pink and purple. The petals look like beautiful paper with pearl button centers.

Giving thanks for freedom. My spirit has felt so light, my days so rich, my heart so full. I pressed Shane to take couples dancing with me, but he said no. So I pulled up a fun tutorial online and had the best time dancing. Oh, what the instructor says at minute 9:31, and MY HEART BURSTS. There is not. There is not! And this is freedom. And this is success: being who God created me to be with the fullest expression, wholehearted, the fullest expression of joy. (I'm sure this is only a fraction of what David felt dancing.)

In the school room, Erin and I are reading together. Just this morning, I started filling up my carts online with the last things for her school year and her personal school year goals. I sent downloads for Shane to print out for me. I enjoy preparing for a next year so much. It's hard to believe Lanie is a high school senior next year. I look over the curriculum for Erin, the same that I used for Lanie when she was in eighth grade. I was not a big fan of Holes, but we'll give it a go. I'm looking forward to The Giver. I decided to leave out Little Women (forgive me, but I can only stomach that twice in a lifetime. Not a fan.) And this year I added a few new things to the mix for perspective. The first go-round in eighth, Lanie wanted me to back off historical fiction, so I mixed in contemporary young adult pieces. But with Erin, I can incorporate more history in literature because she loves that stuff.

From the kitchen, I made a quick bread batch of cinnamon rolls (yeast free! easy! with a gluten-free option!). And I just received the pizza steel in the mail yesterday. Gluten-free pizza is not the greatest. I've tried making my own crusts. I've tried Against the Grain to the point I haven't purchased it in years because I can't stomach it anymore. I've tried the cardboard experience of Freschetta and others like it. But a checkout from the library solely on gluten-free pizza had me drooling at the varieties. No Gluten, No Problem Pizza by Kelli and Peter Bronski stole my heart at New York-style pizza (oh, the photography!). A key to their magic, the pizza steel. Fifteen pounds of steel to hold the heat like nothing else and cook a crust like no frozen alternative can even dream. I'm making the first pizza next week (I still need to locate San Marzano tomatoes.).

I am ready. It felt as simple as walking through the door and not looking back.

I don't want to forget anything of this summer, or the school year, or the next. I don't want to forget what is so beautiful in life--the laughter, the love, the life. For a first time, the spider plants (good grief, she's gifted me at least 8 before now) that Cindy gave me are thriving, and they're shooting off sprouts of babies, and I am in awe. I didn't kill the plants. And now they're bearing fruit. It is glorious. Oh, the evidence of life all around me. A gift. So grateful to rise up.

I am reading It's All About the Small Things by Melanie Shankle; Let Your Mind Run by Deena Kastor; How to Stay Alive by Bear Grylls; and Breaking Free by Beth Moore. A feast for my mind.

I am hearing worship music, the chimes of the washing machine finishing a load, new ring tones on my phone. I have taken on a new tone so that my stomach doesn't knot when the phone rings. I have designated two other tones to two other callers to discern when they call. This feels so freeing somehow.

A view of my favorite things:

 

 At the table, last night Lanie made hoisin chicken for us. It was delicious. (Good job, Lanie!)