And still counting (11,471-11,505)

It's been a whirlwind of a week, with a hound on the loose and a snafu throwing off a listing date, and trying to squeeze in all the stuff in what was already a full schedule. I felt bursting.

There's a saying that goes something like: you never know what someone is facing, be kind. I called our kennel to let them know that our dog was on the loose. That dear woman took it upon herself to make up flyers and post them in the community; she put the word out on social media and boosted it for a greater audience. When I got our flyers together and started out to deliver them and hang them, I began to cry when I saw she had already posted flyers on poles and sign posts. I called her to thank her. She didn't know what this week held for me, the stress of things, the disappointment of things, the criticism received--how I felt so pummeled and was trying to get it all done.

"I had a feeling you had a lot going on," she said.

Grace.

***

I spent Sunday at my dad's for a final cleaning before the house lists. I thought on many things, especially this day--one year since he died. What that one year held. What I learned. I wrestle with so much. It shapes me.

***

Sunday morning, a read over coffee before heading out to clean at his house. Cultivate by Lara Casey, and these words: "I'm grateful for another day to plant good seeds in the hearts of my children and for the truth that we can't take anything in this life to heaven with us. Not a thing. That encourages me to plant things here on earth that last longer than I will" (page 220).

***

I am thankful for:

uplifting messages to live intentionally
grace in a hard week
Marshall's Mom, who helps me get my thoughts straight
making decisions
dog lovers in the world

a found hound
a huntress checking traps
Holy Spirit urging on her heart
a fire in the wood stove
a knit kit in the mail, in baby soft yellow

another day to plant good seeds in the hearts of my children
a Saturday morning walk with Nora
good neighbors
open doors
answered prayers

takeout after a long day
Trader Joe's Harvest tea with honey
Angela and her workforce
Lynne, the tracker, and her compassion
the sales clerk at Bark! who has a beagle that licks his head while they watch TV

the unrushed way he spoke to us
and the key ring he gave us for added support on a new dog tag
glitter pens
ancient history talks around the table
a lesson planner

the woods in winter
how fog lifts on the mountain like smoke rising
my dad's neighbors
Joseph in Genesis
hugs with Lanie

long walks with Erin to put flyers at the mailboxes (75 homes!)
10K step days
a 6-month focus on cultivating what matters
screen-free results
the song in my heart today to live like he made me to be

And still counting (11,436-11,470)

one percent
a pit
a purpose
eternal things
grace

a massage
twelve hours of sleep
a fridge full of veggies
children's books
read alouds with Erin

an upcoming consultation
snow dustings
happy kids
quiet spaces
cultivating what matters

orchids for friends
gifts for glory
mentoring ministries
a package in the mail in soft yellow
knitting groups at the library

tea with a kindred
Denise for dinner
life at the table
Erin's gift-giving heart
and the cat she whittled as a gift for Frank

hand warmers made by Lanie for me
a walk with Lanie
two days of 10K
a night walk hound hunting with my oldest
one of the very last to-dos before a house lists

catching up with Tracey
a game night at the table
mild nights
a long drive with Lanie
and our talks about fostering friendships

Pits and purpose; grief and growth; to all things new

An Instagram feed of children's books, and one title that piqued my interest (You Belong Here by M. H. Clark, leading me to check it out from the library to read for myself!), led to a recommendation of other books, and somehow, a grief theme. I love children's books. They get to the point most delicately, and powerfully, and simply.

***

After a week of recurring headaches, stress, tears, and stiff neck, I decided to go ahead and schedule a massage. I had it yesterday. I felt guilty for spending money on myself in such an intangible way.

I came home, made dinner, and then slept for twelve hours.

***

My dad was a knitter and crochet-er. He learned to crochet from his mother when he was an adult, after his first heart attack and surgery. Last year, our last time together, he told me about the first blanket he crocheted, and how tight his stitches were. He told me how, when his father died, he buried that blanket with him.

I hadn't known.

***

Looking back on a year of lots of change, and thinking on things I learned.

Legacy is built minute by minute.
Everything left behind tells a story, perhaps even more than words could. 
God is sovereign, mighty, loving, good, trustworthy and near.

***

I learned a lot about my father as I closed up his life. I learned what mattered to him, and what didn't.

***

A recent reading on gifts and shunning, and a podcast on pits and purpose, I sit with heartache and let it shape me into someone new. Someone I wouldn't have been without it. And I find myself grateful.

***

I spoke to him of a golden thread woven through my life, and the birthing and longing of a home mantra in a world where these things aren't guaranteed: welcome, safety, love, inclusion. A lifelong search of inclusion and love, community found, and that the only blood that really counts is the blood of Christ, because blood ties don't guarantee anything. And perhaps, that realization was the deepest cut, the deepest cut. And he understood.

***

I hadn't logged in to Facebook for several days because I craved quiet and simplicity. Facebook sent me several messages to entice me back, of all the things I was missing--the updates, the invitations, the messages, the pokes.

Who pokes anymore? I wondered. And wonder won out. I clicked through to see a three-year-old poke from my dad.

The same day, I received an email from a delightful yarn shop I subscribe to, with free patterns for the Tunisian crochet stitch, the very one my dad and I had been working on when we were last together. And this time it included a pattern for a Tunisian stitch for a hat, and I looked forward to making things for my future grandchildren.

***

About me: I mostly read (useful, uplifting) non-fiction books. Or kids' literature, which can also be useful and uplifting.
 

***

A children's story on death and grief, and I'm thankful for depth in simplicity.

"Cry, Heart, but never break. Let your tears of grief and sadness help begin new life." (Cry, Heart, But Never Break by Glenn Ringtved)

And still counting (11,415-11,435)

Moonlight Sonata on a foggy day
oh, the fog!
super mild temps
powersheets
goals
excitement, again

Chipotle carryout for dinner
a knit date with a friend's mom
her generous help and time with us
daikon radish at Wegmans
read alouds with Erin on the couch

hard candies for Lori
long thoughts on friends and friendships
sherbet orange primrose plants
tending sheets
unexpected snowfall

how bed feels after a hard day
how a pillow feels against my head when I feel done
sleep
pressing on
a fire in the fireplace

Day story

January

Outside my window, a winter sunrise set in queue. It is a new year. It's brown on the ground, bare trees, gray skies and snow and ice patches here and there. Things melt slower in the woods. And nothing melts in below freezing temperatures.

Giving thanks for all things new. Through an Instagram feed, I discovered a book by Lara Casey called Cultivate. It's all about goal setting and life evaluation, which not only fits in perfectly with a new year, but fits in perfectly after this past year. The most eye-opening so far were the top three things I focused on last year: a slew of emotions bent on taking me down; my father's estate and my sister's health; pleasing other people (and not even my people: the chase of maintaining precarious relationships; the holding on to tasks so I wouldn't let other people down, no matter the cost; too many yeses and not enough no's. I started saying no around November. In December, I almost signed myself back up for the pony show, and then had to take back the thought.). I'm so glad for looking long at what the year was, setting a new focus and steps to make new progress. It seems outlandishly selfish to say that this year, I'm putting (myself-health-growth) in the top three. But there. It's said. Outlandish. I'm putting the oxygen mask on my face first this year.

In the school room, we are taking it back. Getting back on track from 2017's roller coaster. Pencils are sharpened. The phone is ignored. The books are open. The fire is warming. I'm looking forward and looking forward to teas and laughter and learning.

From the kitchen, lots of things. I revamped our monthly menu planner to include things from Wellness Mama and Against All Grain and Weelicious--healthier meals, lower sugar with a big focus on nutrition. We've drastically cut back on sugar and treats. I got a bread machine for Christmas (I had one I had to get rid of from the gluten days. I loved my bread machine, so it's nice to have a new one that has a gluten-free setting. Right now, I hear a buttermilk bread spinning away, and I take a sweet delight in knowing my kids are going to wake up to the scent of something yummy. Home, sweet home.).

I am quieting, planning, thinking, tending.

I don't want to forget the things that really matter. There are a lot of things that matter to me, but for now, I'm narrowing my focus to really grow a few areas.

I am reading too many things at once, but I am getting through them. A delightful time with Erin as we read The Green Ember together; lots of cookbooks for new dinners and new breads (hello sweet rice flour and buttermilk powder and new flour blends); books on health and immunity; Cultivate, a timely gift to myself; and all the great school books we have this year. I love homeschooling.

Around the house, just one project. Each month, I list a small to-do at the front of that month's notebook sheet of what I'd like to accomplish. This month, I'd love to finally paint our bedroom and bathroom.

I am hearing the hum of the heater. The crackle of a fire. The spinning of the bread machine. There's no place like home.

A view of my favorite things

the colorful silicone muffin cups

hat by Lanie, scarf by Ann

everything about this

screen-free living

Erin's art

At the table, a slow consideration and refocus. Lanie will be waking soon to join me for coffee and Spanish lessons, and a slice of warm bread. Life giving. It's Tuesday; it's a new year; and I'm taking it all back.

And still counting (11,401-11,414)

a quiet week
a slow start
hot tea
piano music in the rooms
warm fires in the fire places

visits with Lori
and chats too
games with the kids
books in the mail
a full fridge

Lindsay
a Sunday to read on the couch
time to think
rest

And still counting (11,376-11,400)

puzzle pieces scattered across the school room table
games with a twist--teamwork! Imagine! (not an affiliate link)
candlelight at the table
hot meals
leftovers

an eleventh year on 66 Books!
a week's respite
slow time to regroup, catch up on work, relax
new sheets for the bed
a full fridge

fires in the wood stoves
the purge of stuff
read alouds with Erin
time with Lanie
holidays with my man home

dustings of snow
golden light from the east on a new year
a whittling kit for Erin
no sugar added muffins
#powersheets

texts with Diona
a word for the year (seek!)
birds at the feeder
cards in the mail
a new year!