A cup of kindness yet

It's been a toggle between getting ready for a next year (over at 66 Books!) and settling in for coziness with Christmas lights still glowing. I've picked up my knitting and worked away at the scarf I'm making for Anita. Shane commented that he liked the color (it's better than I envisioned, a steely green verses army green, and now I kinda want to get more of it for something else), and I loved him so much for trying to care about something he has no care for. He's a champ for that. 

Exercise has been half-hearted, but today I got out for a long walk and then a super short run. I wanted to get some things done before Shane gets home from work. 

I prepared a bucket of hot water and Pine Sol and set to scrubbing cabinets, doorways and windows, wiping away all remnants of 2024. Then I worked on the baseboards. I remembered when the girls were little, I could hand them a spray bottle of vinegar and water, along with a cleaning cloth, and they'd happily set out to help me by wiping the baseboards for me. One kid would help upstairs, the other did the main level. It was done cheerfully and quickly, because many hands make light work. I smiled today as I thought of that, the happiness and chatty little girls. 

I sprayed a new pink spray all over my shower and took to the task with a new wand to try and power away the water residue. I quick-washed a new set of sheets (technically an anniversary gift, but I got them this week because they were 30% off), then made the bed and changed out the bath towels. Laundry running all morning. I dusted. And I opened a package from Temu that had some goodies, including faux fur pom poms for some hats I recently knitted. I'm on the search for the perfect knitting carry-all, and I found it, but it's out of my price range, so I'm looking for the next best.

I fixed myself an espresso, also known as a Paris Moment. My goal planner is prepped and ready for tomorrow, and I hope to get up to catch the year's first sunrise, the first post on 66 Books, and run the first miles of what I hope is a better year all around.

This coming year holds as many ends as it does beginnings. And this so very special place and part of my life, this precious documentation of busy hands and full heart, is winding down as my nest empties. But I will always look back fondly here. I'll still be posting from time to time at least until Erin graduates, but then motherhood as I knew it will be over. I'm focusing my efforts on new things more and more. And it feels fresh and full of possibility. I spent a good part of 2024 grieving many things. I'm ready to get up.

A message in my inbox spoke to an audience I'm now part of, and the writer listed lyrics from Auld Lang Syne. It's a sad (maybe it's a 4 thing) and sweet tune, playing in my head and heart today. Of things held near:

First verse:
Should auld acquaintances be forgot,
and never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintances be forgot,
and auld lang syne?

Chorus:
For auld lang syne, my Jo,
for auld lang syne,
we’ll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

 Lifting up my cup of kindness yet. Certainly there were good things in 2024, to be sure--because PARIS. 

On, on. 

The 2024 list

It's no surprise to me that Paris checked off a lot of "best" and "favorite" categories for me this year. It was a super special trip to celebrate 25 years married, to experience everyday life in a beautiful city, to run through its streets and eat bread again (their bread is a lower gluten variety than the stuff produced here--and did not give me pain), and to see sights and experience it all with Shane and Erin--such a wonderful gift. Paris won for favorite memory, beautiful sight, memorable adventure, best meal, and best finish line. 

We celebrated our anniversary, thirteen years here, and Erin's eighteenth birthday this year. We attended Erin's favorite concerts ... and it was a blessing that she wanted to spend time with us. It was a year of big highs and big lows, and the lows, wow. Never saw them coming--estrangement, secrecy, betrayals, a variety of deaths, and many griefs.With challenges and fractures and heavy burdens, I am grateful for all the years I've been in God's word and the growth and strengthening from abiding in Christ, because I couldn't imagine any one of these difficulties without him. 2024 did not play; it was serious.

I was super happy for personal achievements in getting my swim endurance down, competing in two triathlons, and taking to knitting after many attempts over many years. I made two very wear-worthy scarves (one kept and one gifted) since late November, and completed two good-enough hats (working on a third). I have two other variety scarf kits, a bag kit, and two sweater kits in queue. It's so funny that now I don't even consider buying already made scarfs, sweaters or hats. I actually look at things and think to myself: I could make that. And, truly, I would much rather make it! I also have been acquiring knitting books (of course!) with patterns I hope to knit. And perhaps one day, even Ruth will wear a sweater I made.

This year was certainly full and defining. From the very good things, I look back fondly, and from the very challenging things, I consider and contemplate and grow. 

In my yearly reflection questions, it was hard to single out a very best thing, because there were two that carried huge importance to me, but if you guessed France being one of them, yes-yes-yes!

"Don't let the shame of what other people think run your life." The Morning Show, Season 2, ep 10, Fever

and 

"People judging you is a bitch, but it doesn't kill you." The Morning Show, Season 2, episode 8, Confirmations

From the reflections questionnaire, a lot of the answers are more personal than ever, but this one makes the cut. The catch phrase or statement that best described 2024 to me: "This isn't real," a quote borrowed from Tris in the movie Divergent. I've said it this year to get myself through the test, much like Tris had to pass the mental toughness tests she underwent--and it signified that the threats she saw couldn't really touch her or harm her.  

I'm enjoying a slower week, off from school, with reading, knitting, and envisioning. Recently, I've spent good chunks of time laying the groundwork for plans for 2025, focusing on the areas I want to fortify, and brainstorming, creating systems, and marking dates for meet ups. 

Earlier this year, I ordered a mug with the wording "he got up" on it after a reading about David, who got up after grieving the loss of his son. He got up because there was nothing else he could do (about his son) and he still had work to do. It was a reminder to me to get back up and not stay stuck (hoping a thing would change that wouldn't change by my strength) in a place, being inactive, unproductive, or ineffective. 

Besides, one needs to get back up in order to stand.

And still counting ... (20,016-20,100)

 a cozy rainy day, fires in the woodstoves, Heather who texts me powerful prayers, and prays with me and for me, boxes mailed off for Christmas

two scarves knitted, a knitted hat in "cinnamon" for Erin, all the books, all the studies, my students

gifts from students, a beautiful snowfall, three of us at A Christmas Carol, coffee with Amy, the assistant who stood with me and told me things that made her cry

William and the story behind a paid time off, for the situations and tasks prepared for me to walk into, good sleep, eggnog in my coffee, lessons learned on trust

chatting Christy by phone in the mall parking lot, miniature kits Erin still enjoys building, surviving 18 and her admissions, a great study on spiritual warfare, winter sunrises

another year for 66 Books, all the years, all the contributors, all the scripture tucked in my heart, growing in Christ

a knit group, an opportunity to hand out a card, a break from co-op, knit kits on sale, a knit space online

talks with Anita, meeting a local legend unaware, feeling an instant belonging in a new group, plans with my man, a 2025 focus

fires in the wood stove, twinkle lights, the sketch prints ordered, his agreement on wall hangings, a refreshing of spaces

the presents under the tree, cinnamon rolls baked on Christmas morning, a cozy home day together, loving anyway, hope

a finished year on 66 Books, Layla's immediate yes, a warm house, comfy covers on the bed, sleep

Christmas cards in the mail, Heather's prayers and devotionals, Amy T, Michi, a walk by phone with Nora

books in the mail, a January mood, schedules and rhythms, for her 22 years with me, the ache in my heart because she matters

mood

an oath not taken, milestones this year, Sarah P, Tilin, camp

clarity, strength, perseverance, endurance, prayer

Paris, the half marathon, 25 years married, being a mom, a next chapter

knitting bags, the good yarn, needle point stoppers, magnesium cream, training plans

Countdown

It's the eve of Christmas Eve. These past years, Lanie has always worked on Christmas Eve at church, so we bumped our Christmas Eve nachos back a day to the eve-eve to keep the tradition alive. Tonight, I made the nachos. She took her plate up to her room. Shane and I talked at the table about Christmas Eve plans, as it will be just the two of us going to church. 

Last year was a hard Christmas, followed by a really hard year. We talked about this Christmas, and we lit it with hope and peace and love. I will bake off cinnamon rolls and scramble eggs. I will brew a pot of coffee. I will have the Christmas tree lights on, and a fire in the wood stove. I will run the miles likely before Erin thinks of coming downstairs. Lanie is staying out Christmas Eve to work and sleep elsewhere, and she is working Christmas morning. Afterwards, she has other plans and said if she comes home at all, it will be to get something to eat. 

I told Erin she gets to be the only "kid" coming down for Christmas this year, and she mused over thoughts of finally being an only child. 

I heard Lanie practicing piano for work. She has mentioned before that she doesn't like Christmas music, and here she is, working two places over several services on Christmas. I enjoyed the music from downstairs, acutely aware that this is the closest she'll allow me to come to it, and probably the last I'll hear her play Christmas music. I tuck the sweet sounds away in my heart. 

"I saw an ad for a cruise in Europe that visits lots of towns at Christmas time," I mentioned to Shane. 

"That sounds like fun," he said. We had wondered what Christmas would be like in Paris--and Lanie spoke years ago of a former teacher's telling of Christmas markets in Germany. 

"Maybe one year we'll do that," I suggested.  

On the way up to bed, I could hear her in the basement watching a Christmas show. And this will be a last too.

I haven't even wrapped gifts yet. And I can't sleep. I pulled out a knitting project and a Bible study, but I really just want to sit here and remember.

Day story

December 2024

Outside my window, sunny skies and mild temperatures. I noticed so many birds about on my run today. And just a few days ago it was snowing! We had gone to a local theater to catch a performance of my very favorite: A Christmas Carol. When we were leaving through the lobby, so many of us gasped in delight. Framed by all the rich, red and green holiday decorations in the lobby, the biggest windows showcased an unexpected and delightful snowfall. It was perfection. At least to some of us. Shane is not a fan of snow because it means plowing and early mornings on slippery roads and delayed work. But he has said recently that he hopes now that he can learn to appreciate snowfall from the comfort of his office at home. I hope that for him too. Winter is my favorite.

And I quote, 

"Darkness is cheap." 

A line from the performance, A Christmas Carol. I thought long on the comment that stood out to me, in this year of battling darkness. How it lures so many because it's accessible, and seems free and easy. But darkness is never cheap. In fact, darkness can cost you everything.

In the school room, we are on Christmas break at home and from co-op. Hallelujah! We are all about later starts (waking for Erin, running for me), cozy fires, quiet evenings together, knitting!, and this week baking cookies. I love the peanut butter blossoms. Erin is making chocolate chip cookies with M&Ms. And next week I'll bake off homemade cinnamon rolls. I'm looking forward to it more than ever. The ultimate comfort food.

From the kitchen, well, I guess I just said it.

I am knitting. I challenged my students to knit a scarf (hat or blanket) as a goal project. Projects were due, regardless of completion, last week and a paper reflecting on questions is due in January. I was so very impressed by them. They all had the same goal, but no project resembled another. Different patterns, colors, lengths ... and one student knitted an adult sized blanket! Two students are gifting theirs to a sibling (one for chiding him, another as a gift). Several students had siblings who looked on and took up knitting too because of their example. One student had to learn knitting as a left-hander (which he said was a real challenge), and his scarf was exquisite! Even two scarves completed now, I don't think I'd be ready to tackle his pattern. Some had to start over repeatedly. Some created new designs as they worked around their mistakes. And by and large, most everyone rose to the challenge. I am so proud of them, especially as I knew several students were not thrilled (putting it lightly) about the goal being chosen for them. And because I challenged them, I decided to pull out a kit I purchased years ago, the one with the "good" yarn, and knit a scarf too. I attended a local knit group one evening and a woman refreshed my muscle memory and got me started. I made a scarf for me, and one for The One Who Loves Me, which she received this week and texted me immediately that it was beautiful (I put so much heart into making hers. She's had an incredibly tough year, and I wish I could have hugged her!). Then I knitted a hat. And then I ordered a kit to make a sweater. And it's kind of a thing now. I have scoped out all kinds of local gatherings to learn from the area's enthusiasts. Shane commented, "I'm glad you found an outlet that you enjoy that's not expensive." He has no idea. A knitting friend remarked while I was showing her the second scarf and telling her about new favorite knitting books I got, "Wow, when you take on something, you go all in. From a scarf to a sweater! From running a 10k to a marathon!" 

I don't want to forget these last days. Lanie is moving out. This was our last Thanksgiving with her under our roof (and how my heart was full for a pleasant day and her two helpings of dinner!). I'm not clear on if she will wake up here Christmas morning or not. She hasn't specified a date. They were mine for a time, and never mine to keep. I'm glad she helped us decorate the Christmas tree this year. I will be thankful against the tide of things. 

I am reading several books on knitting as well as Eat That Frog by Brian Tracy, Reaching Your Prodigal by Phil Waldrep, Spiritual Warfare Self-Study by Mary Baxter (and now two other friends have ordered their own copy because it's so good!). There are several books in queue for triathlon, marathon, and strength training, as well as books on relationship and identity. If you think I'm in binge mode, you're right. But really, can you ever have enough books (or yarn?)?

Around the house, it is calm. And I am thankful. We're inching closer to a new year that's bringing lots of big, bold changes. I've already picked my word for 2025: stand. 

I value authenticity. I have always valued people being real. So I super value time at the table with women who have been real with me, that I can let my guard down a bit too. And that feels like real Christian community. Erin is now sporting her newest piercings, and I have been hesitant to share any pictures. It's not what I would have chosen for her, but I don't get to live her life. And she said she's wanted these piercings for two years. One friend commented to me that she had been against her child's septum piercing (that she got anyway as soon as she could) and that she wishes now she had picked her battles. Also, I accept people are going to judge you no matter what you do--whether you tidy up before your husband comes home or your kid gets a piercing. So now I'm learning to mind my own business, and when I don't carry the weight of other people's judgment, I enjoy my life (and my family) a lot more.

On the letter board: merry and bright

A view of my favorite things

 

Celebrating her big day--she said it was the nicest hotel she's ever stayed in!

a weekend hike with friends from school

this time we are three

The snowfall! Her smile! The scarf I made!

no roots!

Ornament shopping, three of us, but Lanie was in our hearts

At the table, this year I'll make the Brazilian rolls that the kids like. I don't know if we'll be a table of three or four, but I do know life goes on.

That's a wrap: 18 years

Erin turns eighteen today. She came downstairs to care for the cats and tend to the chickens, but first popped into the living room where I was reading, to announce with a smile, "I'm eighteen today."

I was happy for the smile and the sounding of joy in her voice. And just like that, she's an adult. She'd asked me recently what might change when she's eighteen, and I lightheartedly commented, "Well, I'm not legally required to have to feed you anymore." 

So that's been a refrain as she considers her new freedom to make choices and do things without parental approval or consult. (Of course, I will feed her. If my primary love language is time together, a close companion is food/feeding people.) 

She also told me she gave herself a tattoo, and that it turned out pretty good. 

"What did you choose? Where did you put it?" I asked. I was already prepared for this. She's been talking about it for a while.

"Not telling. It's on my leg," she said.

Christmas tree lights aglow with a drizzly backdrop outside. A cozy light in the living room and a blanket, coffee, and stacks of books (and knitting projects) surrounding me. I got up and hugged her and took note of the levity in her heart. 

She will always be my daughter. I will always be her mother. And even though one day transitioned into another seamlessly, there is a perceptible shift this new dawn. She is free. While she is in my arms, she is no longer in my hands. She is free to go and do and be the things she wants to go and do and be. I sit at the side of the parental pool, a touch point for rest, as she will push off deeper, needing me less and less. 

We are celebrating her simply tonight with tortellini, garlic bread, and her request of homemade ice cream sandwiches. I made them last night, sprinkling colorful sprinkles along the sides, because it is a celebration, after all. We celebrated her the other weekend with a quick trip to Brooklyn to see the last performance of the year of her favorite band (which was the first concert she ever attended a year ago, so it seemed like a fitting closure).

I was up early this morning doing a Bible study and writing out big prayers for my children. While I may not have much or any say in how they live their lives, I will be their biggest prayer warrior, petitioning and pleading on their behalf. (Needing to fill a gap on the Bible blog, I pulled this post from the archives, and read it, now six years later, and it still is relevant and speaks deeply to me in a different way than before.)

I'm taking Erin out to lunch today, her request, and I hope it is the first of a new tradition to celebrate her, and hopefully one day Lanie too, with time together, at the table, with food and company and love. 

It is a new day. God bless you, Erin. May the Lord bless you and protect you; may the Lord smile on you and be gracious to you; may the Lord show you his favor and give you his peace. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your path straight.

And still counting ... (19,908-20,015)

the really vibrant sunset the night before Halloween, fast days, a next year on the team(s)

a calendar marked with 2025 race dates, lots of cycling events, and new triathlons, a definite shift in training focus, cold coffee

Frisbee with Ruth running through fallen leaves, all the book stacks, writing on 66 Books, a moody morning mist, her safety in car troubles

warm drinks, running shoes the remind me of Circus Peanut candy, the vivid dreams about the thieves and the snakes, running music playlists, feeling strong in the strength training

good words in the inbox, a kingdom focus, Amy T, Paris moments, a weighted vest for walking

Scriptures, devotionals mailed from Kellie, a book with affirmations, 6intow, hamburgers on the grill

a hot shower, clean hair, a sleeping dog at my feet, tears at the table, contemplating a next year

a year that ended far different than I imagined, action, chlorinated streets, buttermilk pancakes for breakfast, a happy Monday at co-op

This was in the years at the other house.

 

memories that show up on social media, the truth of years, popcorn with that delish Trader Joe's sriracha powder, a race weekend, warm temps for outdoor activities during the week

early bedtimes, warm blankets, coffee with cinnamon, Dave B,  Furnace Hills

a knit group, the good wool, a scarf finished, tickets purchased, the winding down of a semester

Thanksgiving break, packet pick up, the complaining runner who gave me a lot to think about to level up, Bipin at the finish line, the four of us at home

Thanksgiving dinner, Lanie's second helping, curtains at the windows, how pleasant the day was, peace

a Christmas tree up, decorating it together (the four of us, a wonderful last memory), a trip to the ornament store--this time only three, a quick trip to Brooklyn

safe travels there and home on the busiest travel weekend, the views from the balcony, a super comfy bed, the most amazing hot shower, food from a food truck

LoveJoy concert (a year later almost to the day), a great spot close to the stage, that she got to meet her friend to exchange bracelets, Dunkin on the ride home

home sweet home, Ruth from the kennel and her spinning joy, how she would look at me in the next days and cry and come to be petted, all the dog toys out of the basket, all the knitting stuff in the mail

the little red cap kit from Denmark, books from the library, five-mile runs, a pool swim with a lane to myself, ornaments in the kitchen windows

texts with Amy T, phone calls with The One Who Loves Me, a second scarf completed and ready to send, Nora's grace at my huge mistake on dates, Sarah P and her big bold voice

time gathering thoughts on a next year's goals, the amazing study on spiritual warfare, returning writers on 66 Books, the very long red scarf in real wool and how fabulous I felt wearing it for a first time on a cold day, that I made it for myself

espresso, for her twenty-two years with us, the harpsichord video of her performance that she shared with me, her bedroom--unchanged from the day we moved in, hope in Him

the unmistakable awareness of ends, trusting God in all of it, his sovereignty, his goodness, his faithfulness

Leaf on the driveway

 I walked up the driveway to get the mail, and I noticed a beautiful, yellow leaf on the ground. Instantly, I remembered a time collecting fall leaves with the kids and dipping them in melted wax to preserve as decorations for a time. I remembered little hands, smiles, and holiday preparations. 

Today is Thanksgiving, and I'm working on a post for 66 Books for tomorrow. I'm drinking coffee and getting ready to head out to volunteer at packet pick-up, and then run a morning 5k. It's pouring rain, and the race director said it's on rain or shine. So, rain it is! 

Erin and I painted trim in the living room yesterday--the last of the work after I freshened the walls. I want to put my curtains back up because we are putting up our Christmas tree tomorrow, after our yearly trek to the ornament store. Erin is going to look for a black cat ornament, in memory of sweet Tilin. I'm happy with the phantom ornament I got at the Paris opera house. (I dreamed about Paris last night. I think of it often.)

I'm not sure if Lanie will go with us or if she'll even be part of decorating the tree. 

This year, I'm enjoying lasts with Erin. She turns eighteen in a couple of weeks. She counts down the days. She said she doesn't think all that much would change, except that she won't have to ask permission if she wants to color her hair, get a tattoo, or a piercing. 

Shane and I imagined what future holidays might look like, especially as none of life as it currently is is anything how I ever imagined. Maybe we'll go skiing (my idea, not his. He doesn't like snow or cold.). Maybe we'll spend time someplace warm (which would feel so odd this time of year). We'd like to visit other cities and see how they celebrate holidays. 

Fun ideas, all. But nothing tops enjoying time with people you love, with warmth, food, and good conversation. Time together is still my love language.

Today, I'm thankful for all the memories our little family of four has made. I'm thankful for this space where I documented so many occasions that I'd have otherwise forgotten. 

"Stand against the tide of memories, threats, loss, and sadness, and answer back. With gratitude." The Quiet Place by Nancy Leigh DeMoss, January 18 entry. 

 After completing a knitted scarf in the softest wool, I told Shane I might try to make something else. I mentioned the sweater a woman handled as she considered the stitching, and it was something she had made--it looked flawless. Shane said there was a time he wouldn't have appreciated a handmade gift, but that now he thinks about the time and effort that goes into making something by hand, and that it's very valuable.

It had me think long on value. The thing is the thing (whether it's an assignment or a gift), but it's how we feel about it that gives it meaning. I purchased new, soft wool to begin a scarf for someone I love who has had a really rough year. I started to make it last night, felt the softness of the wool, and poured love into every stitch. It will take me several hours to make this. I will mail it to her like a hug in a box. However she receives it only determines the value it has to her, but not its overall value, or the value it has to me. Same with this life and these memories. I am so thankful I got to be a homeschooling mom to my girls. For me, it was treasure--motherhood, homemaking, our time together. Priceless. 

This has been a year of letting go. 

On, on.

Day story

 November 2024

Outside my window, gorgeous sunrises through the woods. I ran a race recently in an eastern part of the state where fall was in full majesty, the trees adorned with all the colors. But in my yard, the trees are bare and winter looks like it's made its mark. Makes for beautiful sunrise mornings. And sometimes I catch a burst of its glory in a sunset. I stepped outside to let Ruth out, and was glad for shorts running weather.

And I quote, 

"Fall foliage is undeniably beautiful, as easy to like as chocolate, but Knight felt that the woods were at their loveliest when the leaves were finished. He like the skeletal look of bare branches. 'I've read too much Victorian literature--old books, used, the ones with bookplates in them, and the plates always show bare-limbed trees, to convey a sense of loss or coming horror.'" (The Stranger in the Woods by Michael Finkel, p111-112)

And from the same book,

"I think that most of us feel like something is missing from our lives, and I wondered then if Knight's journey was to seek it. But life isn't about searching endlessly to find what's missing; it's about learning to live with the missing parts." (p183)

Giving thanks. I'm thankful for a new smile. I'm thankful that years ago I bought myself the good yarn. I just got around to knitting myself a bright red scarf with real, chunky wool. I'm thankful for coffee in the morning with my man, that Erin baked some chocolate chip cookies, and that Lanie still raids my room/bathroom for things (this time, a box of tissues). I'm thankful for Alana, whose son I once taught (she told me my class was his favorite lit class; I loved that class; I've loved them all), and that she chats me after classes. She and I recently attended a knitting meet-up, and after the hour, she chatted me about a student from a completely separate co-op who'd heard about my class and the goal project. Y'all. I've created quite a stir in the homeschool world. Also, grateful for a yes from Erwin, Amy T and Janet so far for 2025. Grateful!

In the school room, we have an agreement to finish. I'll call it a win. I look at this space--we were gifted a couch by neighbors back when Erin was in kindergarten, and for many years, we've read there, by the fireplace. This year, I noticed that my back hurts sitting there, and that it takes more effort to get up from it--all squish and worn. The room is due for an update, but I'm leaving it as is as much as possible--to finish out the school year, and then a switch with bookcases, new rug, new seating, new curtains. It will be hard to part with what has been our sweet space for the long of it. But we are all moving into new chapters. I tell myself, it's ok to change. 

From the kitchen, not much. I'm tired. I might make pizza tonight. And in no time at all, making food for Thanksgiving. Phe can't join us after all, but I'll still make a pumpkin roll because I promised one to a neighbor too.

I am looking ahead. With a new year unfolding soon, and homeschool (and other) chapters closing, I think about plans. I'll be finishing up school with Erin in the spring. Personally, I'm focusing on marathon training for the fall marathon, and adding more biking related activities as I consider building up for a 2026 plan. I'll do a couple of half marathons, but my big focus is the full marathon and two open water triathlons.

I don't want to forget all the ways we've celebrated life and holidays in this home. I was at Trader Joe's today and grabbed two chocolate advent calendars for the kids. It will probably be the last time I do this. I picked up a mini bundle of flowers for the kitchen. And I thought about all the years I've baked and hosted people in this home. Even though this year has brought about the roughest things, I'm choosing to focus on peace and beauty.

I am reading a Bible study on spiritual warfare, and one on the power of prayer. En route, several books on marathon running and training plans.

Around the house, finished painting the walls in the living room. Just need to do trim. Thanksgiving is just a couple of weeks away, and we usually do ornament shopping and put the tree up. We have new plans this year, but maybe we'll get the tree up that Friday. I'm more than happy with the Phantom ornament I got in Paris. I don't need another thing.

On the letter board: new mercies.

I value resilience.

A view of my favorite things

this was fun seeing her in my reflection--from my first half in 2022?

the good yarn--and I finished it yesterday

updating with a fresh coat

the knit and chat night

checking this run off my list

moody skies

I love when FB shows me a memory like this. Love that I can still hear bits of her practice from her room.

 

At the table, sat at a new table at a local knit-and-chat. Talked to a woman who reminds me of my beloved One Who Loves Me, and she even crocheted gnomes. It felt so odd to be someplace I would have (and have in years past--at another location) taken my kids to in our homeschool era, but going by myself, for myself. I guess I'm going to have to get used to it.

Chlorinated streets

A teammate who grew up as a competitive swimmer posts mainly about his swims. And he always talks about his jaunts in the chlorinated streets.

I haven't been consistent in my swimming, and mainly because I love running so much that I hate to swap out a morning run for any other activity. I often think, "I'll work in a swim in the afternoon." But the afternoon has its own tasks, and lap lanes are limited. One day last week, I made it in to swim only to find the lanes were at capacity, and I went home. 

This morning, I decided to take to the chlorinated streets first and then swing by the voting polls when they opened at 7a. I felt a camaraderie with all the other cars commuting this morning. Felt a kinship with the other members of the gym, cars in the parking lot, and us there before the sunrise. The happiest moment was finding several open swim lanes. I enjoyed a lane to myself the entirety of my practice. Left with over 1,000 yards covered and plans to return later in the week to build my base. (Remembered when I first started two years ago, I couldn't even swim a length--25 yards--without stopping halfway, gasping for air. Haha. And today I didn't want to stop. Oh, while I'm in the swim, I think about how much I love swimming. Running, who?)

Next year's race line up looks a lot different: open water triathlons and longer distance biking events because I'm trying to acclimate myself to longer triathlon to compete in Ironman 70.3 in 2026. I'll still fit in a couple of running races, and perhaps one or two half marathons. Eying the Marine Corps Marathon for 2025 and contemplating my training for that. There's a quote,

"The race always hurts. Expect it to hurt. You don't train so that it doesn't hurt. You train so that you can tolerate it."

I stood in line to vote, outside before the doors opened along with a bunch of other citizens. I was in and done in twelve minutes. I could smell the chlorine from "the streets" on me. Came home to make buttermilk pancakes and get a shower. Heading out to enjoy a hike later today with Erin.

What is love

I was looking over my goal planner for this year. Looking back at what had been looking ahead to a year filled with hope, dreams, intentions. Mood boards of imagery. Quotes and Scriptures to encourage. Plans marked out. Races blocked in. 

I didn't anticipate a January injury. A February fumble. A March rupture. An April undoing. A summer of separation (kids away). A fall of faith walking. What is love?

 Action was the word for 2024. I thought it would likely focus on the busyness of training for triathlons and half marathons. When I have purposed to do four halves in a year, this year, I only did two. Heat waves and hot flashes--with the heaviest fatigue and slowest muscle recovery--had the upper hand, and no amount of motivational pep talk could push any of it back. 

So in a way, I could say I didn't do half of the stuff I hoped to do. Even when it came to cramming a year full of learning in this last stretch. Even when it came to doing all the things as another and last childhood comes to an end. 

Yeah, looking through that planner, the pictures, the plans, I wondered why some things weren't improving and some things were getting worse. In 2018, my very first year of goal setting, the first six months were eye opening. I set stupid little goals that were more about busy work to check off and suggest a feel-good progress than actual action steps to get me somewhere. And once I reframed my choices, I was able to make real, visible, measurable progress. This year, when I was stumped and stuck, I had to take a look again--why wasn't I getting anywhere? 

I discovered this: I was relying on someone else's actions or attitudes to achieve my goals. Like in a home focus, especially regarding family, if I want unity, closeness, and together-memories (which are wonderful and good), and one or another does not come or contribute, how do we achieve accomplishment? We don't. I can only ever take credit for the work I do. And if I can only take credit for the work I do, then why was I accepting failure on behalf of someone else's apathy or inaction? (I should have only been evaluating how I was showing up, not whether or not I achieved a goal that was dependent on other people.)

I thought somehow action this year would have looked like finish lines, medals, and milestones. Instead, milestones have felt weighty like millstones. 

I reframe purpose and plans, yoking myself to Christ whose yoke is easy and burden is light. If love is action ... I keep offering hugs. I keep uttering love. I keep making the meal plans, shopping for favorites at the grocery store, preparing a soup/mac and cheese/baked good. I keep folding the towels and sheets. I keep putting them away. I keep up with caring for pets, sweeping the floors, and filling the sugar dispenser. I unload the dishwasher. And that's just in the seen realm. In the unseen are pages of prayers and words lifted up; a continual wrestle to do right when wounding wants me to call it quits; a love that protects, trusts, hopes, perseveres.

When one chooses not to take any action, return any words or embrace, offer any participation or inclusion--I'm not going to call it my failure. I call it my opportunity to love in action. And that's a credit that I'm willing to take. Love never fails.

At a year's near end, the goals and good things I hoped for didn't happen. It was a year of a lot of yuck and heartache, but something else happened--humility, a deep prayer walk, a deeper Scripture study, a kingdom focus like never before. A perseverance in heart over a physical endurance of distance. When my focus was outward, God's focus was inward. 

The one who says he will do the work (but doesn't) is not the one who gets the credit. The credit goes to the one who does the work. Action speaks.

I've been doing "a word of the year" for a long time, and I always learn something new about the word and its application in life. It's been a deeper journey than I ever imagined, and this year is no exception.

And still counting ... (19,851-19,907)

 moody morning skies in October, a week of chilly morning, sweater weather, a scarf kit to knit, sunrises in the woods

how Erin asked me what were my top five favorite things about this year, and how she told me about hers and it was way more than five, for good things that happened for her, a mac n cheese bowl from Panera for her, sunshine

unexpected rest days from a grouchy IT band caused by stretching, a team evening run, for Kit who prays for me and my daughter, podcasts in the car

macro counting, index card meal plans, tutoring, for Marie who told me her daughter took up knitting after seeing her son working on his project, for feedback on time management

the prettiest pink sunrise on Lanie's 22nd birthday, a warm October afternoon, a cold morning for a 5k, a drive through childhood streets, birds in the trees

birds plucking berries off the bushes, the hula hoe, getting the front garden in shape, a faster 5k, repairs around the house

books in the mail, after-class chats with moms and connecting in this stage of life, a warm and sunny drive, a book gifted, texts with Christy

Ruth, a fleecy and Epic sweatshirt on chilly mornings, the hum of heat in the house, creamy coffee, friends who raced Ironman and reading their race recaps

discernment, friends who get it, weighted vests in the mail, a great day to run a 10k, all the creams and oils for sore muscles

plans for a next month, thoughts on the end of an era, house numbers, Amy T, a chat with Kat

pumpkin rolls times two, chicken foot soaks, rewatching Stranger Things with Erin before the last season starts, Medal Monday, chatting with the French AI

back on two teams for 2025

Twenty-two

I was twenty-two when my mom died. I hadn't graduated college yet. I was in a relationship that would end. Had not yet met my future husband or gotten a real job or bought a bike ... hadn't even conceived what my future would hold. I would meet Shane much later and marry. We'd live in three different places, have two living children, and one who died. I'd have had jobs and then become a homeschooling Christian. I would spend the rest of my life studying other women, being drawn to older women for mentorship. Anita, Linda, and even Robbie--who finished well. And every woman around my age would have skills and knowledge I'd try to imitate and gain. There are too many to name.

I named Lanie after my mom. I wanted to honor my mom. And even though we'd had a sometimes challenging relationship (she was depressed, angry, and a smoking alcoholic battling cancer who wanted a different life, I'm sure), my mom was my mom. And in the end, that very end, holding her hand the moment she died, I had just whispered in her ear earlier, "I love you, Mom, and I know you love me," she had given me, perhaps, one of the deepest lessons I carry still. I even expressed the words at my dad's funeral.

"I think that's all any of us wants: to love and be loved."

It's all I wanted from my mom. To love, and to be loved. That's what her life taught me, about love.

It's what I've focused on my children, the deepest desire they'd know that they are loved by me. I have always told my kids that I love being their mom, that I love being a wife and mom, and that it's one of the greatest gifts.

So now that Lanie is twenty-two, I reflect upon another personal-to-just-me milestone this year. I look at her, and think of myself at that age. Nothing has shown me more the heart of the Father than being a mother. Nothing has underscored God's great love and patience as much as the highs and heartaches of being a parent. 

In my heart and always, love. Happy birthday, Lanie. 

From 2023

2023

And still counting ... (19,747-19,850)

Comfort and Joy tea on a chilly and rainy day, brie and crackers, a 5-mile run, that Erin is baking cookies for a hangout with her friends (virtual)

a really lovely back-to-school night, how it felt to be with other homeschool families, meeting students for my class this fall, all the first-day ideas, a last first day with Erin

couch cuddles as we talked about future and plans, learning to fully step into life as it is, friends who pray, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, all things French

iron that sharpens iron, when sinking to the level of my training looks better and better, twinkle lights on the mantle, an overcast day and Havana Nights burning, Alana for sitting in my class and knowing how to knit (I had no idea!)

for her son who was in my medieval class and thought of me as a favorite, for things prepared for me in advance, Marshall's Mom who knows enough about me to know how draining a conflict can be, five miles that flew by on a rough day, the answers on the homework assignment that struck my heart (things adults wish they had known when they became independent--and it was mostly how to treat others)

Jamie's Happy Lights for seasonal depression, longer nights, cooler temps, a backpack full of medals, another beautiful season in this home

for parents who understood the real assignment, for skirts and dresses and blazers, the mama whose expectations I didn't meet, the confidence in knowing I'm not for everyone and I don't need to be, knowledge of what I bring to the table

for the mom who reached out to me in concern about (her) behavior, that she put herself and their relationship on the line because she realized so much was a stake, for a day that pulled me apart like being drawn and quartered, that I still have tears left to cry means I'm not done yet, misty rainy days

friends who understand the insecurity, the student whose grandmother is teaching him how to knit a scarf, the student who already finished hers (and it's beautiful), scrutiny, tension

the sanity/insanity of running to a song on repeat, for William and his mother's precious memory, a big pot of chili for leftovers, for Amy in the trenches, kittens at the feed store

Ulta with Erin, perfume in the IPSY package, mushroom string lights in her room, watching Dear Evan Hanson with her after school, a mom's night meeting with a treasured friend as guest speaker

that she is a bold voice at the front of the battle, how she sat next to me at the table, her encouragement for all not to be cowards, promises for a proper dinner out, for the divine introduction before we had ever had kids

the older woman behind me at the grocery store who won 3 senior olympic medals, musicals with Erin, a card in the mail from Anita, Nora's words, Nella's smiling birthday photo popping up as a memory

a birthday text from Shane, Lanie's happy wishes to me, Erin baked me a cake, messages from friends and family, a really nice day

that 10k and those hills!, a post-race nap, hanging out with my teammates, the woman with the dragonfly tattoo who was pacing with me, a hot shower at home

how Ruth loves the dog log, how she leans into me and acts as a barrier between me and anyone else--including the kids, home-sweet-home even with dog hair on the floor, wood stacked, chimneys cleaned

wearing long sleeves and sweats comfortably, students' answers to questions, the sugar dispenser to fill, a dishwasher to unload, blankets to wrap up in

a super yummy gf cheesecake from Wegmans, talks with Christy on the phone, roots touched up, podcasts texted to me from Amy T, getting to be a comforter to Erin when she needs it

the Marry-Me chicken soup recipe for dinner, good sleep, sunny skies, that Lanie wanted some cheesecake too (she had two slices and I felt so happy to see her enjoy it), salon curls in my hair

compliments from my man, a next-year goal planner and day timer, the student who is knitting a blanket with fat yarn, lunch out with Anita, an application for 2025

talks of Phe at the Thanksgiving table this year, the warm and fleecy sweatshirt on a chilly evening, Frisbee after dinner with Ruth, all the memories here (online and in this house), texts with Tara for upcoming races

 

She's 83 and a huge blessing to me

Day story

 October 2024

Outside my window, the markings of fall. Lots of crunchy leaves underfoot. I ran the tractor through, in delightful cooler temps, a break in the rainy weather we've had. Shane got Big Blue closed up for the season. We have wood stacked in the lovely wood rack he built. My vegetable and herb garden is mostly spent. The years sure do go by fast. 

And I quote,

"Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving." (Colossians 3:23-24, NIV)

Giving thanks for tutoring. This year's bunch is probably the toughest crowd I've had, but today felt like such a turning point, and I was grateful. We played Bingo in class, based on activities assigned last week. The phone holders (the thumbs up molds) were well received prizes by both males and females. And one lucky student chose a gift card to the community college bookstore. However, several students were eyeing the spaghetti squash I had from my garden. I ended up sending it home with my classroom helper. I got to meet one-to-one briefly with students to discuss projects. I wish the class wasn't so short. It's hard to fit all the things in, and I feel like I only scratch the surface. It was a good day, and I am grateful. 

In the school room, we have books galore. Erin's backpack is out where she carries around her art supplies. She often draws while I'm reading history or literature. She recently bought herself some graphite pencils that she really loves. As a parent, I want to buy her all the things, but there's nothing like making purchases with the money she earned, and she's told me so. She likes being able to shop for herself with her own money. 

From the kitchen, a request for quiche from Lanie. I look forward to getting my head around macros again. I ordered a bread loaf pan for mini breads recently. Already dreaming of breads and rolls for Thanksgiving, or chilly days and fall soups. This year, we may have a new guest at the Thanksgiving table, affectionately known as Ephesians.

I am trying to get my head around my training plan. I'm pretty sure both August and September I didn't plan out my running schedule. And strength training dwindled to once a week. And swimming dropped off for most of September. I've been so unexpectedly tired. I still can't seem to shake it. Muscle recovery seems to take a lot longer. I still feel wrecked by those 10k hills.

I don't want to forget how Erin curls up against me after school and we just spend time together talking about stuff. The day after her birthday this year there's a local performance of A Christmas Carol, and it's my favorite. I hope she'll go with me. It's the year of lasts, and this would be our last holiday performance as homeschoolers. A Christmas Carol is my very favorite story. There hasn't been a time when I've read it or have seen it performed that I haven't cried, and always at some other part. I guess it's because Scrooge reminds me of my dad, minus the reform story. And I would cry for that as well. I don't want to forget how Lanie stood on the other side of the door to ask me a question in her concern, and how for a moment, I felt like her mom again, needed and valued. I love my kids.

I am reading a little here on looking ahead and not behind, about praying for adult children, about developing mental toughness, about the 'next chapter' stuff. I want to read it all.

Around the house, thinking about how I want to show up in the world, and in my family. Remembering, the one who does the work is the one who gets the credit, and is the one who receives the blessing. Lord, help me not to keep score. It's me against me. I want to be better than yesterday, and that means not carrying yesterday's unnecessary burdens into the day. Don't let me get tripped up over a bad attitude (mine or anyone else's!).

On the letterboard: Clothed in strength and dignity

I value peace. My family. Faith. Health. Exercise. Excellence. Education. Self-control. Endurance. 

A view of my favorite things:

before we ran the hills

when my resting heart rate is in the low 50s again--and that gorgeous stress level!

next 10k

it's fruit, right?

so proud of this woman

 

At the table, a school table. Math to grade. Grateful, grateful for this life and these experiences.

Wishes

I could hear him upstairs getting ready for work. Suddenly, I received a text of happy birthday with accompanying emojis from him. When he came downstairs later, I casually mentioned, "I got a text from someone impersonating you, wishing me happy birthday. But I knew it wasn't you because they used emojis."

He laughed, "My phone prompted all of that. I was just going to write happy." He cracks me up.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him standing in wait. I turned to him. Normally, he sets his stuff down on the school room table and then gives me hugs and a kiss goodbye. That day, he looked at me while I fixed my second cup of coffee.

"Oooh, are we doing this in the kitchen? Spicing things up for my birthday?" I dramatized.

We laughed together, and whatever the day would hold, I was glad for this man's arms around me and humor to make me laugh. 

Lanie was next to offer happy wishes. And later, Erin insisted on baking me a birthday cake. 

I taught at co-op, which was fun, cracking eggs and other activities, including a gift wrapping session that my assistant supervised. She said to me afterward, "I offered to show them how to do it, but they didn't want instruction." The wrapping was evidence for sure ... close, but, no. And some a very comical NO.

It made me think about how God has given us instruction through his Word and Holy Spirit, but people go off script and rogue, and it shows. 

One mom spoke to me about her child, who at seventeen, made her question her parenting, I guess because of her daughter's work ethic and habits. And just as we had been discussing conflict and how you can do all the right things, but you can't control someone's response, it's kind of the same with parenting. Kids from wealthy homes, kids from poor homes, kids from Christian families, kids from non-religious families, kids with invested parents, kids with absent parents ... we each make what we will of life, and I think to a large extent, it's dependent on our relationship with God ultimately about how we number our days. 

Erin told me some birds live twenty years (this in her latest appeal for another pet), and how she'd be almost forty before this one type of bird died. I considered my own years in light of it. 

Would I be close to my kids in twenty years? Would Shane and I be healthy and happy? Would I still be running? Would we live in this house? What would my walk with the Lord look like? When ten years ago I thought my running days were over, how the Lord must have laughed because he knew I'd become a triathlete ... what kinds of things feel like an end that he will resurrect with assured joy and abundance? I'm going to trust him with these things. 

²⁰ Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, ²¹ to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen. (Ephesians 3:20-21, NIV)

Amen.

For my future self

 I did a grocery run yesterday. An older woman, in upper seventies at least, was in line behind me. As I bagged my things, she stared at me.

"Born to swim, bike, run," she spoke as she read from my shirt. 

We smiled at each other. 

"Do you swim?" I asked.

She rose taller and said with pride and confidence, "I won three medals in the senior olympics! And I did a little triathlon once."

Her face was beaming. Mine too. We high-fived. 

"That was a few years ago," she added, trailing off. 

"Still counts," I said.

"Looks like you're feeding an army," she remarked about my purchases.

"A small army," I laughed. 

A retirement community was built recently in this shopping center, and the customer base has shifted significantly, affecting things in a new way: fruit that's ripe and ready to eat, music that I don't quite relate to, lots of older folks using the smaller carts. 

My purchase, already downsized because I no longer buy certain foods in chains anymore, still was enough for a family of four for a week. But when you're older and it's just two, or just you, you don't buy as much. Lately, I've been thinking on that, on dinners for two, or running the dishwasher at the end of the day when it isn't as full anymore, or the big trash totes that we won't fill the same in a near future. 

(A year ago, we played our last family night game at the table, thankfully at Lanie's request. But now, we are all in separate spaces, and Shane and I end up playing Frisbee or chase with Ruth because the kids are doing their own things now. A lot changed in a year.)

I waved goodbye to the older woman on my way out, smiling so big to have met a fellow athlete in line. 

I've thought about her all day today ... while I was running this morning listening to my one track ... while I was selecting friends to follow at the different upcoming Ironman races ... as Erin chatted me about Phe (aka Ephesians aka Immanuel) swimming and how we'll have that to talk about at the table on Thanksgiving ... thought about that woman's big smile and little cart. I wondered who cheered her on when she was earning those medals. I wondered if she looked at those medals when she got home.

I came across an old post from ten years ago when Shane was debating about whether or not to repair our treadmill and I said to him, "I think my running days are over." We laughed about that over lunch today, how I had no idea then that not only would I run a mile again one day, but I'd run thirteen, and even through Paris ... and I'd learn to swim. 

Yeah, I think of that older woman, and wonder if I was looking into the future. Remembering today to fight for my future self, to give her the ability to stand tall and confident one day.

Soundtrack

One of my favorite series we discovered in the television binge watching that 2020 kicked off was a show called Alex Rider. Turns out, it's based on a set of books about a character named Alex Rider. I watched the first two seasons of the show, actually repeatedly for a time, and admired the flawless authenticity of the characters (at least in seasons one and two. Season three seemed a bit forced, like someone gave them a great pep talk to be on their best behavior before filming.). I even liked the music they played in it (seasons one and two) and created a playlist of Alex Rider music for when I worked out. I used to use it running, but now I just use it lifting weights. 

Earlier this year as spring turned summer, Kenny Logins' song I'm Alright was a tune on repeat after the uninvitation. IYKYK. 

Now as summer turns fall, this fall has knocked me off my game in every aspect, on all fronts. I called it the turning because of repeatedly seeing the term in larger arenas. My own life is in a great tumbling, turning. All this year, a visual bombardment to armor up, to put on the full armor of God. These verses showing up on feeds and messages, like a sounding alarm.

¹⁰ Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. ¹¹ Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. ¹² For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. ¹³ Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. ¹⁴ Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, ¹⁵ and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. ¹⁶ In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. ¹⁷ Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.

¹⁸ And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people. (Ephesians 6:10-18, NIV, emphasis added)

I heard a song on the radio. The first time, I thought, "I need to look this one up." But I didn't. Then it came on again, and I remembered, oh yeah. Now it shows up everywhere on my feeds and in messages. Take It All Back.

It's also on repeat on my runs. 

When I have a song on repeat, it's almost like time stands still. I don't notice how many times it's played, I only notice it's playing. I can't guess how much time I've been running based on where I am on a playlist because it's only one song, over and over. And even though time is out of focus, sometimes over an hour (crazy, right?), my thoughts are always kept in focus. 

I've covered a lot of miles and hours with that song, and I still don't have it memorized, because honestly, there's a lot of thinking and prayer that goes on in my mind while that song plays over me. But when I'm out and about, if that song is playing, my hearing hones in and I am brought immediately back to alertness. 

Day story

 September 2024

Outside my window, we closed up Big Blue. It was the shortest season yet, as we didn't open until late July, awaiting a part for the filter. I got in a few good swims, for sure, but not nearly as many as I would have liked. Cooling temps and falling leaves, plus a forecast of more of the same plus rain, forced our hand to close up for the season. Leaves are falling like confetti and blowing into the field, to Shane's dismay. He loves summer and is not a fan of falling leaves and winter. But I love it all. I love every season's song. I love swimming. I love snow. 

And I quote,

"Things are not what they seem. We are at war. You have a crucial role to play." John Eldredge, Epic.

Giving thanks for a school year start that rubs like iron on iron. How a co-op's back-to-school presentation that underscored expectations of students (and families) not getting to pick and choose the work they want to do that a teacher assigns, stupefied me immediately the first week when a parent and long-time member tried to forge a different path for her child with an assignment. To any mama bears landing here, you think you're fighting for your sons. But know--I am also fighting for your sons: to do hard things, to silence voices of shame within and without, to know their value isn't tied to their peers but to their creator, to not only start but finish what they start. No one grows or benefits when someone takes the easy path.

In the school room, we are schooling. Now entering week two, the banner is down and the letterboard is changed (and ready to change again). We are going through subjects, and I love-love-love this: we are reading Victor Hugo's The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Erin has been resisting it daily, oh his tedious and long sentences! Oh, the endless, pointless, boring banter! But, oh, a breakthrough on Friday when she said that Gringoire reminded her of dramatic Frankenstein (not the monster), and she started quoting from Frankenstein in theatrical fashion, later to break out in laughter over Gringoire's over-the-top drama, and request, "Bend the page!" What a win! (Then he looked into the Seine at his feet, and felt a horrible temptation. 'Oh!' said he, 'how willingly would I drown myself--if the water were not so cold!' The Hunchback of Notre Dame, p47.) Thank you, God. 

From the kitchen, lots of smoothies. I did make a pumpkin quick bread on our first day back, but I haven't had a great appetite this week (got sick Sunday last week, and while my energy levels bounced back immediately, I still don't have a great appetite--but maybe that's because of the preoccupation with the Life Skills' goal project, lol), so I'm not entirely interested in meal planning. I might make a potato soup today since I have potatoes.

I am focused. A student's protest. A mama's request for conversation. A culture's influence. My own feelings battling me for spotlight. I am keeping my focus. I lose time and ground by being distracted. I'm lucky to have Marshall's Mom and Shane to bounce off my frustration--they grab my shoulders and spin me back around, pushing me with courage back into the ring.

I don't want to forget that when her friend scoffed at Erin not wanting to text with her while we were heading out on a drive, she told the girl that she wanted to spend time with me and talk, not be on the phone. Or that she requested a dinner and movie out with her parents, and she was looking forward to it. I don't want to forget that at this point in time, my daughter likes me, loves me, and wants to spend time with me. I am keenly aware of the breaking away period in a young adult's life, so this ground of welcome and inclusion is a treasured and precious gift. Especially when time together is my heart's love language.

I am reading books on cults, books on global issues, and a book by Christine Caine: Don't Look Back. Since August, I have purchased eighteen books through Amazon alone. This doesn't take into account the books I've borrowed from the library or purchased through Abe. I am in full-on binge mode of reading, and none of it is fiction or related to homeschooling. And the growing piles of books are becoming looming pillars. 

Around the house, I am trying to be intentional about sweeping, opening windows, cleaning windows, doing laundry, dusting, having good smells and good foods. Trying to maintain a space of welcome, peace, inclusion, and cozy. However, the books are battling me for ground.

On the letterboard, soon to be removed, Team Wilbur. 

I value truth. I value integrity. I value endurance. 

A view of my favorite things

 

iron sharpens iron

my back-to-school hair

snagged a cinnamon roll for Erin when I had coffee with Sharon

team

groggy first day

race day working behind the scenes

perspective

At the table, oh, my tables are changing. Sometimes Lanie joins us for part of a meal, but it's rare. And Erin generally eats later. So right now, my school table is my constant. And Shane. I can always count on him to sit with me and enjoy a meal and conversation. He was my best friend before kids, and he'll still be my best friend when they are gone.