Intentions, Interrupted

I picked a 'word of the year' this year, and sometime around September I forgot to remember it. This is odd considering it's been my laptop's wallpaper all year, but we all know the phenomenon of refrigerator blindness and I think this functions in a similar way.

Luckily, my word is 'Grace', so I am letting go of my snarky self-talk and trying again.

You would think that I would take this opportunity to write a little essay on my word and what it has meant for me this year. But this ain't that post.

Instead, I want to tell you about my best intentions. I am great at beginnings, and the enthusiasm of fresh starts, and not stellar at follow through and completion. For example: At the beginning of November, I set a jar on the counter and intended to write little notes each day of things I'm thankful for, and invite Dave and any visitors to the house to do the same. Here is the jar today.



There's a red leaf in there. I put it in there yesterday, a week or so after Dave pointed out that it looked like we were thankful for nothing. My other thought was to take the lid off and say we are grateful for everything, and the jar is a cosmic symbol of the universe.  But it's a cool-looking leaf, so I feel good about it.

I am, as the kids (might) would have said in my day, hella grateful for a lot of things. But I guess I found out that I'm not 'calligraphy on seasonal scrapbooking paper' grateful.

I have a few items of seasonal decor that have sat waiting to be hung up for a few weeks. They will probably see the inside of a box for several months before they see a hanger. I intend to make apple cider donuts this week so that I can hopefully use the cider I bought to replace the one I bought two years ago that sat in the garage and seasoned itself out of drinkability. The sheer number of unfinished craft projects tucked into various nooks and crannies would make some of you cry. Let's all have a moment of silence for my dear long-suffering husband who is tearing up/breaking out in hives just reading this post.

But! Today! I am picking up a long-delayed project and going back to work on a cross-stitched Christmas stocking I started maybe 7 years ago. It's gonna be beautiful sometime around 2023.

Our Lady of Perpetual Calendars

Today (November 18) is, as I'm sure you are all well aware, Mickey Mouse's birthday. (I wasn't aware of his birthday until this year, and I'm a big fan, so don't feel bad.) I decided to add this important date to the 'Woodland Creatures' perpetual birthday calendar hanging on the side of my fridge.

Important side note - as a pregnant person, I was sure that Asher's name and my Woodland baby shower theme were completely innovative. Five years later Asher is a wildly popular name and every freaking thing in Target has a squirrel or a deer on it. Not complaining - I still love what I love with absurd glee. You should see the be-scarved plush critters I got on clearance last week: a-dor-a-bull.

So, the perpetual calendar. Mostly just family birthdays, with a few unusual additions. For example: 7 or 8 years ago, on a foggy morning, I ran over a rabbit on the way to church. In my late teens/early twenties, I frequently cried at the sight of roadkill, so this experience was devastating. In processing my grief and trauma, David and I created Frederich von Bunnington Memorial Day. January 3rd, of course. There is still some confusion as to whether Frederich von Bunnington (RIP) was a hero, a simpleton, or an existential bully. We may never know. But he is remembered, and occasionally toasted with a memorial carrot.

When I was a freshman at BYU, my friends created a calendar of unusual holidays for us to follow, and I am trying to put together some more similar celebratory days for my little family to commemorate. I could see us embracing 'Flip Flop Day' (traditionally in January) a little too easily if current weather trends continue. I may have to go digging through my college memorabilia and see if I still have my calendar - I need more holidays! What would be a good month for 'Treat Yo Self' day? I'm thinking February because February usually blows.

What unique days and events do you commemorate? What new holiday would you institute?

Trying to Write

Tuesday night, Asher didn't want to sleep. He woke at 1 am, a bit too warm under his blankets, and yelled "Mom! Mom! MOMMY! MAAAHMMMMEEEEEEE!" Which is actually the normal sound of my human alarm clock sometime around 6 am. But one o'clock is pretty punishing. I attempted resettlement, with fresh water and a lighter blanket and maybe a mildly threatening exasperation in my voice. My offers were rejected.

And I'm a sucker for cuddles, so we ended up on the couch, and hallelujah he fell back to sleep and we snuggled til 6:20. I know he won't always want to use me as a human teddy bear, so I'm cool with it on occasion.

Around 8:30, Dave woke up and could barely move - back spasm. His first of what the Dr. assured us will likely be many. We are feeling old.

He stayed in a chair for most of the day. And after Ash returned from preschool, they were both making plenty of requests for help. I was up and down, fetching and carrying, back and forth. Plug in the computer cord? Turn on Blue's Clues? Cough drops? A snack? A drink?

It took me a second after Dave raised his eyebrow to realize that the drink I was offering him was apple juice in a sippy cup. He politely declined.

I haven't felt much like writing. I just want to watch 'The Crown' on Netflix and fiddle with my phone. It's hard to create the space in my mind and life to put something more interesting together than haikus about poop. But hey, that's showing up, too. So I'm still trying.

Bad Haiku, inspired by a text to David

I love my crock-pot
but sometimes I wish that my
planning was quicker

---

do I smell diaper
or is it something burning

or this recipe

---

also, just as a 

heads up, dinner will be late

(sent at 5pm)

A Poem, on the arrival of cool weather

Thank you, last year's self,
for the foresight
the storage space
the fatalism
the grace
to save the jeans that had become too big.

A Love Letter

I was raised to be suspicious of artifice. So when Dave surprised me with a weekend trip to Disneyland a year or two into our marriage, I was only moderately enthused and mostly just curious. I remembered friends in childhood lovingly poring over maps of their recent adventures, and I was a big enough fan of 'Beauty and the Beast' to have several Belle-themed doodads in my recently vacated childhood bedroom. But I had always rolled my eyes at the 'sheeple' with rows and rows of pristine oversized white plastic video cartons in their rumpus rooms. I was sure that their copies of 'Fantasia' were just for show, whereas my dad had laid the foundation for a lifelong love of classical music by dwelling on the Stravinsky and patiently enduring the Sorcerer's Apprentice. I might be making that part up, but I do still find the Mickey part to be the least pleasurable of the options presented.

I felt a bad cold coming on as we drove down to Anaheim for Presidents Day Weekend. I was pushing Zicam and Cold-Eeze with the abandon of the uninformed - did you know it can make you nose-blind? One of my freshman roommates was nose-blind, and we would always try to get her to smell candles or shampoo until we remembered and felt renewed sorrow at her plight all over again. 

We stayed at the Holiday Inn right around the corner from the park - in walking distance. I remember wandering around Downtown Disney, enjoying the upscale-ish outdoor mall but not quite sure what to expect the next day. We saw 'Constantine' at the AMC there, which was fun. The bathrooms in that theater were memorably lavish, which was bizarre. 

I was fully prepared to go in to observe, people watch, see all the masses enjoying true old-fashioned American commercialism, capitalism in the form of a mouse-eared golden calf - I'm sorry that just got dark but I'm gonna let it lie because I'm trying to write this pretty quickly and it gives you insight into my young opinionated mind. I didn't like Six Flags so I obviously wasn't going to like this any better.

It was an overcast day, but my nose was miraculously clear and I felt excited and ready for the adventure. Main Street was cute and charming but we were here to ride rides, not window shop. Dave was super pumped to show me childhood favorites, and we started with one of his most precious - The Indiana Jones Adventure. We only got so far as the line when I started to notice something, and more importantly, feel something. The rocks felt like a cave. The lights were torches. I was entering a different kind of space and time. I spent the entire ride with my jaw on my chest - it looked real! It felt thrilling! It was, dare I say, magical! 

We came out of the ride into a torrential rainstorm - that weekend ended up being one of the wettest that year in Southern California. But that day was one of the happiest days I can remember. Because all the cynicism and suspicion and ideological dissonance was no match for the careful artistry and idealistic wonder of Disneyland. The bright-eyed enthusiasm for childlike stories and themes, and un-ironic pleasure in the tiny manufactured details, produced a feeling of pure other-worldliness that was intoxicating. Crowds were light, we were laughing and running everywhere, my feet were numb by the end of the day. I was spellbound and have been in love with the Mouse ever since. 

So young, happy, and comfortably dressed.

Luckily, my sister married a guy from Miami who loves it as much as I do, so I get to go to Walt Disney World with my family more often than some of them would prefer. My mom is still not buying any of it, but she does love the Rice Krispie balls so she comes along willingly. I could wax poetic about the joys and pleasures of all things Disney for much longer - but it's getting a bit embarrassing. I'm not extolling the virtues of escapism - we can't live in a Disney World every day. (Well, I know a few Cast Members who might like to disagree but they're special cases.) But there's something about Disney that bubbles up joy in my heart, and I love lingering in that feeling.

So I bought a wallet with Mickey Mouse ears on it. Please don't judge. ;) 

Our Piece

(I am terrible at cliffhangers, obviously, because I keep not answering the question I asked on Wednesday. But some other projects are more important, so I want to share something I did write today, and I'll get to the fun silliness next time.)

In moments of crisis, trauma, and change, life holds up a difficult and important mirror. If our hearts are in a harsh, self-critical place, we may be stunned, shocked and horrified by what we see - a human being so far from the image we were carrying of ourselves in our minds. We see our double chins and dimply thighs, our bad haircuts and pimples, our skinny legs and furry eyebrows. It’s a snapshot we weren’t prepared for, a camera we didn’t notice, in the poor lighting of the DMV or a dingy dorm hallway. 

The challenge - ALWAYS - is to bring the love of the Savior into that mirror. To remember Him, His Spirit, and to see ourselves through His eyes - as human beings, exactly as our Heavenly Parents made us. As children who are not as big as we thought we were. There is no shame in that. There is only love and encouragement. In these moments, I think the Lord is saying, “See? Look at what we’ve done! Look at what we will be able to do! Aren’t you marvelous? Aren’t you coming along nicely? Aren’t we proud?” Because they are. And so are all the people who love and support us. And we are beautiful, and the awkward pieces DO lend character, and those furry eyebrows are even on trend this year, which is truly as ridiculous a concept as it sounds in this context. 

In chapter 14 of the book of Exodus, the people of Israel are in an impossible spot. They have fled slavery, but Pharaoh is not letting them go easily. Behind them is pain, but pain they understand. And now, in verse 10, they see the pain coming after them, ready to take them back into its clutches. And before them, in the darkness, the moon glints on the waters of the Red Sea, an impassable expanse. And they are afraid. Because they are sure that they will die in this place, one way or the other. They will perish bodily in the wilderness trying to fight for freedom, or they will be dragged back into suffering and death by Pharaoh. They cannot see a way forward, but they are desperate to do something. So what does Moses, their prophet, tell them to do? Fear not. Stand still. See the salvation of the Lord. This pain will soon be far behind you. And then this verse, one of my touchstones:

 14 The Lord shall fight for you, and ye shall hold your peace.

I have spent a lot of time and energy fighting and battling against my own weaknesses and pains, and battling and fighting against the weaknesses and pains of others. I have worn myself out trying to be righteous or good enough to save myself and others.

But I have now come to see myself as blessed when I encounter an impassable expanse. When I can no longer put on a brave face in front of what scares me. When I must acknowledge and admit how small and incapable I am. It is in these moments that I can truly let the Lord do His work in me - where I can let Him speak peace to my soul because I no longer have to offer up an answer or a suggestion or throw a measly punch. In those moments, I truly have the only worthwhile thing left to offer - a broken heart. 

All I can do is be still, let this moment of pain pass through me, watch the Lord and his faithful ally, Time, do the work of healing. When I fight, I am fighting against myself. When I surrender, when I allow myself to collapse and let Him tend to me, when I see that all I hold is one little piece of the infinite patchwork of human life, I can begin again to take one step at a time, forward into the dark and glinting sea. The impassable recedes, the slurping muck begins to dry, and I step ever more sure footed, with the awareness that the path is not mine to make, but His. He tells us not to fear, but He knows we will. He is asking us not to let our fear keep us trapped, not to let our fear tell us that we have no choices. He wants us to open our eyes and see Him there, see what His work can be, if we let Him do it. And He is asking us to take a step. And another. And another.

Time, good or bad, will pass. The children of Israel were not walking into peace and ease and contentment - far from it. But they were stepping into a place of growth, where God could teach them and they could build a better world. Which they did, and still do, through a series of mistakes and failings and trials and wrestles and wars and loves and successes and beauties and prosperities and droughts and famines and a never-ending cycle of mundane daily acts of feeding, clothing, sheltering, and moving ever forward.

A little hint...

No one has guessed yet! And I've been very busy today, so I'm not going to reveal it yet, but here's a clue. My love for this was born during a trip we took in 2004, even though I was aware of it for basically my entire life.....

Foraging in the Wild

I used to make conservative choices when it came to things like wallets. I've been sporting a very functional dull green one for a few years, but it started getting all gummy and not zipping very well a few weeks ago, so I decided to find a replacement.

I like to scour places like Marshalls, TJMaxx and Ross for what is basically some department store's castoffs. These orphaned items deserve a home, even if no one should have wanted them in the first place.

For example, from my local Ross:

(This is not the work of one misguided individual with a chalkboard and no dictionary. Multiple people signed off on this. Let's all give them the benefit of doubting that English is their first language.)

But these days, functional no longer satisfies. I want to giggle. I have taken on the 'fun part' of Marie Kondo's work - I want 'my' things to spark joy, without having to go through all my old things to throw/give them away. I'm not a hoarder, despite what you might assume given the twitch in Dave's eye every time I open my closet door. In fact, I'm much better than I was when we were dating and my bedroom looked like a suburban gorilla nest.

So I went looking for a new wallet that had something to say, something a bit more exciting than 'I am an adult and this carries my dollars, stamps, and the shame of my rapidly-filling 'Frequent-Cookie-Buyer' card'. And so I have a new wallet. And it. Is. FUN.

But it's also a bit revealing of one of my most embarrassing enthusiasms. Not that the thing itself is embarrassing, but my level of glee about it is a bit too intense for an adult woman, propensity for cookie-buying notwithstanding. But it will make me giggle every time I pull it out of my purse for a long while, I bet.

So, can you guess? Will you try? I'll show you on Friday, embarrassment or not. ;)