A Note on Sacred Paths

 My first day in Santander, I was orienting myself to the city. I climbed atop an iconic tunnel and settled into a grassy knoll with my writing. I overlooked my anticipated future — I wondered who I would live with; where I would travel; what the school would be like; would I find love? I was a 23 year-old recent college grad with the world before me, figuring out who I was and my place in the universe. I knew that a year later I would go back to this claimed first spot as a changed person. I would overlook a city that had become familiar; these questions accounted for; and journals to tell the tales. I have been mesmerized by the Spirituality of Place since then - how physical spaces become landmarks, guideposts to who we are. They shape us, define us, give us perspective. They hold both the questions and the answers; the wonderings and the knowings. There are places since then that have offered these types of moments. Sacred spaces that offer a beautiful testimony to the journey. Places I have stood single, dating, married, pregnant, with a newborn, pregnant again, with two babes. These paths provide a foundation of gratitude; a well of thankfulness in recalling every part of the journey; every season of life; and a hope for all that is to come.

I sit and stare at a blank page, my mind thoughtless with exhaustion, a million to-do's clouding the ability to have a coherent strain of thought. What do I want to say? So much, not enough. The words don't always come. I have a writer in me that sometimes needs the permission to be set free. What I write in the moment feels like nonsense - random ramblings amounting to nothing - but I know someday, I hope, my words make a difference. If only to touch another's life - or perhaps just alter my own - that is what I yearn towards. I wrestle with comparison and competition - what do I have to say that hasn't been said? What do I have to put out there that isn't already "old news"? The deepest part of my desire is tangled up in a web of feeling like I can't. Or maybe that old perfectionist bug coming back to bite. 

My heart today is hopeful. Hoping for life as we know it to return. Hoping for all of this 2020ness to be over. Hoping for the vaccine to appear to people in a way they can't say No. Hoping, hoping, hoping. Hope is a vulnerable feeling, like love, there is always the fear that perhaps the worst is actually around the corner. But really, can it get worse? The burden of 2020 has fallen on the mothers - the mothers left without the support they so heavily rely on to get through the day; the lack of childcare, socialization (for themselves and the kids); answering to the pressure to work; patiently and lovingly care for children, homeschool, cook, keep a house clean... all of this on our shoulders. And where is the credit? Where is the affirmation? Where is the end-in-sight? For others, it has been a year of rest. For mothers, this has been a year of hell. Let's call it what it is and let it be that. It is the Mothers who deserve the standing ovation in this moment. Birthing children with masks on; going to appointments alone, standing before the world hand-in-hand with our children forced to mask the fear, uncertainty, and pain of it all for the preservation of a child's wonder with the magic of the universe. How hard this has been. As a mother, please be near and hear our cries. Let this year be different. Everyone needs to do their part to let this year be different, if not for yourself, do it for the mothers.

A Letter, For Jack

 January 26, 2018

Dear Baby Boy,

Right now you are moving and shaking inside of me and I can’t even feel it. I’m 18 weeks and the first trimester you made me so nauseous that all I could eat is bread. It’s okay though- I know it’s not your fault. Ben talks to you all the time and seeing him love you before you are even really real to us is such a gift. You are so lucky to have him as a Dad. You might not even know how lucky you are until you are a grown-up; but I know and I will always hold that close to my heart. I love you so much and I don’t even know who you are and who you will be yet. All I know is that you’re my son - and I hope to always be supportive of whoever you become- no matter if it’s a basketball player and surfer or not ;) We can’t wait to take adventures with you - we dream of taking you on beach day Saturdays and bike rides and coffee dates and Hawaiian travels. We can’t wait to show you all the beautiful things in life and have you know God through it all. We pray for you - that you would grow into a man that loves the Lord and lives with integrity. I pray that you will be just like your Daddy b/c he is the closest thing to Jesus that I know. I pray that we will always have a good relationship because I’m so terrified that you will hate me when you’re a teenager. I won’t always be a fun mom, I’m sure - but I hope not to be a nagging and annoying one! I hope you still want to hang out with me into your adulthood no matter how cool you are and how uncool you think I am ;) Right now I’m still pretty cool though - I’ll have you know! I can’t wait to take you to the park on playdates and in the stroller around the neighborhood. I can’t wait to see what you look like and love you exactly for who you are no matter what. I will always be here for you and be your number one fan - even if it doesn’t always feel like it. I love you my son and I can’t wait to meet you soon!!!! We are almost halfway!

A Love Note: For Ben

 February 6, 2018

Our love story started in the unforeseen pathways of the internet. Two people swiping left and right thinking there was no chance for love. She initiated a conversation and he responded and the conversation felt like a series of “me too” moments that seemed too good to be true. Meeting for the first time over drinks, there was a kindness in his eyes that felt contagious, a softness in his demeanor that showed me he was genuine, and a delight for life revealing a sense of adventure. The next few weeks were a series of happy hours, sunsets, bike rides, dinners, and enjoying the good things of life together. He listened and smiled and would never let me open a door for myself. It was in his calm, consistent, and patient way that I found myself daydreaming about being with him, missing him, and imagining our life together. He read my blog and showed interest in my heart and the depth of who I am. He told me I had a “heart of gold” which I had never heard before in my life. He invited me to Mexico with his friends and drove two hours across the border twice to come get me. He told me his intentions, that he was All In, a phrase I only knew from the movies. He assured me he would never want to hurt me, and if I ran away he would run after me. The way he looked at me showed me that he respected me. There was a safety, security, and ease with life with him. Day by day, it only got better, until I realized I couldn’t imagine going on without him. When he left for work trips, he made me scavenger hunts around the house; when I took naps at his house after work, he surprised me with gifts that I never expected. He woke up before the sunrise to meet me for coffee and he left work early to catch a sunset. The world became a place filled with beauty alongside him; like seeing it full of opportunities and adventures I didn’t think existed. He made me a picnic and said I love you while flying kites in a park overlooking the city- a love I never knew I could feel. More than anything, Benjamin filled my world with hope - hope in the goodness of God and His faithfulness to always provide. I didn’t think he was possible, I didn’t think a man like Benjamin could exist, but there he was in front of me, showing me that he was waiting for me. One step at a time, his gentleness caused my heart to fill to the fullest. That summer, we drove up highway 1, camping in Big Sur, beach’ing in Santa Barbara, and biking the Golden Gate Bridge. He gave me the greatest gift of my life and proposed just days before my 30th birthday over wine and cheese at our favorite sunset spot near his house. He flew in some of my favorite people and he surprised me with a celebration at a local wine bar. More than the greatest love of my life, Benjamin is my best friend. He is my teammate and partner, he is the one who listens and loves me at my worst, and cheers me on to be my best. In so many ways, it is hard to see what life was like before him, because I know he was always there, I just didn’t realize it. He was there in my dreams and my wishes and all the desires I have for my life. He was there in the break-ups with men who caused me to cry desperately at night and the prayers for a man who would see me for who I am. He existed in those moments, when the future was unknown and I remained hopeless and afraid. He was out there, like everyone promised he was. There is no Life Before Ben and Life With Ben, because you were always there - waiting for me and the day we would meet. Our love is the solemate kind of love; the kind that makes everything in the world feel right because you can’t imagine it going on with these two people apart.

Tacos in Baja, surf mornings in Cardiff, breakfast in our nook, bike rides to church, the Coaster up to North County, dinners with friends, hiking in Hawaii, walks on Adams Ave, cheeseboards in the park, pool days in Palm Springs, concerts in Laguna Beach, driving a fiat through Tuscany, wine tasting in the south of France, brunch in LA, miami vices in Cabo... these are the adventures of our first year of marriage. Just when I think my heart will burst if it loves you any more, I realize that it stretches far beyond what I thought possible - that I love you more and more and more each day. In so many ways, my life actually started when I met you, like starting at the beginning of a story that hadn’t been written yet. Life only gets better because YOU have shown me what life is really about. You have taught me that I am adored and cherished, that I am loved for who I am, exactly how I am. You have paved a way for me to be vulnerable and honest, and you have stepped alongside me in those moments when it feels so scary. 

As we look ahead to starting a family together, I know there is nobody else in the world who will be a more perfect fit to Father our child. I pray he learns what I have come to learn in you - that your strong and sensitive heart will show him God’s great love, your kindness for others reveals character, integrity, and compassion, and that your quest for beauty shows him that life is a grand adventure to be had. Our son is already the luckiest little boy in the world with you as his daddy, and I plan to remind him of that even when we both become “old and uncool.” 

I love you more than life itself - and day by day you bring meaning to my world. I cannot thank you enough for choosing me not just in our vows, but every day. For sacrificing for me, and giving me the world. Ours is a love that I know will only grow year after year, baby after baby (only 3 times!), and travel after travel. I am your confidant and will stand by your side through everything. I will fight for us and choose to always believe the best in you. I am your one & only, in and through it all. I love being in the world as a Knisely, it is the greatest honor and most cherished gift. You are - always & forever - the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

Browns' Park: City of Laguna

 Pregnant with Jack, reading this in a park, walking with Ben, I want to remember:

In this fleeting moment what extravagant respite as from promethean sunsets blossom, blaze, and secede from splendor and mystery

As booming surf speaks its mystical passage across the undreamed depths

June 23, 2018

A Note from My Phone: An Ode to the Blue House

 An Ode to The Blue House

So hot that our AC would take too long to cool the house so we all slept in the same room

Playing on the airplane swing in the basement

Playing in the pantry

Bowling alley counter

Family movie nights of Chinese food and Xena

Epic saucer swing

The feeling of returning home after vacation

It was the constant 

Wrapped up like a present at Christmas 

The old wood stove

The radiators

Sleepovers in the basement 

Redoing my room

My dad flying me back from SD my first Halloween away and I took a nap by the fire and read all day

LOTR marathons

The first home I ever knew

October 9, 2019

As I sit by the water with Jack finally asleep after a long and hard protest, I am reflecting in gratitude for moments in between the exhaustion that have been life-giving, abundant in beauty, and filled with the type of feeling I want to hold onto forever. 

We drove to find fall up in Julian last weekend, and it was everything autumnal I could hope for this season. We walked around town in beanies and Patagonias, reminiscent of cooler temps in the Midwest this time of year. We picked out pumpkins with Jack and took pictures in the patches. We picnic’ed in the hay field and Jack made us laugh with his constant babble, little expressions, and teeter-totter walk. His instability led him to taking a tumble on the gravel, splitting open his hand and lip... so we drove to a local convenience store and bathed him in hydrogen peroxide. Minor injuries and a teary Jack didn’t stop us from grabbing homemade pie on the way home. It is a day I will never forget and hope to replicate year after year as our family grows.

We took time to rest the past few weekends. To slow down and do some yard work and watch football and nap and be together. Most of our weekends have been filled with travel and visitors (which we love) - but it’s always a treat to slow down a bit and spend time enjoying our home. 

The exhaustion comes when Jack refuses his naps (he does MAX an hour a day split between morning and afternoon....) and the screaming while trying to get him to sleep for 45mins each time wares on me. I am learning to focus my perspective on the positive. I am thankful for Jack and being home with him, even in the draining moments. He does not make it easy on his momma! But I’m here for all of it - the messy and hard and tiring days - I will keep showing up for him. 

Teaching two nights a week has been a needed mental and physical release for me. I am nearing the end of the term and we have our trip to Japan on the horizon. I am ready to have a little break and time away with Ben doing what we do best - exploring and eating and being together.

My hope in this season is to continue to renew my mind in Christ. My world can get so small and my focus so convoluted some days. When Scripture is in my heart and I remember that it’s not about how much time I spend with God, but that I direct the entirety of my being towards him throughout my day that is where transformation happens. I want my mind to meditate more on Him and building His kingdom. I am learning what this looks like in this season. I am trying to be Present with open eyes and ears to what He’s doing around me and in Jack. 

I want joy to be the hallmark of my days. And this is only possible through gratitude. I am so thankful for this life God has given us - we have more than we could ever ask or need.

November 21, 2019

 Cute things jack does:

⁃ goes “ohhhh” when he goes in for an open mouth kiss

⁃ Wants to pet every doggy in sight

⁃ Waves at every airplane and kid going “hi!”

⁃ Walks around with his little bottle after a nap

His little breathing when he falls asleep in the car and his answer with “yeah’s” to every question. The way he stomps his feet to go crunch, crunch, crunch in the leaves and runs to gives us open mouth kisses. Fascinated by every airplane that goes by and waving to every dog. Going up and down the playground with the proudest little closed mouth grin like he just accomplished something wonderful. He bounced his head up and down every time he hears music and could sit and listen forever. He has the sweetest, most sensitive spirit that I’m learning will someday be his strength. He filled with joy that is contagious among strangers everywhere we go. His red hair is continuously a talking point and the subject of many interactions throughout our day. He doesn’t like to nap more than an hour a day, but it’s only because he has so much curiosity and excitement with life, combined with his daddy’s FOMO, which I know will ultimately lead him on extraordinary adventures. I love this child with a love so deep that he can cause my heart to burst with joy and simultaneously tear my heart in two at any given moment. (How does that work?!) My prayer is that he will grow to be courageous and strong, knowing God is with him wherever he goes (Joshua 1:9). This little boy is a world changer and we are so lucky to be entrusted to guide him as he grows. 

There are days my mind drifts back to the sway of trees, cool mountain air, and floating coffee aromas of the Camino. I close my eyes and the path is before me, mounds of backpacks lumbering into the horizon barely formidable in the hues of the distance. Deep breaths for the day, the quiet rhythm of boots crossing a sandy path, and the Return. Always the return into the mysterious morning silence ushering in the morning fog with all its promises for the day. Hushed whispers cross the path, friendships form, stories exchanged. Water from a stranger, shade from a tree, snacks of olives and prunes from local food stands. The not knowing of where you will lay your head and the trust that you will always have a place. The top of a church enclave, the basement of Catholic mass, perhaps the attic of a local’s home will become a safe haven for the night.

In reality here I am with my whiney toddler, pregnancy hormones, and a floor that hasn’t been actually cleaned in weeks. The chaos of my day engulfs my thoughts with no sign of the unhurried time of the Camino anywhere. I explained this to my friend Jenny recently and she told me: Rebecca, this is your Camino. This is your Camino now, in real life, happening before your eyes. That night I was brushing my teeth and disappearing into the fantasyland of possibly having no children in the house someday and silence and all the time in the world to wash my hair, and in that moment I heard - that time will come, but this is the spiritual practice. The peas smushed into the floor, the cries of my child as he reaches up to be held, the laughter of showing him a world of adventures. This is the Camino.

It is common along the path to encounter pilgrims on their fifth, sixth, seventh Camino. We all carry a longing to return to the place of transformation. We think it is the place that has formed us, crowning it with a magic we expect to continually rediscover there. No doubt, the history and landscape of the Camino is spiritually charged in a way I have rarely encountered in other places. But we don’t live our lives along the Camino. The Camino is in fact the life we encounter after Spain. To bring the path here, to see each day within the mystery of opportunity is to find God along life’s Camino. The Camino lays the foundation, gives me a framework, and has allowed me to experience these days as part of the journey.

We need friends who have walked with us over years of time to remind us of these truths. To help us return to what we already know about ourselves. Thank you Jenny for being that for me; for seeing me and using this sacred experience to help me see Motherhood more clearly. There is nobody else like you. You have reminded me that this is my Camino and I will carry these words in my heart.

December 12, 2019: A Poem for Today

Poem for Today

In the scheme of life

I believe there is no greater dream

Than a family.

Children to live on your legacy

Stories that have yet to live 

Memories waiting to be made

And the inexplainable love that comes 

From a husband and a child.

But in the day to day

This dream doesn’t always

Feel so big

It feels like grocery shopping

Highchair cleaning

Naptime protests

And laundry

(Lots)

But all these little ways

We keep our life going

Are essentially the dream

Adding up 

I just don’t always see it 

In the moment

Gratitude is everything

And in it all

He is here

December 11, 2019: A Poem

 Poem for Today

My days get blurred

With wonderings of time with you

Caught up in naptime frustrations

Or whining annoyances

Breakdowns alongside your breakdowns

And the constant questions.

But the part of my heart

You cracked open

As only a child can do

That part

Is where I feel motherhood

In its magnitude

Hugging my leg 

with repeated “mama, mama”

Open mouth kisses 

through the railing at the park steps

Tiny “roar’s” escaping your mouth

In awe with the lions at the zoo

Snuggles in the morning 

With your arms wrapped around my neck

And your quiet breathing in my ear

This is where that part of me

That answered to “mother”

For the first time

Seventeen months ago

Wants to linger as long as possible

Close my eyes

And hold the moment frozen in time

I am your Mother

And amidst the challenge of the everyday

Lie hidden gems of the beauty

That comes with the title

Mother

And Other Notes from my Phone

 I don't have enough time to write - but writing strikes me in moments. These brief moments I have, quickly jotting a phone note. These notes capture my days. My heart. My motherhood. These, in fact, are what I have right now. This is what writing looks like in this season - so here it is in its rawest form.

Jan 12, 2021:

On a rainy Jan 12th, five years ago, a swipe right conversation about the Midwest and love for brunch turned into a cocktail across the table at Neighborhood with this tall, handsome man. First I noticed his hands then his eyes then his height; but it wouldn’t be until later that I would come to recognize one of the things I have grown to appreciate in him the most. He is the most consistent person I have ever met; he has a sensitive heart; he only wants the best for every person in his life. I could never in a million years have predicted how this day, five years ago, would change my life. He defied all expectations, accepted me exactly for who I am, and has given me a safe place within his love ever since. Thank you God for January 12th (and the best friend who swiped for me, Jess Pinckney).

January 13, 2021:

We wake up to the sound of Jack’s cheerful voice “knock knock!” on the door, eyes blinking - what time is it? 6:30. Cannot get up yet. Urging him to go play or go back to sleep, but instead his warm body curls up next to us trading phrases “I love you mommy” “I love you Daddy.” Ford starts to moan, needing to eat. The morning hustle unfolds: Coffeepot, sourdough, breakfast of waffles, more and more stoopup and two buttas. So tired, even coffee doesn’t have the power to open my eyelids. 

They say “these are the days” and I’m trying to figure out which days they are referring to. The days when Jack is screaming so loud his little lip quivers and he starts throwing things at me and nothing can calm him down? The days when he breaks me down so that I finally put on a show for him even though I had already told him twenty times I wouldn’t?! When I’m listening to Baby Shark or Polar Efress so much that it keeps me up at night?

But oh my heart... (never finished).

February 25, 2021:

It’s 6:34am, Ford woke up at 5:30 and Jack is playing in his room singing songs about garbage trucks and acting out police cars. Ford and I snuggled for about 30mins before I fed him. I am trying to soak in this time with my babies. We signed Jack up for preschool yesterday and it’s hard to believe my little buddy will be in school in the fall. I can’t believe how fast time goes - what a thief. And yet, there are moments when I cannot take another two year-old tantrum, “no!” or blippi song. It is this enormous blessing - children - and this enormous challenge. It is both and I am living in the Both And. Both feelings are welcome and allowed attention; given their space and grace. I love these little boys with all my heart and soon I won’t remember these days - Ford rolling around on the ground, eating leftover food scraps, and laughing. Jack...

On March 10, 2021

A Phone Note:

Sometimes I wonder if our life has been reduced to only the most boring of things. 

To the waking up and putting to bed; the walks with the boys, crawling on the floor, meals upon meals. I wonder if all these little things actually constitute an adventure, as my soul holds memories of travels past. 

But I know that it is in fact the perspective and approach to these moments that choose adventure or not. I choose that which will satisfy or not. It is the attitude of the heart that determines the journey, not the unfolding of daily events. It is my choice. How do I want to live these days that multiply to life? Will I live grieving the crumbs I pick up, resenting the destruction of the house as soon as it becomes clean; the rattle of noise in my ear distracting me from my own thoughts? Or will I choose to be present to that which is not eternal - the growing-up of my boys and these stages where the world is a place of exploration as they discover who they are and what they will become. 

If there’s anything I hope they can say about me someday, it’s that I am here for them. I am present. To their needs, their thoughts, their workings-out of life. I want them to know they are, in fact, my life. They are not the distraction or the interruption. They are it: my grande opus; my life’s work. When I look at who they become, I will not see those dishes set aside, those phone calls unanswered, those “to-do” lists uncrossed. I will see young boys grow into men; the heart of my days, the affections of my passion, the adventure of my life. Now, here, this.

March 9, 2021

a Phone Note:

Yesterday I breastfed Ford for the last time. I grieve; knowing never again will I have this intimacy, this bond, this closeness with my son I have known for the past 10 months. I also celebrate, ready to reclaim the self that is wholly mine (if ever a thing, as a mom). I will miss it and yet I won't. It is such a paradox, motherhood. Busy with our children not a moment to ourselves, and yet when they go to sleep and the house is quiet as you're cuddled up with wine on the couch, the heart aches for your children.

A Note From My Phone

 That moment when I sent Jack with extra pants that were Ford's;

Or when I forgot to buckle Ford into his carseat as we drove to meet friends;

When I didn't heat the bottle to the right temp or put the correct amount of formula in;

When I completely forgot Ford needed to eat and skipped a feed;

When I served Jack Mac 'N Cheese for lunch for the fourth day in a row...

Or when he spills my entire coffee on the floor of Zara then pushes the emergency button in the elevator,

All of the forgetfulness echoing the inner voice of: "You're a terrible mom."

I choose not to hear

or believe.

I'm doing my best.

What more can I do?!

A Year It Has Been

A year ago, I naively thought the March 11th shutdown would last two weeks. There was disappointment (mostly about being pregnant and home with a toddler while it rained all day), but I was able to overcome these frustrations with relishing in time together at home - pancakes in the morning, walks around the block after dinner, online church on Sunday morning, Zoom games with friends. The fear in the lack of supplies - toilet paper and sanitizer - the wiping down of every item that crossed the front stoop - now feels like child's play compared to what was to come. We didn't know all that 2020 would hand us - a front row seat to understanding the nuances of Privilege; the radical division in our country rooted in an age of Information Confirmation; the global effects of narcissistic, evil leadership; and the deep grief that so many families have faced in the wake of death, unemployment, lack of childcare, and closed businesses. The inner work we have been forced to undergo shakes us to the core of our humanity - our identity - who we are, and what life is all about. From then until now, I have also seen the resilience of humanity - the rise-to-the-occasion attitude we can shield ourselves within - and the ability to choose joy and believe goodness despite circumstances. And that, is truly remarkable. If anything, we have learned that we still have a long road to walk to become the America we all believe we can be - the America that provides equal rights to all without bias to skin color and the America that can truly unify under the flag. It will be long, it will be gritty, but it will be necessary if we want to provide a better world for the next generation. 

March 11th, 2020 is the day the world got rocked, and a year later we are still living in the cracks of that quake. But, I do believe, we are broken before we can become whole. And perhaps that is the silver lining in all of it. Also, the vaccine. Thank God for that!

 This poem was recited by the character playing Margaret Thatcher on The Crown and it struck me:

"YOU have no enemies, you say?

Alas! my friend, the boast is poor;

He who has mingled in the fray

Of duty, that the brave endure,

Must have made foes! If you have none,

Small is the work that you have done.

You've hit no traitor on the hip,

You've dashed no cup from perjured lip,

You've never turned the wrong to right,

You've been a coward in the fight."

"No Enemies" - by Scottish poet Charles Mackay (1814-1889)

When did we get so easily offended by it all? Or so afraid to extend the truth of our full selves in fear of non-acceptance? I am proud to admit that I am a recovering people-pleaser and I am learning to shed this piece of me as I grow into the fullest part of myself. I have realized that not everyone will like me, that's okay. While I occasionally feel the pull to please - the desire for acceptance and belonging in everyone's eye - I no longer need these things to be who I am. I live into the pieces of myself that might offend knowing that to live vulnerably, to live wholeheartedly, to truly show up to my life, not everyone will like what I have to say, agree, or accept. That's okay. I don't need it to know who I am and live into the Truth I know deep in my heart, feel in my spirit, and long for in my soul.

Word of the Year: Embrace

 I've wrestled with my role as a mom for a few years now. (I purposely don't say identity, because personally I don't find my identity in motherhood). I've fought with the person I was pre-kids. The Free Me. The Contemplative Me. The Working Me. Trying to fit into those pre-baby sizes and get back to that pre-baby body. The Me that used to sit with a hot coffee and write for hours in the morning. With the grieving and releasing of 2020, this is yet another thing I let go. I am on the journey to embracing who I am as a Mom; yoga pants, minivan, wrinkles, and all.