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.