The Practice Within the Practice

For Lent, I decided to wake up an hour before Jack so that I could make time to pray, write, and think clearly about my day.

I did this... one time. And that Once was because I had to pack to catch a flight. No moment of silence making lists of gratitude; no signs of restfully sitting and sipping hot lemon water. The Pre-Mom Me would denote myself to failure and speak some words of self-hate in my mind, but I'm growing up and learning I'm better than that. I have always been drawn to the imagery of seasons. Growing up in Chicago, I remember the first signs of buds returning to their branches this time of year, bringing with them the hope of newness, sunlight, longer days, and the bliss of summer. Nobody told the buds to come back; nobody taught the flowers to bloom.

Our bodies, our lives were created this way. We were made to rise and fall with life; walk in the trenches and hike up the mountaintop, wake up early and sleep in. Yes - I am a Goals person. Yes, I am an Enneagram 3 Achiever, but I recognize that this is a season where I find the early morning hour too early; a season in which sleep trumps ALL.

I've always been a morning person - lulled by the sweet light of the sunrise, smell of the coffee, goals and prospect of the day. These moments are where I have drawn motivation, inspiration, perseverance. But I can't rely on the morning for these moments anymore; I have to find them throughout my day. It's a discipline; it's a practice. It's noticing and being present. It's not seeking the practice outside of Jack, it's finding it within time with him.

I read something that struck me today: "It took me a long time to realize that the activities of motherhood were the practice, rather than practice being something that I could fit in between those activities."

It is here and it is now with Jack. Thank God for seasons. And Jack's cuteness.

Skisteins 2019

Just when the sun began to peek its face and the weather carried a sense of dew again, we traded the San Diego beach for the Colorado mountains. Maybe because we grew-up skiing every year, or because Mikey/Jill/Rosie live there, but in a way Denver feels like a second home for the amount of time we have spent out there. It only feels natural to be heading out for a ski trip this time of year - it almost feels like summer can't come without it.

This year was different than all other years in the way of Babies. This mostly effected how much Ben and I were able to be on the mountain - and the fact that we couldn't be on the mountain together. We divided up into a Guys Ski and a Girls Ski, which actually worked to my advantage because I have an ongoing fear that I will get separated from the rest of the group and get accidentally taken down a back bowl. Jillian was basically my Ski Marm, I avidly followed her skiing expertise as she walked me through the lift connections and warned me before any black diamonds. We had so much fun chatting on the lift and connecting in a way that only happens skiing one-on-one (and over a 2 hour cabin lunch break...). At one point we skied into a parking lot off a hidden side of the mountain as I fed Jack between ski layers and Jillian hung in the trunk manually pumping for Rosie. Sigh. Skiing & Mom Life.

Baby Cousins! Things to note: Jack slept in the closet, Rosie almost crawled her way down the stairs, they shared solids, and are on their way to being besties

On the Girls Cabin Day, we chatted Wedding with Lauren, grabbed hot chocolate in Breck, and strolled the strip. I speak for Jillian when I say that Lauren completes us! She is easygoing, fun-loving, quick-witted, and always well-intentioned. She is the sister we have been waiting for and trips like these bring this truth to the forefront even clearer. She is the perfect addition to our fam and we can't wait for her to be a Goldstein in June!

Our evenings were full of laughter, games, and delicious food. Michael and Jillian cooked the first night, we cooked the second, and Lauren/D the third. We relaxed by the fire. We did family facemasks and played Sequence.

Needless to say, the Hygge was strong.

It is moments like these that bring about a deep, guttural thankfulness for my family. I recognize that not everyone has sibling friends. We are bonded in a way that is unique - it is a true testament to the work of God in our lives the way we are united together, enjoy one another, and are able to peacefully (most times...) speak into each other's lives.

Jack slept in our arms on the plane because the flight was during his bedtime. We didn't hate it.

The past six months have hosted more change than I have ever faced in my entire life. It has caused me to enter into a whole new rhythm, perspective, identity, and routine. We cleaned out our garage this past weekend, and I stumbled upon our Pro/Con list for buying and renovating our home vs staying in North Park. Looking back, I'm proud of our courage to step into unknowns - a new neighborhood, homeownership - in the midst of even more unknowns - having a baby and quitting my job. Us Kniselys thrive on a good routine - we love the familiar smell of coffee programmed to drift through our home in the morning, we like our fireside wine following a series of shows at night - we enjoy beach mornings on Saturdays and frequenting our favorite craft coffee scenes. We like what's familiar because it makes us feel known and safe.

At the same time, one of the things that drew me to Ben when I first met him was his love for adventure and getting out of the safety zone that's so easy for hibernation. I've never met anyone who's traveled more than Ben - he thrives on new experiences and risky undertakings in a way that is atypical for an Enneagram Type Six ;) In this way, we are both a mixture of risk and safety; adventure and comfort. It was our bifurcated selves at war in our decision to move; and I'm grateful we let our precarious sides come out to play.

Since moving to Clairemont, my whole world has shifted. Coming from a life in downtown Chicago for five years, my initial move to downtown San Diego felt like a culture shock. Almost instantaneously it seemed quieter, sleepier, and slower paced. It was a nice break from the bustle of Chicago streets and I remember taking a deep refreshing breath of the everyday beauty that SD so naturally boasts and the healthier lifestyle found in this sunshine and avocado state. Living in Banker's Hill then North Park gave me a dose of "city life" without actually feeling the stress of the city. All this to say, I could never expected what it would be like to move to Clairemont. Even though it is still considered San Diego proper, it seems like a whole different world. I've already mentioned my loathing for the sounds of trash cans coming out Tuesday night for Wednesday Trash Day - but can I double underline that please?! I didn't initially realize that my move to San Diego ushered in a natural progression of drifting away from city life; but I now find myself in this cozy little corner of San Diego living in stark contrast to my city days.

I am learning to settle in and enjoy it. While I love routine, my creativity and inspiration in life thrive on new experiences. A slow depression creeps in when I can't seem to occupy my time with new things and it makes me feel stuck. So I have been doing my best to create new within the familiar and - as my blog title states - "extraordinary within the ordinary."

I often find myself returning to the message of the Camino when I want to escape the everyday-ness of life. The true Camino starts when you return home. The discipline of any travel adventure is integrating the new experiences, the learned outcomes, the shared memories into your experiences of day-to-day life back where you live. Because life is not a constant vacation (though it can come close here in CA!) - real life is alarm clocks and brushing teeth and making breakfast and going to work. My challenge now is to accept this place that I live while I try to integrate my city-self here.

It all stems from Gratitude. Every positive experience of my life, every affirmation of myself has stemmed from an overarching thankfulness and discipline to see the Good instead of focusing on the Lack. It comes from a daily Thank-You for the things I have, the life I live, and the people that surround me. When I can muster up a heart of thanks - even when it feels more like a discipline and less like an outpouring of truth - it is then that I can have a new perspective on what I do each day. There is always God to be found; there is always truth to wrestle with and discover. There is always something that could easily be overlooked - the spring breeze floating through the window, the smell of dinner on the stove, the sweet baby giggles echoing down the hall - but gratitude allows me to see these things; to notice and appreciate.

In graduate school, I had a professor who would say that each day he prays "God give me wisdom and give me gratitude." That prayer has stuck with me and I've adopted it as my practice. Wisdom & gratitude... that's where life is found.

As an Enneagram Three, I want to know that everything I do carries value. Every moment of the day is amounting to something bigger than I can see; something meaningful. As a mom, this validation is not often assured as I go about my days. I wonder if what I'm doing actually matters; if how I spend my time contributes to the greater good I seek to live.

The truth is, being a mom is not about validation or affirmation. It is not about receiving encouragement from others telling me that I'm doing a good job. I simply have to trust that I'm doing all I can to choose the best for our little Jack. And that's simply enough.

Jack's shirt made by Jess for Juliette's 1st Birthday

We love days at the park!

Tandem swinging with buddy Owen

He just learned to sit-up

Here is the Before -- we are in process of finishing our garage for a playroom!

Weekend Getaway: Napa

Where to start with the highlights from our weekend trip... kid-free, lots of wine, delicious eats, fireplace snuggles, wedding vids, 70 + sunny... the list goes on. Case in point: Napa is a DREAM. As we waved goodbye to the grape lined streets, the only thing withholding my tears was the confidence in knowing this was not our last trip. 

Without Jack, it harkened us back to Our Dating Days; delighting in the freedom of our own timeframe, schedule, and spontaneity. I savor these moments with Ben -- opportunities to connect and learn more about each other's hearts, dreams, goals, frustrations, delights. In the shuffle of the everyday, our focus is often shifted to Jack and we have to intentionally ask the bigger questions, silly questions, and even difficult questions to pivot the conversation back to one another. 

On my favorite day of the trip, we had a 5 course plated meal with wine pairings as we sat in a valley of sun watching the straight edges of vine rows disappearing into looming mountains across the horizon. We savored the crisp of the rose followed by full-bodied reds, trying our best to presently absorb the beauty of the moment. Shortly after, finding ourselves in a German vineyard surrounded by laughing groups of picnickers and a delicious cabernet led us to remember our Favorite Day - two years ago - and reminisce on those first few weeks married. I'm not sure I will ever live a happier day than 2/18/2017; though I know I will come close.

Some days I am still in awe that I get to call Benjamin my husband, Jack our son, and San Diego our home. In many ways, three years ago I didn't know if this could ever be my future. I remember falling in love with Ben realizing for the second time how intimately God knows the dreams of my heart. The first was when He led me to Spain, the second was when He led me to Ben. For those who doubt, I offer this quote: "All I have seen teaches me to trust the Creator for all I have not seen" (Ralph Waldo Emerson). God is faithful, unexpectedly and unexplainably so. When we look back over the course of our lives, we see His gifts. He has been with us in the past and He remains with us every step into the future. He placed the dreams in our heart and it is He who allows them to materialize in a way that always brings glory back to Him.

Life feels fragile in a way because I know it is fleeting. Each morning is a reminder of the passage of time, as Jack grows another size and all my biases confirm that he just keeps getting cuter. The days and the weekends feel beautiful in their simplicity - morning giggles from Jack in between bleary-eyed coffee pours; the feeling of contentment at a day's end as the sun casts orange and purple hues scattered across canyon cliffs; Jack's sweet bathtime & bedtime moments - watching him fall asleep on the monitor as Ben and I soak in quality time with one another over a home cooked meal and a night of Netflix. Life is lived in these moments.

I will remember this season with such gratitude - every little thing Jack does seems precious in a way only a parent truly appreciates - the way he squeals with delight with the most high-pitched little noise; how he plays with my hat as if it's a toy meant just for him; his eyes growing heavy and peacefully shutting in the stroller when we go for walks; his fiery red hair receiving comments everywhere we go; his sweet cheesy smile that stretches across his face with simply one look at him; his chunky cheeks that I can't help but kiss every second of the day... It feels like this will be the rest of my life - but I know someday this little baby will be towering over me (at least if he gets his daddy's genes!) and I won't be able to snuggle him close and protect him from the world. In those days I will be getting a lot more sleep and perhaps a bit of time to myself - but I will look back and miss these day, realizing every sleepless night meant that I got to spend the day with my little baby boy, who is only a baby once.

I'm not sure how to be more present in this life; but I want to be. I want to show up with my full self to every moment and hold it in my hands with such a grip that it never leaves. I want to seek the adventure that is right in front of me; this adventure of becoming a mom, growing as a wife, and entering into a season with our little family. It is a gift.

Do you ever consider how many different lifes you could have over the trajectory of your lifetime? If you had said Yes to that one thing, or No to that other thing; if you moved to that place or had stayed in that place; if you hadn't run out the door later than normal and happened to run into that one person... life could take on so many forms. And the reality is, even when you are settled into the life you most presently lead, it could still take shape into something completely different.

I just finished Michelle Obama's book (and yes, if I could meet one person in the world it would have to be her!) A quote of hers that showed up in my underlines and has stood out to me over and over again resonates with the mysterious unfolding of life:

"For me, becoming isn't about arriving somewhere or achieving a certain aim. I see it instead as forward motion, a means of evolving, a way to reach continuously toward a better self. The journey doesn't end" (Obama, 419).

That's the key: the journey doesn't end. If anyone's life reflects that truth, it's hers. As an African American girl growing up on the Southside of Chicago in the 80's, she never would've predicted that her name would someday be known worldwide. I think about this for my life and the story I'm writing with it. I think about how I get stuck in an identity: Teacher, Wife, Mother... and I wonder sometimes what more there could be?! I get stuck on a path because I forget I can veer. I forget about the underlying skills and gifts that surface in those roles - the ones that could perhaps be stretched to other iterations of my identity.

I have a dream that is in the beginning stages of being birthed. It is all a series of thoughts and daydreams right now - ones that I talk myself in and out of because that's what I always do. My inner mantra of I can't do that; I'm not good enough; I don't have what it takes takes over and convinces me out of it. I want to take all of who I am and sum it up into something that reflects me at my core. My favorite themes prevailing: journey, exploration, discovery, growth, extraordinary in the ordinary... I want these to lead what I do next. We'll see if I ever have the courage to step out and make it happen.

I have always been drawn to children, with their innocent sense of wonder and deep curiosity with the everyday patterns of the world. For this reason, I knew at a young age that I would study Child Development and I also knew that someday I would have children of my own. I eagerly awaited this season, jealously eying the moms running errands in yoga pants from coffeeshops to Whole Foods, daydreaming of Mom Life when I could go about my daily rhythms with a cute tiny baby in tow. Sometimes I catch myself watching this play out before my eyes like a film in which I am the spectator instead of the leading lady. I find myself shocked to be in the role of Mom; that the day is not a distant daydream, it is in fact the reality of the life I live.

I don't struggle with a sense of purpose, because I find such fulfillment in days with Jack. I know that so much of my purpose is claimed by him, and I find that a noble and honorable calling to fulfill. 

However, I struggle with a sense of Belonging. I don't feel at home in the world of moms with older children - conversation topics of field trips and kindergarten teachers; the moms who have casually moved past the realm of diapers and sleep training and seem to look back on those days with a sort of non-envy only a new mom can recognize. While I love our home, I don't feel a strong sense of community on our street of retired folks - who in their best intentions to make us feel welcome, take in our trash and tell us they'll watch over our home while we're gone - which only serves to prove that this world is an unfolding of predictable patterns lacking the spontaneity and stories I thrive on each day. Sometimes I feel like a foreigner in California, having not grown-up in a world of everyday sunshine, surfing, and light layers, I feel a constant heartache for the makeup of my childhood snow forts and fireside hot cocoa. Renovating our home fulfilled deep-seated desires of late-night Pinterest finds and journal-filled design sketches, but to find myself as a stay-at-home mom on the edge of a canyon with only a Target within walkability brings a kind of loneliness that even someone with the #1 strength of Positivity can't rise above. I am left with the question of - Where do I belong? 

I belong as a wife to Benjamin, a mom to Jack, a professor at PLNU. I belong as a friend to our community here and the moms I find myself texting with each day. To those roles I feel connection... but when it's just me going about my daily days, I don't tangibly feel belonging to this rhythm I find myself living. I used to find identity through seeking wonder in even the most mundane but human moments of life - dishes, cleaning, errands - but I now find these events uninspiring and lacking anything of actual worth. I can't seem to sense contentment or an ability to bypass the ordinary and find the extraordinary as I used to somehow be so good at curating in my life. So I've immersed myself in other peoples' stories - podcasts, memoirs, documentaries - with an attempt to insert a glimmer of interesting from their life into mine. I so desperately hope to write my own book, but then I fear I have nothing to contribute - after all, who would read the boring story of my life? The life of waiting for the mailman at 11:30 and taking out the trash bins every Tuesday night? People crave adventure. I have nothing to offer in that realm.

I desire to come alive with the very marrow of life itself, to wake-up with a sense of inspiration unshaken by the day-to-day. But I don't know how. When I found myself stuck in a rut in the past, it has always opened a door to move or travel... but for me now, I feel trapped in the very real fact that this is not an option. Where does that bring me? I live with the internal motivation to do Everything with my life, and yet most days I feel that I have done Nothing. The inner voice tells me it's not enough - give more, do more, be more - but I don't feel the guidance or wisdom to know exactly where or how. I respect the roles with which I identify, but life lacks a strong tie to a community admonished with such deep attachment & affection that I'm led to do just about anything for it.

I don't have answers; only questions, reflections, and thoughts. 

And Jack smiles - always Jack smiles.

.

I have been thinking lately about what it means to nourish my soul... to do the things that make me feel the most Me so that I don't get lost in the identity of Mom. I'm so afraid of that - of having one singular angle to life and my world revolving around the Baby... knowing only how to converse of sleep schedules and feeding struggles instead of the important things of my heart and my life.

There is something about returning to the place where I grew-up that reminds me of my core Me - sifting through pictures and memorabilia that formerly consumed my world, and feeling alien to this old way of life.

There is a season that springboarded the formation of my deeper self - one that I am most thankful for - graduate school at Wheaton. It was there that I was immersed in the world of academia on a new level - studying theology and spiritual disciplines and critically examining my rhythms of life and experiences of God. Walks through campus in every season, whether trodding through snow or shuffling in leaves, brought me to reflect on God's faithfulness in leading me to a program where I was challenged to integrate prayer into daily routines and learn solitude and rest at a local monastery. Writing my master's thesis on the spiritual discipline of pilgrimage is a topic that remains close to my heart and one that I hope to explore even further at the university level someday. I remember people asking me - so what do you do with a degree in spiritual formation? While I don't want to dismiss the integrity of the question - it's a good question - it's also a fractional way to view education. The end goal of learning is not necessarily to do anything specific, but to become - to immerse one's head and heart into that which is transformational is always a worthy investment. The topics I explored and the people I met and the discussions I engaged in changed me. My outlook on life now is holistic in the sense of breaking down the silos of "my spiritual life" and "my everyday life" - I was taught rhythms to live by and topics to wrestle with. I became the best version of myself in the program, and I have brought myself - my whole self - to the work I do now with students.

In the past four months, my world has turned upside down and sideways with a baby... not just because of the extreme exhaustion causing my words to get muddled and my brain to be tired from the constant decision-making and anxiety that perhaps I'm ill-equipped as a Mom and causing eternal turmoil in Jack's life - but also because my focus has shifted. In some ways this is positive - I am certainly less selfish and more flexible - but in other ways I have told myself I have to lay down everything that is important to me. What I have considered lately is that in the laying down of my life for my baby and my husband, I can also take time to nourish my own soul and practice the contemplative rituals that are so dear to me - lectio divina, Taize, imaginative prayer. While I can't necessarily travel to a cross-country pilgrimage in Europe at this juncture of life,  I can be a pilgrim here at home, with Jack. I can immerse myself in landscape that draws me to Christ, I can marvel at the sunrise and the sunset that brings me to worship, and I can attend prayer services that provide a quiet and sacred space to experience God. After all, the saying on the Camino is that the true pilgrimage begins when you return home. The mark of transformation is when the practices and experiences of God along the route become the default way of living - I don't return to the habits that used to form my life. I break new ground and form new roads.

I have committed to finding a spiritual director here; to attending a contemplative prayer service on Wednesday nights, to writing even when my thoughts feel misconstrued and unintelligent. Because I believe these routines are life-giving and life-changing and make me the most Me. These practices keep me whole - which make me a more present Mom and a more compassionate friend and a more servant-hearted wife.

The Feeling of Being a Mom

Some days I get a glimpse of Jack and it hits me "I'm a Mom." It feels foreign and surreal because I always thought I would "be a certain person" when I became a Mom. When I was younger, I had a vision of what I would be like when I was a teenager or when I went to college or when I got married. I pictured myself as a different person; I imagined that I would somehow feel different... even though I can't exactly pin down what that "different feeling" would be...

The truth is, I'm still me. And in so many ways, I feel different... but I also don't fit that vision of the feeling I thought I would have. Maybe because life takes its turns and I never pictured myself Mom'ing in San Diego, living in Clairemont, or teaching at PLNU.

If there's one thing I've learned over the years, it's that life pans out better than my initial vision. Even though sometimes I want to fight for what I think it's "supposed" to be, being present to what life currently looks like brings much more peace. Letting go of the "ought's and should's" is one of my greatest challenges and disciplines.