Lined Up Colorful

Just before the holidays, my family took a trip.  We combined a cheap flight to Vegas with a road trip to Southern California, to put our feet in the ocean in 2016.

Our hours driving through the desert did the trick to strip us down, of something.  There aren't many variables in the desert.  But lots of raw beauty.  The earth sits so still and dry, conserving all its energy, while this band of highway cuts through, cars and trucks speeding with abandon.   At a rest stop, Will and John kicked the soccer ball, the only kinetic energy around, while locals sat and watched.  We left food for someone there who's mind had left her, but she had much to say.  I wonder how she survives.  

Bits of color create such contrast.  The blue sky gets the glory, but at one point, we saw a row of bright balloons, lined up like tourists beside the train tracks.  They stood witness to all the traffic, foreground to the desert scene.  Hours later, my family lined up in just the same fashion on the beach, witnessing the awe of the ocean.  Bobbing beings, looking out on a stark landscape of sand and sea and sky.  

In Their Hands

Currently, at my household, there is a serious nail-biting habit.  Every time I look, someone is furiously chewing at whatever is left of their fingers.  I try to hold their hands a lot.  Those hands, so engaged with the world.

Stardust in Paper Bags

June and some friends are spreading stardust around town, in the form of paper bags filled with gifts for the homeless.

One parent gathered toiletries from generous dentists and hotels.  Others contributed food and drinks.  The girls took paint to the bags, with words and art.  

Despite all this goodness, I worried about our words.  The words written on the bags, and the tenuous connection between young privileged white girls and people without food or shelter.

The girls wrote:

Believe in Your Dreams
Today Will be a Good Day
Thank Happy Be Happy
It's Always Too Early to Give Up
Live Love Laugh
May Your Day Be Happy

But why focus on the weight of our differences?  We can all embrace these thoughts.  Why anticipate resentment?  Why overthink it?  The kids sure didn't.

Again, I am wiser to think like a child.

                          

                         

A Coop in the Dark

After years of trying to set routines and create predictability for my kids (to a questionable degree of success), I am now trying to open up to the opposite.  Our habits and our noise sure give a me sense of security, but what I value now is energy.  And bravery.  To meet our days, and to break out of safe spaces.

So if June and I have the energy to paint a chicken coop in the dark, then great.  A bedtime routine, and darkness, need not stand in the way.  Tonight, it's the coop.  Tomorrow, hopefully we will look beyond our back yard.

Welcome That

Welcome that.  I haven’t written here with that spirit in mind in a long time.  I continue to reach for the feeling, though, to welcome things that come with growing children, new challenges, new conflicts, life's responsibilities.

But today, I cannot find gratitude for Hilliary’s loss, or for Trump’s “victory.”  No “well this can be good because….”  Gratitude for the elevation of racism, sexism, violence, the abuse of our planet? 

No.  Today, here is what I welcome:

Hillary's speech.  The words of a heart-wrenching champion.  

Tears of parents at my school who care so much.

Friends who, after a day of mourning, will mobilize and inspire.

The chance to feed chickens, a dog, a cat, and horses next door.

The soft morning faces of my children.

Teachers whom I trust.

A loving family, husband, sister, and mother.

Forever, the sun, the sky, the mountains and the trees.

Today, I am breaking open to find the space to welcome.  Tomorrow I will plant bulbs, and a manifesto with motivated friends.  No more complacency.  No more missing chances.  We have to love and love and love.  Plant seeds for our children and love.