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.