Watching You

I've watched you.

You smoothing tablecloths across MOPS tables with your kids latched on to a leg or perched on your right hip. You carrying egg bakes in one hand and round-faced, red-cheeked toddlers in the other, welcoming new moms with warm smiles.

Photo Credit:Flickr user Elvis Kennedy, under permission of Creative Commons cc license

I've watched you in church hallways, in doctor's offices, in YMCA lobbies, and in homes full of loved ones. You as you stare deep into the fridge and whip up a meal from what's there for your hungry crew. You who trade words in gentle authoritative reply to your growing willowy kids' attitude. You who smooth small foreheads and care for older parents, who help with homework, and who tame a wild home.

Sleeting ice balls pelt the dark bedroom windows one morning this week, waking us before six a.m. slumber pulled us under again.

Snow flakes fall silently later as Daniel and I sound out phonics and read stories of dogs and bugs and logs. All week, we've slipped across frozen boot-treads in the ice that look like trilobites in the driveway.

After the joy of meeting moms at Waconia MOPS January 27th, at Sauk Rapids Moms-Next on February 2nd, Woodbury Lutheran Church MOPS on February 6th, and Salem Covenant Church MOPS Friday, I relished times at home with my family too.

Daniel sniffed. Blowing his nose into a white and blue handkerchief, he pulled the math book closer. At the sunny cherrywood table, I stretched legs out and sipped hot coffee.

Oily pots stacked high in the sink behind me. Yellow curried bowls stood in cock-eyed slant, resting one on top the other, shifting dangerously atop four plates. A metal cookie sheet took up most of the counter, and silverware splayed out greasy. Whew. Life can pile up so quickly, huh?

I turned my back on the kitchen, though, lifted coffee to my lips again and rubbed Daniel's tiny shoulders.

"It's nice to be back by you, bud. I'm glad to be home."

Mom, dads, grandmas, grandpas, friends? Your presence matters.

I know the dishes and laundry are piling up. (Don't even ask about the black swimsuit bottoms that doubled as underwear this week. The skinny black bows bulged under each jean hip pocket.)

For now, snuggle in. Take a moment longer, listen a few minutes more to the complicated Lego story  by the breathless boy beside you. Stop all else. Lean in. Savor.

When the snow stopped, school was done and Daniel was playing in another room. Clearing the sink, I lifted the metal faucet and hot water swirled in steaming. Bubbles shone iridescent. Music pulsed behind me, and I scrubbed, wiped, and restored order to my counters and kitchen.

Beef stew bubbled nearby, carrots and onions tumbling past celery. Turning it to simmer, I stole up behind my man and wrapped arms around his neck. Heads touching, we stood quiet, his face warm against mine.

"Thank you, God, for these people in my life, for moments to pause and see. Thank you for the beauty of watching people in all seasons of life lift and love, smooth and savor, bend and bring order." 

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Making Spring Break Work for Every Family, on Every Budget

Photo courtesy of Hasitha Tudagalle, Creative Commons, cc license

From downstairs come the happy hum of voices and the tinkle of Legos being fingered and raked through. My college-age son is home on spring break and my younger two children are thrilled to see him. In between frequent outings with friends, he is nonetheless being intentional about time with his siblings. John and five year old Daniel build Lego castles, line up archery figurine battles, and talk long over red, blue, and yellow plastic bricks.

My high school daughter plans homework sessions around her big brother's work schedule, choosing to take her spring break this week too while he is home. They go on an ice cream date, talk for hours downstairs, and shriek with laughter far into the night.

Today we lingered in the kitchen and dining room, my man-son hopping up to sit on the counter, sprawling huge across my cupboards as I sipped coffee and turned pages in my Bible. At the table, my lanky daughter spread out her art pads and pencils, holding up a white eraser to show her little brother. Daniel pulled out his watercolor paints and some scratch paper, while I rounded up water in a plastic bowl. I clicked on Vivaldi's Summer, and we stopped to stare out the deck window at the melting snow, the blue sky, and a swooping black bird that perched on a pine across the yard. Time slowed, and we breathed in deeply. Rest and calm sank into us, and our shoulders dropped comfortably. Chairs scraped, and violins crescendo-ed as conversation resumed.

My husband and I are enjoying this day off work today too, and are savoring this time as a family. In between various side tasks, we stop to cuddle, closing our eyes, and leaning in for a long hug. Later on this week, there are plans for family games, some computer network gaming, and other casual pursuits. And for my husband and I, life resumes its normal work and carpool schedule tomorrow.

But in between, our family is planning to savor each moment together. Whether it is just curling up on the couch to watch a mystery together, or learning how to cook a new Asian noodle dinner, or playing eight rounds of Uno, we plan to slow the clock, to breathe in deeply, and let that rest and calm sink in.

Spring breaks don't need to be expensive or long. While summery beaches are always appealing to me, some years a break from school and normal life can be crafted just as simply by choosing to intentionally slow down one's pace. What speaks calm to you? What brings family togetherness? Choosing to sleep in late, to linger over coffee, and to lean into family moments can bring long-term renewal and peace on any budget. Plus they can be savored much more than just one week a year!

What does a relaxing day at home look like for you? (I love hearing from you. Those in email can click here to join the conversation.)

Balancing Work and Home: Making Every Moment Count

Stepping outdoors, the heat hit my face, and I sucked in air greedily. One of my favorite scents is the fragrance of hot wet soil and asphalt steaming in the sun after a rain. Sand ripples, eroded by flash rain, strata-ed the edges of the road, and a red fire hydrant gleamed newly-polished from the storm.

I inhaled deeply as I walked, my work bag swinging on one shoulder. For a moment, I rustled in my bag for the phone, then stopped. Resisting the impulse to call or text, I instead stretched my shoulders, dropping and squaring them into a yoga pose, and breathed in deeply.

"Be here, Jen. Pause, breathe in. See God's beauty..."

I found my walk changing, and my focus following. Smiling, I debriefed from the day, grinning vaguely at passing cars and unseen neighbors, reviewing the week's duties. Water droplets glimmered deep within silvery spruce branches. A new song tickled the edges of my brain and I sang quietly under my breath. "May the Lord make your love increase and overflow for each other, and for everyone else..."

Sloshing through a muddy stretch, I wiped it off, grabbed my mail, and stepped inside, eager to see my family and kiss them.Thankful for my family, thankful for my job.

Hi, friend. I love hearing from you. What has your day been like? How do you transition from an outside job to home? (Those in email can click here to comment.) 

Linking with Emily at Imperfect Prose.

Photo credits: #1: "Nighttime in the Rain" by Debbie Lewis; #2: Street image courtesy of HinFrance ; #3: "Broad Street Rain" by Rick Reinert.

How Not to Lose this Summer that's Slipping By

Under a massive blue sky, mammoth cotton clouds slide shadows across the deck and my pink skin. Motorcycles hum, birds sing, and a hot wind buffets sweaty skin.

How do you make a summer stretch long? In between the jobs, park play dates, garage sale fundraisers, summer camp carpools, and youth missions trip details, how does a family make sure to savor and slow down?

He splashes happily on slick wood slats now, smacking a soaking wet towel against deck floorboards, physics and fun combined. "Mom, can I have some more water please? I dumped it all out." Wet Spiderman underwear on a skinny four year old body battles shadows on the deck, as I run cool water into the metal bowl again.

In between the jobs, the games, and the phone calls, will you take time with me this summer to slow down? Slit and nibble hot spinach leaves from a sandy garden. Dance angry on gopher mounds with me. Plot mole murders. Grill burgers, transplant raspberries, invite friends over for home-made iced tea, and slip into swimsuits, hidden away on the deck, to nap under cottony clouds.

How do you slow down time? F. Diane Barth, a licensed clinical social worker, in her article "Can We Slow Down Time?" references neuropsychologists to state that "our brains are wired not only to recognize increments of time but also to have a certain kind of elasticity around how long any particular experience seems to last."

So how do we slow down time, and feel more relaxed this summer? Here are four things that help me.

1.) Intentionally carve out time to relax. Don't fill the calendar too full, and say no to some events.

2.) Make sure to do something every day that brings you joy. Whether it is gardening, biking, sunbathing, writing, reading, or having a friend over, commit to plan that into your days and weeks.

3.) Be fully present in every event. Don't dash from one event to the next, but slow yourself to see the people beside you. Pause, listen, and be there. (This is hard for me some days.)

4.) Breathe deeply and slowly. It is scientifically-proven to slow down our muscles, heart rates, and emotions.

My four-year old? He's in from the deck now. Plastic spoons, a metal bowl, and crumpled wet clothes are the only reminders from the deck that he was there.The puddles and splashes have evaporated and dried already in the time it took to write this and run him a warm bath. He plays happily now in his room, and the afternoon turns to suppertime.