A Still Life

The big week is finally here, and our countdown calendars have few days left while the wreath has only one remaining candle to light. The glee from my eldest is contagious! As always, my children have me noticing all that is around me. When I get too wrapped up in my words and thoughts on the hope and peace and joy and love of this season, my children remind me to simply be in it; live it.

The train comes around again and again and again!

Taking a break just to watch the water.

Trains and flowers and fairy houses, oh my.

Like her mommy, The Girl is tolerating the cold with an eye for warmer days.

But the Boy has big plans for three months of snowball fights.

I was doing really well. I was walking regularly and had even added pilates on the days I didn’t walk. Then the first colds of Autumn hit, then the weather changed, then we got another round of colds, then an unexpected family illness pulled me out-of-town for a week, and I have completely lost my balance. This morning I feel clear-headed and am noting sources of inspiration to regain footing.  One tweak will be the Christmas gift of a gym membership, but the other tweak is making nice with my kitchen again.

I’ve been really inspired by this blog since she first started writing, particularly her comments this week about wisdom and wholeness. And I mentioned yesterday watching the film How To Cook Your Life about the Zen chef Edward Espe Brown who teaches people to embrace their daily movements in the kitchen as spiritual practice. “Treat your food as though it was your eyesight,” goes the kitchen chant. His thoughts are not new to me, but the film was kind of like shining a light on the parts of my life that need a little tune-up. Rather than throwing my arms up and waiting for Spring’s warm weather to get things back on track, I’ll refresh it right now…snow on the ground and all.

Then I was reminded of this photographer’s work documenting refrigerators. I wonder sometimes what a snapshot of my fridge says about my week. On weeks that I am too hurried in one part of my life, my fridge reflects that. I haven’t baked bread in over a month. I haven’t bought a fresh vegetable (other than onions and peppers) in weeks, though we’ve used frozen veggies. We are eating lots of pasta, soup, and grilled cheese sandwiches. Though there are plenty of entirely legitimate excuses for faster cooking and less time in the kitchen, it’s simply not a life I want to sustain day-in-and-day-out. So I see that I’m out of balance (perhaps our constant low-level illness is speaking to that imbalance) and I’m cleaning out and starting over. Maybe I’ll even brave some before and after pics!

If you’re a Netflix subscriber, you can add How To Cook Your Life to your queue. To get a taste of things, however, watch this:

As I mentioned recently, I am not spending as much time on meals lately. The last really good cooking/baking day I had was our Black Friday Thanksgiving meal. Otherwise, we’re eating very simple meals that take under 30 minutes from start-to-finish. Today, I’ve moved my stack of three years of November/December Southern Living, Bon Appetit, Food & Wine, and Martha Stewart LIVING magazines to the side table in our living room in hopes of actually thumbing through for daily inspiration as well as party food ideas.

But on a day like to day, our first generous snow flurry of the season, I find myself drawn to recipes that don’t build a meal at all. My growing list does not require a trip to our favorite shop for local veggies and eggs, though last night’s viewing of How To Cook Your Life did help restore some cooking energy. No, my list is all in the baking category:

This gingerbread has been on my list for a couple of weeks, and the ingredients have been in the house for almost as long. Perhaps today is the day.

Then there’s this dreamy apple-rosemary tart that knocked my socks off at a fantastic celebration just over a week ago. I almost made it last night, but the darling dear and I decided to watch other people cook instead. And The Boy just walked through the living room eating one of my honeycrisps…so this one waits.

And finally, we have the molasses cookies I’ve been eyeing. At that same celebration, our hostess made button-sized molasses cookies, and I keep thinking about those great flavors. I like the large cookies by Framed, and it’s one of the only recipes I’ve come across that doesn’t call for shortening. They won’t be the soft little bites I tasted last week, but I suspect they will be delightful.

Where should I begin?

I’m in the editing phase of tomorrow’s sermon and simply cannot make room to include these lovely words. When I’m first gathering thoughts, I start dropping quotes and ideas and phrases or images, poems, and passages into a file for later processing. This lovely wasn’t meant for tomorrow’s message, but it is still powerful and beautiful on its own. Enjoy.

When despair for the world grows in me
 and I wake in the night at the least sound
 in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
 I go and lie down where the wood drake 
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. 
I come into the peace of wild things 
who do not tax their lives with forethought
 of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
 And I feel above me the day-blind stars 
waiting with their light. For a time
 I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

— Wendell Berry

I’m in the process of switching from an old Mac to a new Mac (boo-hoo me, right?) and haven’t gotten photos and files straightened out yet to resume my technological life. And I’m still in the process of switching from a full-on SAHM life to a working-plus-home momming life, and there are some kinks to work our there as well. And somehow I’ve gotten multiple emails or voicemails from smart, creative, talented minister-mamas who want to talk about balancing their mothering lives with their ministering lives. Sometimes there is even an assumption that I may have figured out a thing or two and can speak to a life that is balanced and thriving.

Oh, my.

So it was pure joy today to sit and catch up on my RSS blog backlog (it’s on the old Mac and was up to 130-something) and find this post from Meg at Whatever. Fun blog, super fab mom, amazing family, seems like somebody I’d like to know. (I found her blog because of her margarita recipe.) She starts this great post with these words:

i want you to know…
that i don’t have it all together.
or get it all done.

And then she posts photos of room after room of a real, lived in home. If there’s one part of my life that’s consistently on the FAIL list, it’s keeping a tidy home. I think I was (good) better at it for a little while (like when I was so zen about washing dishes), but then The Girl went from being an active baby to a super-active toddler. And somewhere in there I started teaching and preaching more, then I took on the dreamy part-time job. Being one who firmly believes you cannot hold all things at all times, I suppose I’ve released not only some of the house tidying but the good food cooking, too. *Long sigh.*

I want you to know…

I do not have it all together.
I do not get it all done.
I sometimes feed my kids pure junk while simultaneously remainning principled about why it’s junk.
I don’t do life alone. I have an amazing partner who is a tender, present father, remarkable friend, and loving man.
I have somehow (stumbled, dumb-lucked, fallen backwards into) been gifted with circles of stunning, beautiful, wise friends.
I am deep down to my toes and back happy, even when the house looks like we’ve been robbed and the fridge looks like we eat ketchup and turkey carcass. (Hey, it’s a Polyface, pastured-turkey carcass, thankyouverymuch.)
I have to remind myself to take a deep breath…slowly, deliberately, steadily exhale…and be gentle with myself.
It feels good to tell the truth about my life. (Go watch the video that everyone’s blogging about: Brene Brown via TED.)
I wonder how you seem to carry it all so well, too.

Marking time as a family means evolving traditions and habits. We’re lighting candles, opening doors, telling the story, moving shepherds and magi around like action figures, hanging stars, and tying bows. These are all waiting ways, and each is lovely.