In honor and celebration of today's date and the number nine, the following is my list of "Top 9 Simple Pleasures I Enjoy."
9. Biting into a fresh, crisp, ripe slice of apple...preferably one dipped in caramel.
8. Falling into the cool, crisp sheets of a freshly-made bed.
7. Sitting on my patio in the cool of the evening.
6. Harvesting veggies from my very own backyard garden.
5. Reading a really great book- you know, the kind of story that you never want to end!
4. Drinking the perfect cup of coffee.
3. Snuggling with my dog Baxter while watching a favorite show.
2. Talking and laughing with my girls.
1. Holding hands with my sweetie!
*"We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures."- Thornton Wilder
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Thursday, September 3, 2009
My Mother's Hands
Almost from the time a baby is born, family members will often try to determine which characteristics of the child should be attributed to what side of the family. "She has her mother's eyes." "He has his father's smile." "She's stubborn, just like Great Aunt Lulu." Over the years I have been told that I am a pretty even mix of my parents. Sometimes this is a compliment, other times it is a great source of frustration! There have been many mornings I have looked in the mirror and saw my mother's face looking back at me. Creepy!
Lately I have been thinking about one area of striking resemblance...I have my mother's hands. My fingers are a tad bit longer than hers were, otherwise they are very similar. Fingernails, knuckles, even the lines in my palms are almost the same. My mother passed away 18 years ago, but I can still vividly recall her hands.
When I was very young, my mother would entertain me during a long church service by drawing pictures for me on the back of the church bulletin. She would often start by drawing a house, complete with landscaping and puffs of smoke rising from the chimney. She would trace around my hand and then let me trace around hers. Then we would decorate our "hands" with elaborate jewelry and small pictures on the fingernails. I thought that my mom was the most wonderful artist in the whole world! She probably didn't give much thought to what she was doing. She was just happy I was being quiet during church.
I am now the age that my mother was when I was small. So when I look at my hands and see how they are ageing (sigh), I can see her hands in my mind's eye. I can picture how she filed her nails and put on lotion. I can also distinctly remember her hands anxiously clenched in her lap while riding with me when I was learning to drive!
Looking back now, I can really appreciate all that she did with her hands. Hands that cared for numerous children- changing diapers, wiping noses, caring for "owies," doing finger plays. Hands that made delicious meals and washed countless dishes. Hands that gestured wildly while she talked. Hands that wrote many letters to family and friends. Hands that cared for the sick and brought comfort to those in need. She wasn't perfect, but she did care a lot about people. I learned a lot about servanthood just by watching her serve her family, neighbors, and community. What a tremendous legacy!
Although I vowed as an angry adolescent that I would never be like my mother, I am quite pleased now to consider that I might share some of her attributes. In those moments when I miss her, I often look down at my own hands and think about all that her hands did for me. And then I wonder...are my hands helping others?
"For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me. Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?' The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for Me.'" Matthew 25: 35-40
Lately I have been thinking about one area of striking resemblance...I have my mother's hands. My fingers are a tad bit longer than hers were, otherwise they are very similar. Fingernails, knuckles, even the lines in my palms are almost the same. My mother passed away 18 years ago, but I can still vividly recall her hands.
When I was very young, my mother would entertain me during a long church service by drawing pictures for me on the back of the church bulletin. She would often start by drawing a house, complete with landscaping and puffs of smoke rising from the chimney. She would trace around my hand and then let me trace around hers. Then we would decorate our "hands" with elaborate jewelry and small pictures on the fingernails. I thought that my mom was the most wonderful artist in the whole world! She probably didn't give much thought to what she was doing. She was just happy I was being quiet during church.
I am now the age that my mother was when I was small. So when I look at my hands and see how they are ageing (sigh), I can see her hands in my mind's eye. I can picture how she filed her nails and put on lotion. I can also distinctly remember her hands anxiously clenched in her lap while riding with me when I was learning to drive!
Looking back now, I can really appreciate all that she did with her hands. Hands that cared for numerous children- changing diapers, wiping noses, caring for "owies," doing finger plays. Hands that made delicious meals and washed countless dishes. Hands that gestured wildly while she talked. Hands that wrote many letters to family and friends. Hands that cared for the sick and brought comfort to those in need. She wasn't perfect, but she did care a lot about people. I learned a lot about servanthood just by watching her serve her family, neighbors, and community. What a tremendous legacy!
Although I vowed as an angry adolescent that I would never be like my mother, I am quite pleased now to consider that I might share some of her attributes. In those moments when I miss her, I often look down at my own hands and think about all that her hands did for me. And then I wonder...are my hands helping others?
"For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me. Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?' The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for Me.'" Matthew 25: 35-40
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
The Simple Life
I didn't intend to have a complicated life. Honest. In fact, I thought that my life would be easier since I had been "downsized" from my job. Yet I found myself with an overcrowded calendar, a home bursting at the seams with "stuff," and an incredibly cranky family. Not to mention an incredibly cranky me! That old saying, "If mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy!" is so true. How did it all get so crazy?
Piano lessons, sports team practices and games, homework, church activities, music performances, parent-teacher organization meetings, my husband's overloaded schedule...on and on and on. Added to the chaos was the growing mountain of clutter in my home. Have you every noticed that when you are never at home, you never have time to clean? More stuff= more to clean, organize, put away, and maintain. At the end of the day I was exhausted, but didn't really feel productive. As my stress and anxiety levels began to rise, so did my blood pressure. My heart began to beat out the mantra, "slow down, slow down, slow down." But how?
I knew that I needed to simplify my life in order to preserve my sanity and my health. Moving to a cabin in the woods, cut off from civilization was tempting, but not practical. So I did what I always do when I need wisdom. I spent some time alone with God, praying and reading His Word. Quiet time has always been rejuvenating for me. Even soft music in the background is often too much noise when I am feeling overwhelmed. This is a mystery to my family who seem to enjoy having every electronic noise-producing device in the house operating all at the same time. But I digress... It was during this time of solitude that God directed me to Psalm 46:10 "Be still, and know that I am God." After meditating on this scripture for a few days, I committed to myself, and to my Father God that I would simplify my life and "be still." Stop worrying. Stop striving to please others. Refuse to equate busyness with productivity. Engage in mindful living, and give priority to those things that feed my soul. Instead of surviving, I would seek to enjoy each day that I am given.
I researched practical ways to improve time management. I read a book full of helpful hints on how to purge the clutter from my home. With the help of my sweet husband, we cleaned out the attic, the garage, every cupboard and every closet in the house. I reviewed the list of last year's activities with my kids and helped them make some tough choices about what they would pursue during this school year.
Is my life more simple now? In many ways, yes...but it's an ongoing process. Our culture invites us to live chaotic, complicated lives. I am easily distracted and need constant redirection to focus on my objectives. This blog developed out of my need to remind myself to slow down and really enjoy life. But I am slowly beginning to reap the benefits of simplifying. My blood pressure has gone down, I have less "stuff" to care for, and I am finding it easier to stay in the moment and appreciate life as it happens.
"It is the sweet, simple things of life which are the real ones after all." Laura Ingalls Wilder
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