energy

Sun. Warmth, joy, light.

Stormy clouds move in, and swift

the wind whips. Rain beats fast,

then slower until the storm lifts.

What is the sky but a mirror?

The clouds circling, full of energy,

or a clear blue and calm.

From cold torrent to dog days lethargy

We expect sunshine, shame the storm.

Yet both are needed for growth in truth.

I see my soul in the darkened clouds.

Today's storm with yield summer's fruit.

I was obsessed with the sky on Thursday. I love the view of the valley as I drive Katie to school and the effect the sky had on the entire valley had me entranced. It was cloudy on the east side, but the mountains on the west were all aglow in the sunshine. My view of downtown also had it lit up. When I went back to get Katie the sun was trying to force its way through the clouds and I put on my sunglasses. But as I turned around and headed back home, the buildings of downtown were shrouded in darkness from ominous storm clouds above. Next thing I knew, the lights flickered on and off in our house, thunder and lightening began, and we got a downpour of snow. We got about 3 fresh inches. The sun struggled with the clouds all afternoon and it finally won just in time for sunset. The sky was a lovely pink and all was calm.

Dave says I have a "swirly brain." Boy, is it ever swirly lately. I can't concentrate on mundane tasks, so I fill my time with things that mimic the thrill of mental and social engagement, without the actual satisfaction - word games, social media, dollar bin shopping at Target, looking at house plans or houses for sale in random locations, etc.  I finish feeling just as empty. What I need is an Endeavor. A quantifiable goal that engages and satisfies my mind. Something that uses all this pent up energy and channels it into something worthwhile. I am like a fidgety child who needs to run wild a little bit every day so that I can return to my tasks with renewed focus and energy.

The sky reminded me of that this week.

how did she get so big?

(Ana's first day of first grade.)

days run together

early mornings. breakfast. dishes.

a trip to the park.

white dandelion wishes.



deep breaths. repetition.

always serving another.

children play and whine.

"be kind to your brother."


or "No screaming."

said a thousand times.

playing dolls and cars.

singing nursery rhymes.


waiting til 5:00.

daaddy's home! then dinner.

Race up the stairs!

See who is the winner.


Bedtime stories and snuggles.

and one last song.

the days run together.

the days are long.


cooler days.

the leaves, then snow fall.

tulips bloom. summer sun.

suddenly, leaves change and fall.


another year gone again.

load the bus. shed a few tears.

long may be the days.

but short are the years.

...before i sleep

Jack, Ana, and Ethan (Ana's fiancee)

Wow, time is flying by. I suppose I haven't been writing as much the last little while. Life is busy with 3 little kids at home, plus 1 extra a few days a week. I feel like we have been living in our swimsuits this month. The kids have had swim lessons and we've spent lots of time at the beach, the pool and playing in the sprinklers in the yard. I love it! But I keep forgetting to pull out the camera.

My thoughts are heavy the last few months, and I mostly keep it to myself. My eyes have been opened to the hurt and hardships of so many that I love, and I am reminded of a quote from The Lord of the Rings (the book): "The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands Love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater."

In an effort to lighten my thoughts, I've been reading more poetry. Currently I have "Stopping By the Woods on a Snowy Evening" hanging above my sink to memorize while I wash dishes. I find it rather metaphorical for life right now. Whenever I have a busy day and my seemingly endless to-do list comes swirling through my mind, the last line pops into my head "... and miles to go before I sleep." I try to stop each day for a minute, "to watch [the] woods fill up with snow." Whether that be in quiet, solitary time for myself, or pausing to find joy and beauty and peace in my life and children.


Stopping By the Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

attached

(photo taken by our good friends the Moreys)

Katie is not a good sleeper. Her naps have always been irregular, and she still wakes up once or twice most nights. I can only get her to sleep by nursing her. How I got myself into this predicament, I'm not sure. It all happened so quickly. Other people can rock her or hold her and she'll drift off, but not Mama. She knows what she wants. I'll probably be nursing until she's 3 or something.

On hot days like today, she doesn't settle down easily, though, even nursing her. She turns and twists and babbles and kicks - all while very firmly latched. Not at all comfortable. And then these words come to mind.


Blood and Milk
by Sharlee Mullins Glenn

I dreamed of Oxford . . .
(spires, a thousand spires, endless lectures, musty halls
a solitary self in a Bodleian expanse
A good life my dear Wormwood. An orderly life.)

then awakened to laundry
and things to be wiped
countertops, noses, bottoms

How did this happen? And when, exactly?
Time flows, it flows, it flows
and there are choices to be made:

left or right?
paper or plastic?
blood or milk?

There's freedom in the bleeding;
bondage in the milk—do not be deceived.
Ah, but it's an empty freedom; a holy bondage,
A sweet and holy bondage.
Five times I chose the chains, those tender chains,
(though once will bind you just as well!)
and checked the crimson flow.
Suckled while dreaming of Trinity Term
but awakened, always awakened, to the laundry
and to that small and cherished captor at my breast.

-From Segullah

Motherhood is a Holy Bondage. And I am quite attached.

a poem

My children's actions inspired an impromptu poem from me today:

Do we draw on tables?
Do we draw on walls?
Do we draw on the floor?
Do we draw on balls?

Do we draw on toys?
Do we draw on beds?
Do we draw on faces?
Do we draw on heads?

Do we draw on paper?
Yes, that is where we draw!
We draw on paper,
or we don't draw at all.

(Please, do not copy my work. I know this poem will be cherished for generations. Be sure to give me credit for it!)

life has changed

I used to sing great arias.
Now I'm humming a lullaby tune
I used to read "The Great Books"
Now I'm reading "Goodnight, Moon."

I used to hike up mountains.
Now I'm chasing toddler feet.
I use to go out on Friday night.
Now I'm rocking a baby to sleep.

I used to want to see the world
and travel to far off lands.
Now I'm kissing tear-streaked cheeks
and washing dirty hands.

My fingertips once were trimmed
and polished perfectly.
Now they are calloused and rough,
but it doesn't bother me.

For all the things I used to do
have fallen all away.
But I'd trade them all forever
for my babies every day.

- Erin Larsen
October 26, 2009