12 Days of Thanksgiving: DAY FIVE

I’m beginning to get excited about Thanksgiving week! This year we’re forming a new tradition. I don’t know if it will stick, but it harkens back to Thanksgiving holidays I remember from my childhood.

This year, my kids and I are spending a week at our family farm for Thanksgiving. Little Drummer Boy is out of school for a week. Bug and Baby Girl’s preschool is closed for half the week, and I’ve already mentioned the blessing of working in a way that allows me to go mobile and cater my work schedule to the needs of the rest of my life.

The plans began in October when we were there for a weekend to celebrate my birthday. Actually I guess they began several weeks before that when I was fielding nightly questions about when we were going to “the farm.” The birthday weekend trip which we call the “Busy Bee Birthday Bonfire Bash” (you can thank my mother for the alliteration) has gained quite a following with the boys. They are old enough to recognize that it’s a tradition and that there’s a red wagon at the farm to pull or ride in. And a tractor and pastures and gravel roads to walk and a gazillion rocks and leaves and the occasional lizard to explore. They are old enough to remember last year’s bonfire which cooked our hot dogs and s’mores. After this year’s shindig, I think Baby Girl has formed her own memories now. At least she’s formed her own ability to ask for the umpteenth time when we’re going back.

So, we’re going back to the farm for Thanksgiving. It’s the first time I’ve spent the holiday there since I was in high school. The place has many memories for me. Many moments that seem to ground my life. My mom grew up there. My dad farmed there. My grandparents lived there. None of that is happening anymore, but the power of the place for me hasn’t changed. I spent many weekends there and somehow had the concepts of family and fun and celebrations and holidays and living better sewn into my fabric there.

It’s different for my kids. They have their own grandparent’s house to visit. For them, no one lives at the farm. There aren’t as many cows or people driving by. We’re not there every weekend. For LDB, Bug and Baby Girl, it seems to exist just for them. To wait for their arrival. Which it kind of does. And which it maybe did for me in a way.

The farm at Thanksgiving was a tradition for me. An old one. One that was a tradition for my mother and my grandmother. This year, that tradition becomes new for MY sons and daughter. And I think that’s pretty amazing. More amazing is the thought that this year’s new tradition wasn’t my idea. It was Little Drummer Boy’s. It was his heartfelt desire to stay longer during our weekend visit last month that prompted his eager suggestion that we should come back for Thanksgiving. And it was all our collective recognition that this place has a new meaning for a new generation that allows us do this holiday thing differently this year.

I’m sure next week along about Day 10 or 11 I’ll have a bonafide “things I’m thankful for” list to share from the farm. Today it’s the anticipation of fresh air, contagious giggles, concentrated time with my sweet kiddos and the opportunity to make old traditions new. It’s the chance to weave some of the farm into THEIR fabric.

12 Days of Thanksgiving: DAY FOUR

Boy, I woke up crabby this morning. It happens to the best of us, and this morning was mine. This whole week, really. I mentioned at the beginning of the week that I’m running on empty. I am, and I think the tiredness, hectic schedule and constant brain motion are starting to leak.

This morning, everyone was moving too slow. Everyone was too loud. Or too quiet. Everyone was was getting their pants dirty or their crumbs on the floor. You’ll notice that none of the MOMMY’s actions were highlighted in this scenario. Yes, I tried to temper my language and my tone, and not many of those indictments actually left my mouth. Still, my thoughts were filled with total crabbiness — impatience, fatigue and annoyance all balled into one bad attitude. To top it off, it was raining. Rain in the morning means I get wet several times while shuffling the gang to their respective school rooms before I even get a chance to sit down for work.

Get out the horns and confetti, I was scheduling a pity party!

Then, it happened. As it always does. One of those sweet little ones I call my own says something that completely takes me off guard. A statement that lets me question who’s really teaching who in this whole parenting thing. This time is was Bug.

“The sky is sparkling!”

I was buckling him into his booster seat to go to preschool. He was talking about this and that. (Bug always has a tall tale brewing.) Then he stopped mid-sentence and came out with “the sky is sparkling.”

The sky I was looking at was dappled with clouds and raindrops. It was sluggish at best with only a hint there might be sunshine somewhere in the forecast. For him, it was sparkling! It made me smile. It made me shake my head. At myself. It made me giggle. And stop. Overwhelmed by the sheer amazing experience of knowing these three little hearts. It made me tell him, “I think YOU are sparkling!” That gave him a turn to giggle. And give me that look like “mommies say the darnedest things.”

Consider my view shifted. This life is filled with sparkle. If I’m willing to see it. To be blinded by it.

Guess what? Life happens. To everyone. Lack of sleep, crabbiness and all. It happens. Thank God. Way too many projects scheduled for work today. Too few hours of sleep. The pressure to fit everything in. Kid programs and parties and special lunches all requiring my attention. A brain filled with so many details I’m certain it will burst and lose them all. All that busy-ness. Each moment seemingly filled with something. But it’s filled! It’s evidence of fullness. Of blessing. Of the the incredible value of each child (and client) requiring my attention. It is blessing. If I choose to see it as such. If I choose to be blinded by it.

We all have a saturation point. We all have the burden of ensuring that our own commitments reflect the value we really want to glean in life. But, today I’m thankful for the reminder that busy-ness is reflective of blessing. This busy-ness comes from an effort to give everything I can to make these experiences meaningful. To go the extra mile to be there. To be present and accounted for in this quickly fleeting season. And as I weed through a list of tasks and commitments that perhaps can’t all be done, this reminder gives me the ammunition I need to choose. To determine what will sow the most blessing. The most sparkle.

12 Days of Thanksgiving: DAY THREE

The Program was today. I just spent some time at Bug and Baby Girl’s preschool for the annual Thanksgiving Program and lunch. It was fun times with a cute little turkey and a very handsome pilgrim. We brought our own turkeys made out of Oreos and a plate of cheese slices to contribute to the sandwiches of the crowd. They smiled and waved. They sang. They clapped and touched their head, shoulders, knees and toes. They were happy. And they knew it. It was all the unexpected silliness you would expect from a preschool program.

It took two hours of what was an already busy day if you include the assembling of the cheese plate and the gas that had to be purchased before I could get the van home. I walked back into my office to a piled up desk and an iPad app full of tasks waiting to be checked off. Still, although I may feel a little stretched with this week’s schedule, I just know those were two of the best hours I could spend today.

Yes, I received all the standard reminders of Thanksgiving at The Program. The blessing of the holiday. The food we could partake. The sweet faces and infectious smiles. But this year I was also reminded of what a blessing it is for me to have the freedom to do all the things that seem to be required of Mommies during the holidays.

A year and a half ago when I learned that the company I had worked with for 16 years would be closing, that freedom wasn’t on my radar. I didn’t really have a moment of panic then (I think that came later), but it did seem like a setback. Some limitation (what felt like another limitation) I would need to scrape through. A financial strain. An emotional strain. A colossal change in my normal.

As it turned out, I really didn’t have much time to ponder the limitations. In the same breath she told me she was retiring, my boss/friend/mentor said “you need to start your own design business.” And she proceeded to articulate several ways she thought I would succeed. Wow! It was a new thought to me. The short story is that I did just that, and I was right. It WAS a colossal change in my norm — a change I am now so grateful is my new normal.

Although I could barely imagine it at the time, this experiment of a new business and the decision to work from my home has been a Godsend. It’s given me the opportunity to be that Mom I wanted to be. I wanted to be the Mom who could go on the field trip or organize the party or knock off the afternoon early for snow cones. I’ve also come to enjoy the freedom to cultivate my own mix of design services, consulting strategies and writing skills I can offer to clients. I relish the chance to hone my own commitments into those that most closely resemble my ideal. I love making the determination to give away my time to some of the clients if I feel it’s right. And when it comes right down to the bottom line, I’m so grateful for this chance to provide for my kids in a way I probably wouldn’t have been able to in my previous work situation.

As I look around this office I’ve organized and adorned with design books, color chips, kid drawings and throw pillows, I find that I wouldn’t have my normal any other way. What a blessing to be able to spend my days enjoying tasks and the place I have to do them! What a blessing to be able to lay them aside for two hours to devote that time to what matches with my own priorities — my only responsibility and accountability being the things that matter most to me in work and life. Life is too short to settle for less than that.

Today, full on kid songs and Oreos and burgeoning project tasks, I’m so thankful for the realization that what seemed like a step backward actually brought me right were I want to be. Funny how that happens.

12 Days of Thanksgiving: DAY TWO

Yesterday I spent some time with my little ones outside again. I love the magic that fresh air often provides to our spirits. We’ve been working on a project this year in the back yard. For me, it’s a project to transform the back yard into the back garden. That distinction is lost on the kids, of course. They are simply enjoying the opportunity to dig in new dirt. I’m enjoying the opportunity to reclaim something.

I call it “the pile.” The back corner of my property had been left as a growing debris pile for many years — the place where unwanted plants, dirt, clippings, and limbs were all left to decay. As “the pile” grew, it had become an eyesore. The huge display of rotting and drying vegetation had begun to take over the yard, the view and my enthusiasm. In my mind “the pile” had become a symbol of growing frustration with other areas of my life I felt had been neglected and left to dry up and wither. Areas that seemed to be taking over and squelching my vitality.

Beyond that, “the pile” had become shameful to me. It was ugly. It was unkept. It was irresponsible. It was intimidating. It represented my own resistance to stand up and cultivate the life of significance I really want.

I’m writing in past tense. It WAS. Back in the Spring, I decided to tackle “the pile” and operation reclamation began. I hired someone to come and haul the pile away leaving bare ground. Slowly (with the help of my Mom and the cheers of my kids) I’ve thought through that plot of earth’s possibilities. I’ve marked off areas for plantings. We’ve pruned and cleared unwanted plants. We planted azaleas and tea olive shrubs. We added a wooden swing. With great excitement, we hauled in a funky shaped playhouse for Baby Girl’s birthday. We even added a few plants around its little stoop.

All the while, we’ve been giggling. We’ve been digging. We’ve been getting muddy. We’ve been working. We’ve been planning and imagining. We’ve been ENJOYING that space. We’ve been LIVING in that space.

Yesterday, we put out seed in that space. We bought the rye seed. We stood amazed at how tiny they were. We dumped them into the seed spreader and we rolled them out into that reclaimed earth.

As I think about Thanksgiving and the recognition of bounty it provides, I can’t help but be reminded about the power of sowing seeds. About the need to clear ground before new growth can occur. About the joy and confidence that comes from reclaiming what has been squelched. About the reminder that spaces must be empty before they can be filled. Bit by bit, step by step, cultivating is inspiring. In all its messy stages. It’s admirable. It’s worthy of gratitude for each foothold that is gained.

It’s so easy to focus attention on where we are NOT in this journey of living. It’s so easy to give credence to the place we haven’t yet reached. It’s so easy to discount the necessary small (and big) steps it takes to get there. I’m so thankful for “the pile’s” tangible reminder that green grass — the grass I can’t see now — begins with removing dead branches. It begins with determining that something must be cleared if I am to gain NEW ground. I’m thankful for the reminder that preparing the earth is a necessary step in enjoying bounty.

DAY ONE

Today is Sunday — the one that’s a week and a half before Thanksgiving. If I’m going to commit to the Eyejunkie 4th Annual 12 Days of Thanksgiving posting series, today is the day to begin. I woke up thinking that this morning.

Fourth annual. I can hardly believe it’s correct to even write that. Yet, it is. It’s hard for me to believe that I’ve been writing this blog long enough to have a 4th annual anything. But, I guess I have. As I’ve glanced through the  12 Days themes of year one, year two and year three, it’s easy for me to see the changes in my own life — my own heart — as portrayed through this odd little record. It’s easy to see the constant aspects as well.

I’ve spent the last week trying to decide if I really wanted to bite off the daily morsel of a 12-day writing commitment this year. On Friday at the end of a long (and somewhat busy) week, I was feeling the pressure of many things. One of those things was the choice of writing about Thanksgiving for twelve days. The choice of thinking about thanksgiving for twelve days, in addition to everything else that seems to be enveloping my mind. To say it was daunting at that moment is an understatement. Honestly, I really couldn’t imagine how I would do it.

“My life is so empty right now.”

Ha! I actually had that thought. As I sit here taking a rest from the morning playing with Little Drummer Boy, Bug and Baby Girl, I know that statement doesn’t even approach the truth. I mean, not even close. Yet, I thought it. And although I knew the folly of it almost before I articulated it in my mind’s voice, still there was some element of the statement I had to consciously admit and explore.

My life is not empty. But, at least at that moment, my spirit was. My gumption was. My joy meter. My energy level.

It happens sometimes. There is something about life that squeezes us out — even if we don’t mean to get wrung. Sometimes it’s the reality of grabbing everything we can from an experience. Sometimes it’s the reality of scraping the bottom of the barrel to claim at least something from an experience. Sometimes it’s the reality of carving out time and energy and brain space from a multitude of activity to believe we are actually having an experience at all — a life. And, whatever combination of those realities had materialized in my thinking over the last few weeks, the result manifested itself as a sincere and credible feeling of emptiness.

The great chasm between empty and bounty doesn’t really have alot to do with how much is in the refrigerator or the closet or the project list. In my limited experience, it doesn’t have much to do with the bottom line or the season’s record or whatever other tangible poll standings my thoughts may try to calculate.

No, if the last three years of 12-day thanksgiving experiments holds true, the transition from empty to bounty has nothing to do with those things. And everything to do with perspective. An internal perspective, a way of seeing and interpreting that leaves us bursting rather than wanting.

About two seconds after the fateful thought of “my life is so empty” crossed my consciousness, I knew. I knew I was in serious need of a perspective adjustment. There is a certain misery that I imagine results from spending a life running on empty. I believe the joy of gratitude is just the jump start needed to shift the balance. My own experience can testify that the giving of thanks is a heart and mind readjustment. It can provide a recognition that enables me to draw my living from overflow rather than from scarcity. Life DOES overflow. MY life overflows. My life is full of many precious things and people and experiences. I don’t want to claim “living” from any other perspective.

So, the 12-day experiment in the power of gratitude begins again. A journey from empty to bounty. Join me.