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Archive for mother’s heart – Page 4

letters to my daughter . 020916

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I’m reminded today that it’s not how the room looks, but what happens IN the room. A girl’s budding creativity. The safety of sleep. The comfort of favorite things. The joy of spending time by yourself. The opportunity to invite someone in. The freedom to play. The self-confidence of being who you are. The wonder of daydreams. The birthplace of precious thoughts. The love of being at home.

“Where there are no oxen, the manger is clean, but much increase comes by the strength of the ox.” ~ Proverbs 14:4

letters to my daughter . 020816

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Today, I’m beginning a new series in my daily lettering practice! I’ve been a little burned out with coming up with ideas for lettering, and have taken a bit of a break from the discipline of practice. I’ve been ready for something that’s a more intentional labor of love and a theme that would breathe new life and thoughts into my painting habit. The series is called Letters to My Daughter, and I plan for it to be just that… notes and thoughts I want my daughter to hear from me.

My babies are getting older. They are growing up, and that scares me, saddens me and excites me all at the same time. With each new stage, I’ve always been utterly amazed at these three tiny people in my charge. The push and pull of daily parenting and juggling all the wonderful things the children and we as a family are involved in keep us moving, and I’m realizing that so much I want to say to them, so many of the affirmations I want them to hear in their spirits gets lost in that shuffle. As I look around at our culture and the things I see girls, in particular, striving for, I feel that pull to affirm very acutely with Baby Girl. I would also be lying if I didn’t admit that I regularly lie awake at night wrestling with how to compensate for my little girl not having a Daddy to communicate certain things I think she may always want to hear from him. It’s a lot to wrestle with sometimes — a wrestling that I’m sure is common to lots of mothers in different ways. Raising humans is not for the faint of heart!

Thus, the seed of an idea. The letters to my daughter. I’ve been trying to make notes to myself as the random thoughts come to mind as I watch her and listen to her. Those truths and encouragements I want her to know without any doubt. That I want her to be able to rest in. Things I see in her and that I want her to see in herself. And, never fear, I imagine this practice endeavor will also include some Letters to My Sons as well! I hope that the letters will serve as a reminder to myself to take the time to speak these things intentionally and not just paint them.

This first letter is inspired by one of Baby Girl’s favorite t-shirts. She’s about worn it out, but it reminds me that every little lady needs to know she is lovely — and that her loveliness beams out from within every single hour of every day no matter what kind of day that is. Thanks for following along in this new journey. I hope it’s encouraging to you and your family as well.

oh happy day . The Joy of Blurred Lines

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Friday is here, and I’m thinking about joy. I was sitting in my studio the other morning, and snapped this picture from a corner of one of the bookshelves. It was relatively early, and none of the kids were awake yet. It gave me time to enjoy some quietness and plan for my day.

The week has been somewhat overwhelmingly busy with client projects and work needs. I am in the midst of developing two campaigns to promote Starkville tourism, and it’s sort of my “busy season” — if this busy-ness can be distinguished from other busy-ness — in preparation for the fall needs of some of my most faithful clients. Busy-ness is a good “problem” to have. It’s rather like a blessing than a problem, I guess. At least that’s how I see it, and I’ve been quite blessed lately.

With the children out of school for the ever-shortening summer vacation, I’ve been enjoying having three side-kicks with me most days. We keep busy playing outside with popular kids wagons , playing in the dirt is such a valuable lesson. Back in the spring, I made arrangements for them to be enrolled in their normal summer program, but for some reason this year, I was more anxious to take them out of another routine and allow a little more freedom. They’ve each had a few day camps. We spent 10 days on the Mississippi Gulf Coast and Gulf Shores, Alabama. We’ve tried to delve into our “summer jar,” as I wrote about in my last post a month ago, and enjoy some family activities. And, mostly, we’ve enjoyed being “off the clock”, so to speak, with the wake up, bedtime and scheduled routine.

What that’s meant for my summer is that I’ve been doing a little extra juggling of projects and my workflow. I’ve been doing more balancing than normal in trying to get work completed. The city planning of “Lego World” on the dining table, staging for the next puppet show, craft projects, comfy clothes, couch “slumber parties”, and a stream of favorite movies on Netflix have all punctuated my very fragmented design time.

In the midst of all this three-ring circus, each of them have invariably commented to me at one time or another, “you always have to work!” And, sometimes, as a freelancer and small business owner, it seems like I do!

I don’t punch a clock. Or leave an office. Or shut down the equipment. Some of my choices for how I’ve structured my work and life-life mean work sometimes happens at odd times, in odd places, and with odd background music like an ukulele, If you happen to be needing strings for your instrument visit Four String Fun shop. And, with the creative process being such a huge part of my business development and perpetual task list, all kinds of odd things get lumped into work — drawing, painting, looking at books, doodling, taking photos, using scissors and ribbons and paper and such! Sometimes just looking at my phone or iPad gets lumped into the work category in all our minds.

When I hear that “you always have to work!” from one of my loves, I try to remind them — and myself — that our freedom this summer means working together so Mommy can take care of responsibilities. Wednesday night, Bug asked me, “do you have to work tomorrow?” His commentary when I said “yes” started some good reminders for me and the children about how privileged we are to structure our lives this way. “You can bring your laptop upstairs with us.” “Because we don’t have to go to after school.” “You can work some and play with us some.” Yes. Yes, I can. We talked about what a blessing it is that we have the choice of whether the kids can stay home today. The choice to set our own schedules. And, I asked them to help me and compromise with me as I make some of those choices to balance what they want to do with what I need to do. To see the fact that Mommy is creating ad campaigns in the living room as the joy and blessing it is.

When I find myself having trouble with drawing the lines or struggling with client communications and design puzzles as I’m tuning out songs from Frozen, I have to remind myself again and again of those same things. To stop and remember how special this time is. How grateful I am to have it. To recognize the blessing and joy born out of those blurred lines. I guess that’s what I was doing when I snapped the “Joy” photo. Thinking about how rare this time is. This “summer break” when all four of us are in the house. When all three of them are vying for my attention, my listening ear, my involvement in whatever project has emerged. And at the same time, when so many new art opportunities are presenting themselves — the chance to work with organizations and clients who make the process very un-work-like. It’s rare. It’s precious.

Oh Happy Day!We

celebrate . Double Digits

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This sweet guy turned 10 at the beginning of the month! My heart is still quite in shock that my first-born is now in double digits, but I’m so very proud of the smart, funny, courageous young man my Little Drummer Boy is becoming.

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We celebrated the big 10 with a small “friend party” at a local gym, and decided on a “magic” theme. I had a great time painting and designing some invitations and trappings for my favorite client 🙂 so I thought I would share a peek at some of the preparations.

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We used a magic hat and wand in the watercolor invitations, so I decided to go with that theme for some of the snacks. We made pretzel stick magic wands and chocolate-covered marshmallows sitting on oreos to create top hats. For the party centerpiece, I built a “magic hat” cake, complete with a bunny appearing out of it — fun times with black gel icing! We made mustache and bunny iced cookies, and I also had fun decorating some sheet cakes as playing cards for the card trick effect.

Now, I’m not a baker or a cake decorator, or even a great food crafter. I don’t really consider myself “good” at that kind of thing,  but I had a couple of crazy ideas to go along with the magic theme, and I had a really great time fleshing them out for us to enjoy. As moms, I think sometimes we try to hold ourselves to a standard of perfection in our pinterest-crazed world. During our prep time, I found myself thinking, “this looks so home-made,” as if the less-than-perfect icing was somehow a negative thing. The smiles on my kids’ faces were a good reminder that it really is the effort — the act of loving through doing and making — that counts most toward making memories. Not how smooth the icing is! So, with that disclaimer, here are a couple of peeks at our magic creations…

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Day Nine: Conversations with Baby Girl

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Yesterday as we were enjoying some time inside the farm house between cold walks, Baby Girl and I were hanging out on my bed. At the farm she has always shared a room with me, and it’s become a special thing. I’ve noticed that sometimes those down times are ripe for conversations — the ones that help me see her heart.

Baby Girl turned five in August. She was barely four when her father died, and of course sometimes our conversations about that situation are heart-breaking. She has always been the most expressive about Mike’s death which means that I am more likely to field those difficult questions and comments with her. Little girls have special relationships with their fathers. I do. And, so often I find myself looking for ways to help her deal with that loss while trying to shore up her memories.

I wrote last week about how much of a blessing time has been for me in giving me enough distance and processing of the situation with Mike to now begin to talk about him more freely and with more joy. I’ve seen how much that has helped Baby Girl in particular.

Because she is so young, sometimes I see her searching. Like she is trying to make her memories of her father more solid and real. That’s a process we are all going through. Everyone else just has more time — more memories — to pull from. So, she asks me questions. In surprising moments of contentment and safety, she asks. Times like yesterday afternoon.

We were hanging out on my bed in the farm house. She laid down on the side of the bed beside the wall next to where I sleep and asked of that was where Daddy slept. She began to explain to me how Daddy had used this bed to change her diapers and how he had picked her up from her bed when she woke up during the early morning hours and taken her to the farm house living room.

She’s told me this before. She repeats it for me occasionally. And asks, “is that right?” And I tell her “yes.” Every time she smiles to know that Daddy took care of her and changed her diaper and helped her when she needed to go back to sleep. Yesterday I told her that this was one of Daddy’s favorite things to do. I explained what I had all but forgotten myself. That Mike had often gotten up at the farm to play with her in the mornings — when toddlers always seem to wake. He did it to let me sleep. And to be with Baby Girl.

To write about it is still painful. I’m not quite at the stage where it is pure joy to remember the kindnesses Mike showed me, the kindness of his character, and the love he had for his children. I’m not sure I’ll ever count those memories as pure joy. They may always be twinged with the reality of his death and his choice to die. But, it is important for me to remember them again. And it’s important for Baby Girl to remember them. For me to be able to tell her “yes, that’s right.” To freely elaborate and give her more of the account of her father. To nurture those memories she treasures. What we all treasure. I’ve realized how important it is for me to help her hold them dear.

I’m learning how precious those moments of sharing are for our family. And for my own process of moving forward. I’m learning that it’s ok to show my children my tears and to give them permission to show their own. I’m learning that it is healthy and good for us to ask questions together and answer them together. I’m learning that joy does indeed come in the morning of our grief as we are slowly waking to those moments of truth and remembrance.

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