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Twelve Days of Thanksgiving: T

· November 14, 2010

Thanksgiving.

Deciding whether to post my usual 12 Days of Thanksgiving series this year was an arduous task. I’m not exactly sure why. The dates seemed to sneak up on me. I can’t believe how quickly the last few months have flown by. It’s always interesting to me how the passage of time flies or creeps, and I suppose part of the pursuit of EyeJunkie is an attempt to slow it down to a series of continual snapshots I can more easily take in.

Beyond the fast pace of experiences that seems to have overtaken my mind over the last few months, I think my real dilema in creating a series of Thanksgiving posts has been a sort of reluctance to explore the topic. I wasn’t sure I really had the mental space to do it justice this year. You may have gleaned from my rather infrequent posts recently that this time of transition in my life has been almost an overload to my spirit, one in which I’ve done a lot of soul-searching. That soul-searching sometimes involves mind-wandering and spirit-wandering, evaluating where I’ve been and imagining where I might be going. Wandering leads to questioning, and questioning is sometimes a gratitude killer.

However, the concept of “3rd annual” is a very powerful encouragement for a girl like me. I place so much stock in traditions that the mere thought of having celebrated the 12 Days of Thanksgiving for the last two years was a powerful enticement to make the commitment this year too. SO… I’m taking the plunge. Today begins the 3rd Annual 12 Days of Thanksgiving posting series at EyeJunkie. Since I’ve noticed my own scattered quality lately as well as the whole soul-searching, gratitude-challenged penchant I mentioned earlier, I thought I needed a little boost for topic ideas. This year, I’m using each of the letters in the word “thanksgiving” as thought-starting catalysts for sharing some of the things blessing me at the moment. They may not be the typical things, but they are realities and ideas that are impressing on me just how big this life is, and how much I DON’T want to miss it.

You see, through the process of deciding whether I really wanted to focus my attention on Thanksgiving for twelve days straight, I’ve realized once again how very central gratitude is to living a deliberate life. How essential it is to a life aware. At least a positive life aware. To be engaged in your own life in any meaningful way requires paying attention to what’s there. It requires looking with intention (even intently) at the things filling up that life and pulling from them the good, the bad, the ugly, the beautiful–whatever differentiates between living and mere existence.

The dictionary defines “thanksgiving” as the “grateful acknowledgement of benefits or favors.” Grateful acknowledgement. Awareness is the prerequisite to acknowledgement. We can’t recognize blessings until we commit to seeing them–really seeing them. So, as I begin this 12-day journey toward Thanksgiving Day, even though I’ve been mired in reluctance, I find that I’m finally eager to seek out blessings and once again cultivate a grateful heart.

I’m reminded of a story in the biblical book of Genesis. A story in the life of Jacob. He found himself at a moment of transition–moving from the life he’d come to know and one of uncertainty. A moment of wandering. A moment of facing his past and his future. Alone at night, he wrestled with an angel until daybreak. When it was clear the new day of decision and action had arrived–the next day–he spoke to the angel. “I will not let you go unless you bless me.” Though it came through wrestling, he received his blessing that day. And he walked away battered, but with a new confidence for the journey.

I hope you’ll join me for these twelve days. Perhaps thanksgiving will require a little wrestling to find the blessing. But, the blessing is there nonetheless. Let’s don’t let go until we see it.

Categories : twelve days

oh happy day . New Leaves

Posted by haley montgomery

· October 8, 2010

Yep. Not a single Oh Happy Day! post all summer long. I started the Oh Happy Day Gratitude project as a way to remind myself to live with thankfulness beyond this day of the week when we usually are all too ready to say “Thank God it’s Friday!” Obviously I’ve been failing.

I’ll admit, I’ve been a bit pouty and ungrateful in the emotional realm lately. I chalk it up to the grieving process that often accompanies seasons of change — even seasons that we welcome or embrace. But, that’s another post I hope to complete soon. For now, I’ve discovered it’s a happy day!

I was reminded with last weekend’s hanging of the scarecrow flag around here that I am indeed willing and able to celebrate the Fall season and all the blessings it brings. I was thinking about a few of those things I’m blessed with and thankful for this week. The chief blessing is the ability to turn over a new leaf. There are those that say “people don’t change,” and I agree that some don’t have the willingness to do so. But, today I’m so thankful that as humans, our minds and hearts CAN be convinced to see things differently, that with the right prodding and reminders and encouragement, we can turn over new leaves. And, not just in this season when leaves are readily changing. It is a tremendous blessing to live life outside of the bounds of instinct or rote. To be able to make up our minds is a wonderful gift God has given. And, to have an openness to shift our view, to see things beyond the circumstantial obvious, to be willing to listen to an a new perspective is one of the best qualities we can nurture in ourselves.

This week, I’ve been making up my mind to embrace possibilities, to move in better directions, to reject the satisfaction with settling, and yes, to celebrate the season of change with the laughter and joy of sweet blessings like Baby Girl, Bug and Little Drummer Boy. Yesterday is gone, and tomorrow is a haphazard quest at best. NOW is here. I don’t want to miss it. I don’t want to miss the sounds of Elmo games on the internet as LDB learns to master a laptop. I don’t want to miss the imagination of Bug that is perfectly ok with pretending “cheetah” starts with “F” for show-and-tell. I don’t want to miss the coy smile of Baby Girl as she requests “hug.” I don’t want to squelch their excitement at pulling out silly scarecrows or orange plastic pumpkins. I don’t want to overlook the kindness and accomplishments of loved ones. I don’t want my own mindset to cause me to miss it.

So, Oh Happy Day! In celebration of October and my new attitude about it, I’m offering a re-post of last year’s “Jack” desktop wallpaper sporting this year’s calendar. I love it because the jack-o-lantern photo by a 4yo Little Drummer Boy makes me smile. And the silly “peek-ee-boot” of a 2yo Bug reminds me of how quickly they are learning and growing. I don’t want to miss it.

Categories : oh happy day!

Thinking About Cows

Posted by haley montgomery

· October 7, 2010

What is it about kids and cows? Of all the animals in Creation, each of my children have learned to speak cow first. Most recently, Baby Girl has added the standard “moo” to her vocabulary. Only for Baby Girl, it’s a husky, emphatic and insistent “moo.” It’s said with a gusto not found with the ho-hum “woof” and “meow.” There’s just something about cows, I guess.

I grew up around cows. Sort of. My grandfather and my father both kept cows on my grandparents’ farm kind of as a hobby. We visited there almost every weekend when I was a child–sometimes on Friday night through Sunday afternoon, sometimes just on Saturdays. I didn’t spend a lot of time with the cows. They were more of a continual presence. A background, so to speak, for lots of other tomboy activities. In a farm setting, I suppose that’s often the case. My mom grew up on that farm, and I know the cattle were a physical and metaphorical backdrop for her as well. I remember stories she told me of playing “church” in the neighboring cousin’s barn. From the make-shift pulpit, she expounded on scripture she learned at Sunday School… “be not like dumb driven cattle.” Cows. A continual presence.

Cows have an uncanny stare. I’ve been the recipient of it many times over the years, both from near and far. The stare is deep and thorough. But, it’s also a bit blank. You just know there’s not a whole lot going on in there. Still, I’ve always wondered what they’re really seeing with that unflinching gaze. The whole “dumb driven cattle” reference is quite appropriate. They tend to be followers, there’s no doubt. When one begins to gaze, you suddenly find yourself in the grip of the whole herd’s stare. And, if they’re familiar with you, they’ll adopt that stare from up close.

The cows in my dad’s herd learned every pick-up truck he ever had. They saw it every couple of days and with Pavlov’s nod, rightly associated it with feed sacks. When the cows in the front pasture saw it coming around the gravel bend toward the house on those Saturday mornings, they began the trek to the barn. Even if the dumping of the feed sacks wasn’t imminent, I suppose they wanted to be prepared, to make sure they were in the necessary position.

In the back pastures where there were no roads only worn down and less bumpy paths, the cows would gather around the pick-up. There were only select places in that area where feed troughs were stocked. Those cows relied on hay and grass for their sustenance. Still, the truck meant something. They gathered around as close as a bunch of 600 pound, fattened-up beasts could. My dad would roll down the truck window to touch their noses or their foreheads. He wanted them to be familiar, especially the bulls. Bulls are a whole other essay of the more ornery sort, but Dad made a special effort to forge communication with them. He would talk to them, “hey Big Man” and coax them into letting him touch their oversized foreheads. It pays to have a bull on your side.

When the truck was ready to move on, no amount of honking could encourage the cows on their way. Only a small shift in the gas pedal and a slight bump to one’s rear would sink in. From there, the whole group followed that one cow’s jump and bolt away from the vehicle. It was the same with “driving” them or losing them. All it ever took was one cow in some moment of independence wondering if that blade of grass on the other side of the fence would be more tasty, and before you knew it, the whole lot of them had lumbered through whatever sagging barbed wire structure was there to un-pen themselves. Likewise, usually just one wave of the hands and gruff shout from Dad (or whoever might be helping him) could frighten them down the gravel paths required to get them right back where they should be fenced. You would think it would be harder than that. After all, I mentioned the 600-pound quality. But, I guess none of the other cows stopped to wonder why all the fuss or the need for such quick movement. They simply reacted to the one ahead of them, who reacted to the one ahead of him.

Thinking about cows has me wondering. How many times in my business, my home keeping, my relationships or my faith are my actions simply reacting to the one ahead of me? How often do I respond simply out of habit the way that’s always been expected of me? And, how much of my experiences am I missing out of plain old numbness because of it? That “be not like dumb driven cattle,” spoken from a young farm girl’s play and gleaning of faith, is actually a pretty good admonishment. I don’t want to lumber through my experiences bound by the blank stare of simply following old habits because they are habits or following the ways everyone else is doing something because that’s just how it’s done. And, I don’t want to bump and boulder through life immune to the thought that comes from really seeing what I’m seeing. No, perhaps I want to adopt that one creature’s wild hare and be bold enough to step into something new, to push my full weight against the fences binding me until they finally give way.

There’s just something about cows.

Categories : beautiful ordinary

Celebrating Fall

Posted by haley montgomery

· October 4, 2010

Little Drummer Boy has been pestering me about the “Welcome Spring” ladybug flag we’ve had hanging off our back stoop since sometime in June. I mentioned recently that it was almost Fall, and we needed to hang our scarecrow version instead. Since then, he’s asked me almost every day if I’ve hung it. I had to answer “no” each time with the promise that we would get it out of the cabinet like we do around the beginning of each October, and he could help me. Of course, his mind moved on to Transformers and other Super Heroes, and mine moved on to ten thousand other things.

October has really sneaked up on me this year. I’m usually counting down the days until this month begins with the Fall-like weather and changes in nature it usually brings in Mississippi. This year, however, I have had a hard time noticing. I suppose I’ve had other things on my mind.

I was sitting at the dining table with Little Drummer Boy this weekend. It was after a meal at some point, and I was lamenting aloud that I had forgotten something or not done something he’d asked or something I had planned. I really don’t remember. Whatever it was, LDB’s response was, “That’s ok.” Even at his age, he’s an encourager, wanting me to know that all is right with the world even if I hadn’t remembered something I was supposed to. He leaned in close with a look of intent in his smiling eyes and added, “‘Cause we’re celebrating Fall.”

Hmmm. So, we’re celebrating? To be honest, I had actually been dreading the “celebration” of the Autumn season, and I hadn’t been willing to really explore why. But, I looked in his vibrant face with the innocent confirmation of a joy some silly tradition I had randomly established created, and at that moment I realized we were already celebrating. I had been saying that we needed to celebrate Fall, that we were going to do it with some of the usual pumpkins and Indian corn and scarecrows we usually bring out for the season. But, I hadn’t actually gotten around to the celebrating part. Until I heard Little Drummer Boy’s declaration of it, I wasn’t really in the celebration frame of mind.

October is usually a month of evaluation for me. I think most of us have those times in the year when our thoughts naturally gravitate toward self-inspection and life-inspection. For me, one of those times is October. Perhaps the tendency began because my birthday falls at the end of the month. Plus, there is something about the first touches of coolness in the air that seem to inspire an airing out of my spirit after the long summer.

Airing out. I find myself writing (and thinking) about transition a lot recently. My essays tagged with “change” are growing in numbers. Of course, there have been a few logistical changes in my life recently–namely beginning my own business, a change that has affected my approach to work, my finances and in practical terms, how I spend my days. More than the physical changes, though, I’ve sensed my heart in transition. Over the last year, I’ve been seeing dormant areas of my life that need awakening. I’ve had a renewed recognition of the passage of time and of how quickly it seems to move. I’ve noticed areas of life that I’m just not satisfied with–areas I’ve determined must change in order for this journey to more closely match my hopes and dreams.

I’ll confess that these realizations have darkened the skies in my anticipation of Fall this year. I was beginning to see this season of typical introspection for me as foe rather than friend. For, the “taking stock” that so often accompanies October for me usually goes hand in hand with a strong sense of celebration in an inherently fruitful time, and a joy in the acceptance of change and newness that I’ve had a hard time mustering lately. Oddly, I’ve been holding myself back from my usual excitement about the arrival of Autumn. Perhaps in my mind, the change of seasons represents so much more of my own changes than ever before, the need for turning over leaves. Perhaps it reminds me more of the discontent that’s been taking root, and of the decisions and will to act that is usually required to produce sustainable change.

“That’s ok. ‘Cause we’re celebrating Fall.”

Somewhere in the five years LDB has been in this world, he’s caught on to the fact that life is worth celebrating. That Fall is worth celebrating. That it’s fun to do a silly thing like taking down the ladybug back yard flag and replacing it with the scarecrow version. It’s fun to notice the big pumpkins and sunflowers and the silly crow sitting on the scarecrow’s shoulder. And, somehow in his declaration of our “celebration,” I realized that indeed it is “ok.”

Whatever frustrations I’m laboring through with the changes I’m experiencing or anticipating in my grown-up life, there is still room for joy. Even if I’m not fully where I want to be, where I feel like I need to be, there is still the opportunity to exercise the discipline of celebration. Even if it only begins as a discipline, “that’s ok.” Even if my process of change has me falling short of turning over new leaves at the pace I was hoping, “that’s ok.” Perfection isn’t required for celebration. And given the choice, I’m not willing to hold off on celebration until perfection arrives.

I read something this week that encouraged me to open my eyes. To look around me and see with true awareness the realities of my life. It’s so easy to focus on areas where we want changes and to overlook those that offer continual blessings and laughter and enrichment. It’s so easy to say “yes, but.” I was reminded to look with eyes of potential and possibility at the circumstances that have been challenging and to recognize how far I’ve come. To CHOOSE to focus on the incredible blessings I’ve been given, the treasures entrusted to me. To choose to embrace the reality I’ve written of: that life is change, and change is growth. Each step–even the rocky or slippery one– is one taking me further on the journey of a life worth making.

On Sunday, Little Drummer Boy, Bug, Baby Girl and I determined that the scarecrow in the cabinet had gotten lonely. We even thought we could hear him calling out to us. LDB was certain he was sad he hadn’t been able to “watch us play” this year. We pulled him from the pile and put him on the flag pole. A first step this season.

“‘Cause we’re celebrating Fall.”

Categories : mother's heart

living . When Staying the Same Isn’t an Option

Posted by haley montgomery

· September 20, 2010

When Staying the Same Isn’t an Option

Thank God in Heaven above; 3-year-old Bug has put his tee-tee AND his doo-doo in the potty for the last three weeks. Plus, he wore his big boy Elmo underwear every day AND night. And was excited about it.

For weeks (maybe even months) I had been attempting to get him to try the underwear. “Look! There’s Elmo. And cookie monster.” I sang and danced in my best Elmo impersonation. “Potty time, potty time…” I cajoled in an attempt at positive peer pressure. “Big boys wear these.” Bug was totally unconvinced. He was WAY too smart (and independent minded) for that argument. I mean, this is a boy who is three, but insists he’s “pretending I’m four.” Alas, the typical Mommy-tactics were useless. So, I took comfort in the words of the Queen, my friend, mentor and mother of two fully potty-trained adults–“Nobody ever walked down the aisle in diapers”–and decided to wait it out. As with all things Bug, he usually has to make up his own mind before any efforts at convincing have a snowball’s chance of succeeding.

Then, it happened. Three weeks ago, the stars aligned with my overworked brain and dang if I didn’t forget to put 2T pull-ups on the grocery list. Yep, my oversight did not become apparent until AFTER bath time when we would normally pull on the pull-up. I searched the house and every conceivable traveling or school bag to no avail. There were no more pull-ups. Rather than letting Bug stand there in his shimmies while I scooted the minivan to the grocery store at 9:00pm, I thought we could just use one of the old diapers for the night. “Why don’t we just put this on tonight and Mommy can get you some tomorrow.” Yeah right.

The moment of truth. The tipping point. The straw that broke the pull-up’s Buzz Lightyear-clad back. Whatever you want to call it; for Bug, it was a literal defining moment. And I quote… “Babies wear diapers.”

I’m not sure at what point in his doo-doo journey he came to that conclusion, but clearly on this night he had arrived and there was no turning back. Where only a mere 12 hours before he had been content to be a “big boy” wearing pull-ups, before my eyes “big boy” took on a whole new meaning. The diaper differentiation was made and “big boy” was redefined. At one time being a “big boy” meant wearing pull-ups emblazoned with Buzz, or if you were really cool, Lightning McQueen. With pull-ups out of the equation, suddenly the parameters shifted. As they so often do.

It made me think. When staying the same isn’t an option, what do we do?

I haven’t written about my 2010 theme word in a while–the pursuit of COURAGE, learning it and living it. This episode with my 3-year-old brought it back to the forefront of my mind–a mind that perhaps needed a clear reminder of the courage required for growth.

We all reach that point at times in our lives when we realize that going back really means going backwards. It’s a defining moment just like the pull-up fiasco was for Bug. At that moment, when it’s apparent that staying where we are–staying the same–is simply out of the realm of what our own hearts can accept, things get redefined and repositioned pretty quickly. When faced with the choice of going back or moving forward, we often see ourselves in a whole new light, by a whole new definition. Our concepts of what we’re able to do and who we want to be transform. And facing those realities takes courage. Acting on them and stepping out into that new definition of ourselves takes even more.

When it comes right down to realities, what part of life ISN’T a choice of moving forward or going back? Nature teaches that the process of growing only includes a finite time period of hybernation before it becomes stagnation. To be alive is to grow and change, or to become toxic and begin the process of NOT living. In those moments, defining and differentiating progress becomes one of the greatest acts of courage.

Bug decided that very night that Elmo underwear was an acceptable option. In fact, it was a preferable alternative to the babyhood of diapers. He put them on and had no accidents during the night. “Big boy”-ness, the expanded edition, had been achieved. Beyond that, it only took one experience of having doo-doo in those sesame street numbers to convince Bug that was no longer the way to go. Presto. Surprisingly, he’s only had a handful of accidents at preschool, at home or in bed since that night. In his process of growing toward more maturity and independence, it took removing just one thing from the option box (by accident), and the game completely changed. Actually, for Bug, game over. His mind was made up and potty training was done.

I so admire this little guy–his courage, his determination, his gusto, and yes, even his “my way or the highway” attitude. In one fell swoop his definition of being a “big boy” grew beyond his comfort zone, and he embraced it without blinking an eye. I’m so inspired by that sheer resolve NOT to go backwards. A good lesson.

Categories : live, mother's heart

Hello & welcome! I’m Haley Montgomery, and I’m the designer and owner of Small Pond Graphics. I sometimes fancy myself a frog kisser— a documentarian coaxing poignant moments from unexpected places. This blog has evolved from those moments.

The small Pond FIELD GUIDE is part diary, part sketchbook, and part wish list – an archive of ordinary wonders. For years, this space has housed my stories – creative ideas, vintage inspiration, our forays into curious places, and the simple artifacts of quiet of conscious living. Through watercolor, photography, and illustrated tales, these pages uncover the blessing of ordinary days and the wonder found in authentic places and pursuits.

I invite you to open the boxes.
Peek into the drawers.
Rustle through the pages.
I’m honored to have you here.