Unwrap this Moment

Our youngest son, thirteen, has some difficulties with memory. The situation is complicated, and for here, I don't need to share details.

The point is, I respond in two ways.

1. It doesn't matter, he won't remember this moment anyway. Why bother?
2. Or, this moment, now, is all we have. Pay attention. Make it valuable.

My default attitude, I admit, is to just get through this day, unaware, unappreciative of the passing moments. Survive.

How do I exchange that default attitude and live each moment full of value?

Last night, lying snug in bed, the house dark and quiet,  I listed three things in my head, three things to help me be more aware of each moment:

• make sure he is secure, that he knows he is loved, cared for, protected
• be sure he learns something - even if it's the same thing he learned this morning or yesterday or last week - be sure he is learning, growing, taking something in
• watch for opportunities for gratefulness - reaching out to others and the Lord - responding to life with gratefulness. Each day I have him write three things on a gratefulness list. For now, it requires a lot of prompting from me, but he will grow in his ability to see.

These three words:

• secure
• learn
• grateful

Perhaps he cannot articulate the impressions, the memories of his days. But he is aware at a deep level, and these are what I need to build into him.

And obviously, this has applications for all of us.

• Love the moment.
• Search for the value of now.
• Seek to learn, be always looking, learning.
• Enjoy, with an open heart of gratefulness.

Appreciate all that is here, now. Listen to the sounds. Look at the sky. Feel. Move. Go for a walk. Laugh. Smile. Play a game. Read aloud. Talk. Listen. Not just going through the motions. Enjoy the life we have here, now, together. Live. Alive. Awake. Unwrap the moment.

Linking with Emily Freeman, Chatting at the Sky, and "Tuesdays, Unwrapped."

Wonder Full

         Full of wonder at the wonderful.


joining Deidra and the quiet Sunday community

Awake to this Day

I woke up this morning, warm, in a cozy bed, my husband breathing deeply beside me, the early sunlight filtering through the blinds.

Awake.

A day ahead: shop for groceries, take books back to the library (one overdue - oops), go for a walk with our dog and her boy in the brisk air, chat with the guys, hang more twinkle lights, complete a writing project on the computer, read, plus all the minute tasks that filter through my days.

This day ahead, a gift. To enjoy. To relax and revel in its delights. To breathe, and smile.

Awake.

The short story, A Messy Thanksgiving, is posted on wordsbymo.blogspot.com. If you didn't get a chance during the busy Thanksgiving season to read it here on this blog, you can click to jump over there. With another major holiday a few weeks away, Sandy's messy holiday story is still appropriate.

It's All in the Attitude

"Your attitude is an expression of your values, beliefs and expectations."

-Brian Tracy, a motivational speaker and author.

"The problem is not the problem. The problem is your attitude about the problem.
Do you understand?" 

-Captain Jack Sparrow, a pirate. Perhaps not the wisest person to validate a quote, but the truth lurking here is worth the risk of the source.

drawing by littlebitzoart.wix.com/littlebitzoart

I Want More

Does this seem an odd title when my theme is traveling lighter? When I wrote last week about minimalism?

Dissatisfied isn't always about things. Sometimes it is discontent with me.

When I lie in bed at night, I think of all I should have/could have/ shouldn't have/said/done. (Take your pick. There are always regrets to mull over. This girl is far from perfect.)

I want to be more awake, more aware to each moment.

In this moment, what do I want more?
          This cookie, this second helping? Or, more health, more strength, more energy?

In this moment, what do I want more?
           The satisfaction of a caustic reply? Or the emotional confidence to love and give? Do I want more strength to give up what I want to gain more love, or do I choose to snap back a "smart" retort?

In this moment, do I skip daily Bible reading and turn on the computer to read emails?
           Or do I want more, the deep satisfaction of quiet moments with the Lord, preparing my heart and mind for the day?

In this moment, our son returning a painfully slow answer (that takes Forever...) do I show patience and kindness?
         Or do I bleat a hasty, impatient response that is all about me and my time, not understanding or acknowledging or meeting his needs?

In this moment, I want more. More awake, more aware of others.

In this moment, the setting sun fading the air to peach, to gold, to navy, do I see it?
           Am I aware of the beauty of the deepening day?
            Or am I too absorbed in dinner preparations, clearing up a daily load of clutter, or fretting over all that didn't get done that day?

In this moment, do I see the amaryllis bulb unfolding a tiny bit each hour, soon to explode in a firecracker of blossom?
           Or do I settle in the secure familiar of haste and hurry of anxiety over [anything] [everything]?

What do I want more?

I ask a lot of questions.

The answers are a process. Part of being awake, aware, realizing I have a choice.

And the calm beauty of the season is there. Here.

If I look for it.

More love.

More kindness.

More patience.

More strength.

More beauty.

I want more.


Emily Freeman, "Chatting at the Sky", is hosting a series for December, "Tuesdays, Unwrapped."
"Celebrate the lovely, the messy, the unexpected."
"Unwrap the small, secret gift of the everyday."
Linking with her, today, to unwrap the beauty, the gift of this Tuesday.

The Sunny Choice

"I have just come out of a gloomy room into a sunny room to write these words. I had my choice. I could have stayed in the sombre room, but I choose to come into the sunlit room and the warm, cheering beams are even now falling on my page. 'Walk in the light!' And I make my choice, and how often I choose to walk without Christ in the unfertilizing and unfruitful gloom of self-will! In the light of the Lord I could have a garden of Eden; how often I choose the dingy wilderness where I can grow neither flowers nor fruits...The way of light is the way of delight, and 'the joy of the Lord is our strength.'"

My Daily Meditation
-John Henry Jowett

joining the quiet Sunday community

Awake

December first, the Christmas season officially in stride. As if we didn't know that already.

Last week I mentioned my theme word for this season is AWAKE.

To not coast through the next few weeks, unmindful, unaware. I want to open my eyes. To see, what?

The beauty and peace of these days, as opposed to the overload of clutter and chaos.

Our son picked out a book at the library, Listen to the Silent Night, by Dandi Daley Mackall. A book that messed with my thinking about the classic image of the silent night. All the not-so-silent noises of that evening: the jostling crowds, the donkey plodding, Mary breathing heavy, restless, the sheep rustling in the grass, the soldiers barking commands, sandals flip-flopping across the dusty roads, Joseph asking for a place, the innkeeper speaking, "No," the cows and chickens bedding down in the straw, Mary struggling with the birth, the newborn Baby alive, catching His first breath, full of life, angels with their message to the shepherds, the shepherds running, shouting the news.

There is a lot of awake that night.

A night, a season to pay attention.
A season to listen.
A season to see spectacular sights.
A season to sing.
A season to laugh with joy.
A season to be grateful, so very grateful.
A season to be awake, watching.


Houses glowing, inviting, displaying light, welcoming, are one of my favorite Christmas decorations. Houses saying, "Life is here." Friendly. Happy. Bright. Like the old tradition of keeping a lighted candle in the window to welcome family arriving home, to direct their path through the dark night, Christmas lights are a way to say, "Welcome, come in, we greet the season, and you, too."





I want to be awake, to not miss the now. How will I do that?
By stopping what I am doing when our son asks me to read him a book (just did that, in case you are wondering).
By baking cookies with the guys.
By putting up our decorations (doing that this weekend).
By playing Christmas music, all day long, and singing along (sorry, guys, maybe I'll stick to humming).
By opening my eyes to find the joy around me, especially in the littlest things.
By smiling.
By simmering cinnamon and cloves and oranges and apple peels.
By going outside in the dark, in the cold, to gaze at the stars.
By connecting with others - family, friends, neighbors.
By displaying the Jesse Tree ornaments each day.
By dipping into the calm assurance of the Gift given to us, the Lord Jesus.
By being AWAKE.

And, in all the busy-ness and the doing and the bustling of Christmas, to take the time to look, to see, to enjoy the depth of the season. Like a deep pool of clear water, I can keep it stirred and murky with all the activity and must-be-dones. Or, I can allow the mud and murk to settle, allow the calm and peace to prevail, revealing the crystal clear beauty and peace of the true message. Awake to the gift of life.