2014 Then, 2015 Now

2014. A glance in review.

We bought a mountain cabin in May for a really, really good deal. In real estate terms, that translates to Needs Lots of Work. For now, it is a place to go most weekends in the spring, summer and fall (no heat there yet - a bit chilly for winter visits). A fun opportunity for adventure and learning construction for the teen guys and their dad (and me). Eventually, (soon?) it will be a place for family retreats and time together, and our retirement home. We are gutting, adding windows to widen and enjoy the view, re-arranging rooms, replacing old yucky spots, and getting rid of four legged, furry vermin who decided it was their home while it sat empty for years. I'm looking forward to the point when we can begin re-building, rather than tearing apart.

The type of books I read changed after we bought the cabin. I moved toward reading lots of decorating, design type books, looking for the style, ideas to use. My two favorites are Remodelista, A Manual for the Considered Home, and Country Living 500 Kitchen Ideas. Do you like before and after pictures? Me too. But as there aren't any "after" pictures yet, I will spare you the "before" shots. For now. Discovered I gravitate to the scandinavian style - their simplicity and unclutered rooms, full of light. For the new kitchen, I have three requirements: no corner cabinets, a walk-in pantry, and lots of light. What was a long narrow laundry room will be the walk-in pantry off the kitchen, the counter top and cabinets will be along one wall with a center island, and we are adding two large windows along the kitchen-open-to-the-dining room wall for the best view and light. Love it. Look forward to cooking up food for a crowd in that kitchen.

With the focus on decorating and remodeling, I realized something. The point of decorating or design is to ask:
                                           How will we live here?

Not so much how it will look, but will it work for us, how we live:
How will it be convenient? Or practical? Or comforting? Or friendly? Or light-filled? Or pleasant? Or welcoming? Or life-filled (people, pets, plants...). These are the questions that define a personal, realistic decorating style. These are the questions I want to answer in this new place of ours.

Our family welcomed  two new grandsons this year! Little feet to learn to walk in their daddy's steps.

We traveled to California, Oregon and Arizona for family visits. Had the opportunity to take a four generation guys-with-the-same-name photo. Priceless.

A seven month writing hiatus happened. No particular reason, just a pause, a space in blogging and writing. I missed it, the connection with you readers. Let's re-connect.

And now, 2015 has arrived. Shouldn't we be flying cars and eating precisely proportioned pre-planned packaged food for perfect health? 2015 isn't quite as futuristic as I thought it would be. Maybe that is just because I am slow to catch up with all the changes?

2015. Looking ahead, I plan to take a Master Gardener Class this year, something I have wanted to do for a long time. I think this year will be my window to make that happen. Looking forward to that.

We have the first trip of the year scheduled, to fly to Iowa the end of January to visit our family there, celebrate two grankiddos' birthdays and spend time with our son and daughter-in-law. Our travels are all family oriented, one disadvantage of having everyone spread out in six states, but I am grateful for the opportunities to see all of them. Hooray for special airline deals!

Ann Voskamp's, One Thousand Gifts, is a book I will re-read at least once a year. Last year Ann challenged herself to write a fresh gifts list to 1,000 in one month. Thirty-three or so gifts, listed, each day. That challenged me to re-visit my list, set aside during my writing hiatus. My list, counted at that point, would take ten a day to complete one thousand by the end of the year. Not as ambitious as hers, but for me, a good goal. And I did it! Once I started, it was easy to keep going, keep watching, keep paying attention daily to all the details of grace in my day, and to be thankful. My list is in a  small book I keep out on the table or countertop. (The gifts list posted above on the computer page is not current - but I will be updating it soon.) And the gifts of grace, listed daily, go on.

"The quiet song of gratitude, eucharisteo, lures humility out of the shadows because to receive a gift the knees must bend humble and the hand must lie vulnerably open and the will must bow to accept whatever the Giver chooses to give."

                                                                                                             -Ann Voskamp

This quote, the "quiet song," and "to accept "(welcome), tie together my word-of-the-year for 2013, quiet, and 2014, welcome. My word for 2015? Another post, to come.

Ten Things I Learned in June

This post, linked with Chatting at the Sky, is sparked by an idea from Emily Freeman. She started it on her blog, a way to zero in on the random thoughts and lessons and challenges and growth from this month.



1. When a baby bunny is surprised or afraid, it hunkers down, motionless, lays its ears flat on its back and looks just like a pudgy rock. "You don't see me!" I was out front watering and it stayed perfectly quiet until I got too close - then it bounded off like a rock[et]. Fascinating to see how animals are equipped for survival.

2. On a home garden tour, I saw many of the same plants grown in each yard. Each yard, though, had a completely unique feel, attitude, look, character. You and I may plant the same plants, but each of us will create our own unique expression with it. This was a wonderful lesson in creative individuality. It is not the tools that make it unique, it is what we make with them.

3. Japanese Beetles are a destructive nuisance in my garden. Garlic juice (home brewed) helps, but I ended up pulling out the affected plants.

4. I can keep my desk cleared off - well, almost. The sticky note function on my computer is a great tool - keeps the papers from floating around my desk. Oh, and if my desk is cleared off, I have to dust it! Never had to do that before...Thanks to The Nester's challenge, I can keep an uncluttered desk.

5. "Though no one can go back and make a brand new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending."                            -Carl Bard
This quote, and a post by Allison Vesterfelt on the Storyline blog, really got me thinking. She says, "The smallest decisions I make during my day say a lot about me...I love the fact that the word for 'character' in a book, and the word we use in English to mean 'the essence of who we are,' is the same...Our character [is] the compilation of small actions and experiences over time...And of course we can't control all of our experiences, but the closer attention we pay to our 'character,' the more power we have to carve it into something we can be proud of in the end." My smallest actions, my choices, my attitudes, all tell the story that is my life. Life is not necessarily determined by heroics, but by the day in, day out small stuff.

6. I love having a dog in the house. Really missed her when she was gone for a week with her boy. (Missed her boy, too).

7. Letting go does not get any easier with the younger kids. You'd think I'd be used to it, would know how to do it by now. Nope. It still takes a calm effort to trust and quietly, confidently release them. To allow them to wing it on their own, trusting that their roots will not tether them, but give them security and self-confidence to fly on their own.

8. Zucchini Chocolate Chip Cookies are not a big hit. It's like I committed a horrible crime, mixing vegetables and chocolate. What was I thinking!

9. Pomodoros really do work when I am stalled or disoriented. Just 25 minutes. Just this. Now.
www.pomodorotechnique.com. A lesson I seem to need to re-learn repeatedly. I forget. Then learn it again.

10. I do not like novels with gut splattered relationships. I like happy endings, not novels that leave me depressed, discouraged. I want to be encouraged, to read of characters who make mistakes and mess up, but who learn and grow and develop hope and love. This is how I want to write. I also do not like bad language in books. Writers should use real words that mean real things. Do we really have to have bowel movements or male puppies of female canines mixed in character's conversations? I don't think so.

Quiet Moments

Seedlings and Hope

Traveling Light, for me, is about carrying today with an open hand.

Planting seeds for tomorrow, yes, part of today's work.

Look forward to tomorrow.

Live today. With a light footstep, walking lightly.

Which means I have to speak gently with the son who pushed all my buttons this morning and our words got all tangled and messy.

Which means I want to take today slowly, one limping, faltering step at a time.

Which means I plant seeds and water and keep the florescent light close over them, even if the chill of snow is predicted to fall tonight.

And I attempt to step quietly through the day, my hand open to today's work and tomorrow's hope.

Seedlings in the basement

Halcyon

My one word theme for 2013 is quiet. I meant to write more about it, delving deeper into various meanings, but this past month I have felt, well, quiet. Haven't posted as much as usual. Not sure exactly why, but my excuse is practicing quiet.

When I think of my ideal quiet day, I think of the beach. The beach, however, is not a quiet place: waves pound on the shore, wind roars across the sand, seagulls screech, sand blasts against your face, your clothes are blustered and hair whipped by the wind. I had to laugh when I thought of it that way. Why do I think of the beach as a quiet place? Perhaps because it marks some of my favorite get-away destinations. Visits with families who had a beach house gave us moms time to chat and breathe while we kept a quiet eye on the kids. House-sitting opportunities at a beach house gave us the luxury of living in a place we could never afford. There are memories of beach-side hotels that offered pleasant retreats for my husband and I. Visits with distant family meant beach trips in Hawaii and the Gulf of Mexico. One house where we lived was close enough to the beach to take frequent afternoon trips for the kids to play in the water and the sand. Even with the wind howling, the waves crashing and the seagulls screaming for our food, beach days were quiet days.

At one beach house where we visited friends, a storm moved in. The tides were predicted extremely high, swallowing the sand, up to the low brick walls protecting the patios. Over the afternoon we watched the ocean turn from blue to green to gray to violet to indigo to navy blue to black, and the storm was on us. A quiet afternoon? Not in the forces of weather, but the kids all played outside as long as they could, tossing the tennis ball into the water and watching for the waves to toss it back, their sweatshirts wet in the cold spray.

From our house where we lived in the central California coast area, we would drive to the Pacific Coast Highway, turn north, and travel about thirty minutes to Pismo Beach. It was a great kids' beach. A long, slow, gradual slope, waves that came in gently at low tide, hard-packed sand perfect for playing and building. We loved to go mid-week, a benefit of home teaching, after the morning school work was done, a quick lunch packed, and often, the beach was practically deserted.

One drive, I don't remember why, we turned a different route off the Pacific Coast Highway, left on a street named Halcyon. At that point, we were still on the bluffs, the homes high, overlooking the coastline. After a block or so, the road appeared to drop out from underneath us. It plummeted, seemingly straight down for several hundred feet. The kids all screeched, some in panic, some in delight, like on a roller coaster ride. (I admit, other times when we drove this route, I would crest the top of the hill and let off quickly on the gas pedal to create a greater feeling of anti-gravity and increase the fun.) The road dropped quickly to sea level, to fields of strawberries, lettuce and broccoli, crops that flourished year-round in that perfect sea climate. Never too hot, never too cold, ideal for growing.

Halcyon looped across the green fields and joined the road that took us along the coast to the section of beach we liked. The dictionary says the word halcyon is from the name of a legendary bird that "had a peaceful, calming influence on the sea at the time of the winter solstice." The afternoons at the beach created for us a calming influence. A time to relax and play, to enjoy being with each other. I would take a book, but rarely read it, choosing instead to gaze at the waves and the kids playing together, and watch for the occasional dolphin or sea lion. We loved to go in the winter when the beach was pretty much guaranteed to be empty. The water was too cold to swim, but they would play, tossing a football or frisbee. Or, they would build sand creatures or castles. Or sit and enjoy the scenery, no responsibilities, nothing to do but relax. Or collect seashells. Or bury each other in the sand and take silly photos.

"Halcyon days," is a phrase from literature and music, denoting nostalgia and remembrance. Our granddaughter, when she was little, knew to go to her "happy place" when something frightened her. We were at a lively restaurant with animated animals displayed in the jungle scenery. When the elephant above our table trumpeted, she quickly retreated into her happy place, her eyes shut tight, humming a little song to herself. Then she cried and a kind waitress let us move to a table less populated with four legged creatures. For me, the beach is my happy place, a place where the tranquility and beauty soak into my soul, creating a sense of deep quiet.

When I realized, however, that the beach is really not a quiet place, I also realized that the sense of quiet can be achieved in the middle of a normal day's chaos. The noise of a normal household, the clashing personalities, the challenges of learning and growth, the demands of duty and responsibility all create wear and tear, like the waves pounding out their rhythm on the ever-changing sand. Even here, there is calm and beauty and peace and halcyon days.

We do not live near the beach anymore.  I am learning that a state of quiet is from within - not a result of idyllic external circumstances. It is rooted in a tranquil heart. At any time I can choose to retreat to my quiet place, a place of trust and love and being loved and grace and being deeply grateful. There, always, there is quiet. My biggest surprise in understanding quiet is that it is not about stillness or quantity of words or volume of sound. There is an energy in quiet, like the ocean waves surging deep below the surface, powerful. And I still have much to learn about quiet.

Acceptance and a Quiet Heart

Amy Carmichael, a missionary in India, wrote,

"In acceptance lies peace."

Accept [even this]. We (at least I do) immediately start a list of qualifiers. But not [this] or certainly not [that]. Nope. Accept [even this].

One of our daughters compared this to a making a fist, or the contrast of an open hand. She wrote,

"I did a study on acceptance and that really helped my outlook on life. The opposite of acceptance is resistance, and resistance consumes a huge amount of energy. Someone compared it to when you clench your fist, how it takes strength and energy to clench your fists. But, if you open your hands and relax them (let go), it takes no strength and no energy. Acceptance, letting go...it means you stop using your energy on things you have no control over so you have energy for the things you do have control over (mainly yourself). It's a wonderful thing!"                      -Ginny

 Remember in the Charlie Brown Christmas movie when Lucy is telling Linus why he has to get rid of his blanket? She says, "I'll give you five good reasons." Holding her open hand hand in front of his face, she tucks in each finger, counting, "One, two, three, four, five," ending with a tight fist, a fighting stance.
Linus says, "Those are very good reasons." And with what we know of Lucy's character, she was not one to back down.

An open hand is relaxed. Turned upward, it is able to receive.  A peaceful stance.

The contrast of a smile or a frown illustrates this concept, too. A peaceful, calm, relaxed smile. Or, a tight-lipped, jaw-tensed, scrunched-up forehead. Ask my family which I wear more often. My goal, a relaxed, quiet smile.

Like a surfer catching the waves, the goal is to stay on top, loose, fluid, and relaxed. Balanced. A surfer doesn't control the waves. But s/he can accept the strength and power of the wave and it becomes a tool, a means of travel.

Traveling lighter. Let go. A quiet smile. Acceptance. Balance. An open hand. The strength of  a quiet heart.