Sometimes

I see little blonde curly-haired girls and get a bit sad. Now please don’t misunderstand, I’d never give up any of my amazing little men for a girl, but there is something a bit sad inside of me that doesn’t have a little girl. I remember writing something a few years ago — before I was a mother — about contemplating motherhood. And I imagined a little girl with bouncing curls, frolicking and helpful; immersed in dirt and imagination. And my, those cute girly clothes — tights and skirts and dresses and polka dots.

I get a bit sad that I won’t be attending one of my daughter’s births (granted, I didn’t have my own mom at mine, so not sure I’d even get the opportunity). It’s just all those particularly female things that I will miss out on passing on. What do I do with my jewelry that I want to pass on?

Most people look at my life and either see its craziness or its blessing; and that is all there for sure. But it’s a good reminder that everyone carries at least a twinge of sadness amidst the abundance.

rambling thoughts

I’m sitting in a coffee shop, listening to The Civil Wars and Regina Spektor on Spotify whilst working on my PhD and I suddenly feel myself. It’s not this “Yay, I’m away from kids and listening to music and working” hurrah exactly, it’s something like I can imagine myself again, unencumbered, for a moment. Why I am an introvert. Listening with a slanted look to lyrics, feeling them in a way I haven’t felt in a very long time (the time when I’d write poems about piano sonatas or even just wrote anything beyond the FB status updates that consume us all). And I can breathe.

And then I wonder if this mothering thing that I do day in and day out is just something that has been a honed skill. What if motherhood isn’t *me*? For someone with now three children, the idea that there’s more than mothering is both terrifying and electrifyingly wonderful.

I’ve always known (and in the past really fought for) that I’m more than my role. But it’s amazing how much (good and bad) comfort we can find in roles, that by putting them on like clothes in the morning, we take satisfaction. Part of this is I think God-given, the glory in the mundane, daily work-a-dayness of life that we’re here for. At the same time, it can all too easily slip into identity.

It’s nice to get a glimpse of me, a relief to know she’s in there, changed and different because of the motherhood gig, but still there.

Pinterest

Just a little plug for a new time-suck, but wonderful organizational tool: Pinterest. It’s a social network where you can “pin” anything you see online and organize them into boards. It’s helping me look for ideas for Ezra’s fourth birthday party, decorating ideas, and a convenient spot to keep recipe ideas (and anything else)!

I’m pinning http://pinterest.com/aahales/.

Some of my favorites:

Converging

I feel like I’ve actually had a few moments of rest recently. Perhaps it is because the boys are getting just a bit older, or when my in-laws taking my kids several times while in Zion, or my mom watching them now so I can work, or just the long summer days, but it’s been nice.

I have this push for aesthetic holisticity, intentional living and order. I feel like I’m finally making progress on clutter (in small spaces of course), thinking and dreaming about decor possibilities that aren’t just beautiful (and that I don’t have to have NOW, which is a change) but also enhance one’s ability to do and be with others, reimagining my marriage and work hard at growing it rather than being used to how things have been, reading and thinking about growing in my understanding of who Jesus is as a person and not just a bite of theology (I’ve started Dallas Willard’s The Divine Conspiracy to this end, given that it has been recommended by two of my favorite women).

It feels good to not thumb through magazines with an “I want that!” but to see beautiful objects and vistas and let them inspire without fueling dissatisfaction. I finally feel like I’m moving (not just paddling with my head bobbing in and out of the water), and although moving often feels like circling more often than not, at least I’m enjoying the confluences.

Edinburgh

I’m in Edinburgh. I haven’t been back to visit since 2008. Before that it was 2006 when I moved away. It’s strange being a place you’ve forgotten, yet is still a part of you. I thought that I’d have this big emotional moment coming back, walking the streets. But I didn’t. It’s just Edinburgh all over again. And yet its familiarity is sweet. I even still remember the exact paths I’d take from my supervisor’s office to the National Library and what shops I’d pop into along the way. And today, I went out of my way to retrace my steps again. I think there’s something lovingly ritualistic about that. And in the process it helps me to remember myself a bit more holistically, without idealising some past scholastic self, nor being so bogged down in the mundane details of mothering that I forget that part of me either.

It’s really quite an odd spot for me to be in — in another country without those people that consume my waking hours, without the schedule of young children to dictate my own. Freeing and yet, life feels a bit less complete as well. I’m pleased to know that I do still have thoughts in my brain, thankful for an encouraging PhD supervisor — another mother of children — who understands and yet does not excuse the ways in which I can use my mothering and indeed pregnancy as a prop on which to rest my procrastination.

It’s a beautiful story, come full circle, really. I feel rather torn — at once, I want to simply run back home, or not even get on a plane in the first place, while on the other hand, I crave ‘new’ and foreign and exciting, full of promise. I’m unsure how to reconcile those bits of myself — or if it’s possible to do so — and where and how and what that will lead me towards in life (professionally, locationally, etc). I’m thankful for my three years in Edinburgh and I’m thankful to be back now. And I try to not yearn for completion or an atlas for my future, though I’d love to know what I’ll end up doing and where it will all happen.

Wherever I am I hope for more adventures, more people to love, time to pause and wonder, and to get that ebb and flow intact: yearning for new, content with the everyday; energy for the new experiences and patience with routine; revitalization of faith that infuses the momentous and helps me appreciate the craziness of the moment.

Nothing in my head

So upon a recommendation of a friend, I’ve just finished reading the wonderfully insightful book, The Introvert Advantage. I’ve really enjoyed it. My favorite title was the one on parenting: “Are they up from their naps already?” Made me laugh out loud at how true that sounds! What was lovely about this book was how freeing it was to be a wallflower when you need to if you’re an introvert, but also that we do need to ‘let our lights shine’ so that we develop community. The author had some fabulous ideas about how to extrovert at parties and still conserve your energy and how to evaluate your schedule to make sure you’re not over-committing so you still get time to yourself to recharge.

One thing has really rang true with me though was that if introverts don’t have time and space to process information, they literally think there is nothing in their heads. Oh, you mean, the fact that I have 2 littles at home means that I have to set aside time to process and think and just be? And not fill it up with Facebook and Twitter and blogs? Because I have felt like I used to be smart, used to know how to think critically and now that I’m in need of finishing my PhD thesis ASAP, I have nothing in my head. What both this book is helpful in articulating (and my PhD supervisor mentioned as well) is that your brain needs time to process and percolate. BUT you have to let it percolate or the thoughts and ideas and inspiration just doesn’t come. Introverts apparently have a longer brain pathway (thus, it’s not great to interrupt us — takes longer to retain their spot and uses more brain energy), so it takes us longer to process info and think and dwell on it. But lots of great ideas can come from this!

So in honor of my introversion, I’m committing to letting my brain think through things without the clamor of media or just vegging out (which I’m prone to do at the end of the day). I’m going to teach myself again how to just *be*, to dwell.

Sunshine and cleaning

Today the sun is shining. It’s in the 70′s and should get into the 80′s. I’m a happy mama. It means my kids can run and play and dig in the garden (we’re moving some plants around) and get lots of energy out. The sunshine also helps my mood lift.

Here’s the spot I’m in. As much as we love to be outside, I’m feeling the need to be inside purging our stuff. I’ve bought the book Organized Simplicity, written from Tsh over at Simple Mom. It’s a book I need. It helps you evaluate how you’re living with stuff, finances and clutter all through a family purpose statement that you come up with. One of these days Bryce and I need to actually come up with one and then maybe I’ll get to actually cleaning! ::wink, wink::

But I feel so surrounded by stuff. By stuff to do on my to-do list. By constant mess of toys and junk the kids no longer play with. And if I could just clear out actual clutter then maybe I’d have some space in my body and head for real things. For being with people without thinking of all the stuff I should be doing instead, of noticing my dirty floors that haven’t been mopped in however long, of seeing the paper pile up again.

I know if I ever get my house in order — and I’m not talking spotless — simply less stuff, less clutter, and a spot for everything — it’s not going to magically make life easier. But I do feel a more inviting space without all the extras will help me with larger goals I have for my mothering: for time to sit and relax and read together, for cooking together, for playing trains and sitting outside to enjoy the sunshine.

What about you?

A new blog, another season

I’ve let my blogs in various guises and from various years just peter out. In fact, when I finally got on WordPress again, I didn’t even know I had so many blogs (for my PhD, for my editing work, for my reading groups…).

As much as I hope to be profound and insightful and thus adored by the internet masses, I really would love a chronicle of my thoughts, hopes, dreams and milestones in my family’s life. So this is what “Circling the Story” is going to be about — part awesome, part lame, part just for me to remember so that when I’m incapable of remembering anything coherent or when I want to tell my grown sons how old they were when they got their first teeth, I can look it up.

And a note on the name: for as much as I’ve studied literature in my 31 years, I always am drawn to ‘story’. To narrative, pure and simple (of course we have to wonder if such a thing exists, but anyway…). And what’s captured my heart more than any other (on my good days) is the story of Grace — of grace in the person of Jesus, who made his dwelling in both glorious and diseased human flesh, who ran and walked and who touched both beauty and filth. It’s a beautiful, embodied story of something so much grander than we could imagine and so life-changing if we believe it and yet so humbling, gut-wrenching and hard that you wonder if this faith is really worth it. I want my story, and my family’s story, to circle *that* story. The ebbs and flows of faith, grace, wonder and beauty; touching death, decay and bringing hope and life.