December Light

Happy December! By the hardest, I’ve been holding myself back from thinking about December for a while — from thinking about the Christmas holidays. It IS hard. And not necessarily because the excitement is overwhelming, but because the busy-ness and preparations and schedule can be overwhelming. And because all the hullabaloo the holiday brings tends to encroach on my rest and my peace of mind sometimes.

Just before Thanksgiving, I was in the local Wal-Mart picking up items for Bug’s 5-year-old birthday party. I wanted to get a few extra gift items for him and also some “big brother” and “big sister” gifts for the other two. I think that’s when the impending holiday season hit me — right about the time I turned onto the toy aisle. To say it was overwhelming is an understatement, for sure. My mind immediately went into overload with the number of options for Christmas presents. I flittered from one item to the next thinking how one would love this or one would love that. My brain filled up with a low-grade panic because I didn’t yet have a “plan” for getting Christmas presents or doing teacher gifts or baking goodies or putting up decorations. I had to shake my head at myself right there on aisle 17. I had to tell myself to snap out of it and focus on the birthday at hand.

That’s when I decided that I wanted Christmas to be different this year. Sometimes I over-plan or over-work or over-schedule myself right into a serious case of Bah Humbug or at the least a case of wanting a long winter’s nap during this season. Sadly, there have been times when it made me happy to see the festivities come to an end.

With changes and challenges and the plethora that comes with mommyhood and designerhood, I found myself perhaps dreading the holiday season. But, here’s the thing. I’m a celebration-junkie. I like to celebrate. I like to create and enjoy traditions that celebrate and elevate the simple splendor of everyday life — and especially the simple splendors of a Christmas Christ child on a bed of hay. I don’t want that spirit to be dampened in my heart, in my home, in my life. I don’t want Christmas to get so lost in a sea of preparations that I miss the opportunity to see it, much less celebrate it.

The true celebration of Christmas has the uncanny ability to bring a unique light to the winter of life. From a miraculous child and astonished herdsmen to questioning sages and a guiding star, the story of Christmas can bring clarity from it’s sheer simplicity and humility. This month so often sheds light, a pure and clear light. One that opens up our eyes of wonder. The wonder that makes us step outside our tired thinking to believe in possibilities. The wonder that makes us curious. The wonder that gives us courage to follow the light set before us. The wonder that makes us seek our own light found in the unlikeliest of places.

So, I’m starting this December with my guard up. So that I can keep my heart open to the season’s light. I’m guarding my time so that I can choose to focus on the best things and activities and people. I want my children to know this celebration, not just their busy and frazzled mommy. I want them to see this light and wonder for themselves. And I want to see the light myself. And wonder.

I hope YOUR days, this December are “merry and bright.” Feel free to click and download this month’s desktop wallpaper calendar or iPhone/iPad wallpapers. I’m also beginning a 25 Days of Light posting series over at my Plop! blog to share photos of Christmas light. Feel free to click by!

Exuberance, Part 2

It’s that time of year again. The daycare end-of-the-year program is tonight. Back in December, I wrote about the last installment of the daycare touring show — the Christmas program. And just like that experience, exuberance has again been rearing its head around my house.

Granted, exuberance comes standard where Bug, the four-year-old is concerned, but it’s so much bigger and well, exuberant when there’s a performance involved. Especially a performance he’s been practicing for.

So, this morning I was informed, “Today is next Thursday!”

There’s been quite a buildup to “the program,” as we’ve come to call it. His teachers instilled in Bug the idea that “the program” was happening on Thursday, and ever since, I’ve been asked to explain all things relative to the particular Thursday in question.

Today’s the day. Exuberance struck this morning in full force with major jumps around the kitchen, speed chasing through the hallway, volume set firmly on ten and umpteen questions about who’s coming, did we realize it was tonight, wait is it tonight, my teacher said it was tonight, and so forth.

I found myself saying, “Bug, we need to calm down.”

“Bug, settle down.”

“Bug, we need to lower our voices inside.”

“Yes, Bug, I know it’s Thursday.” (insert sigh)

“BUG! You’re too excited! You need to calm down. RIGHT. NOW.”

He stopped. He searched my grim face for a moment. His giant grin dropped to a blank expression. He looked away for a moment. His face colored slightly. Then, he smiled at me again. Maybe a little weaker, but a smile.

That’s when it hit me. WHAT am I doing? I’d rather see his vibrant grin than a blank stare any day. Any moment. Every moment. This was something he had worked for. Something he had practiced. Something that was just his. In a year of big firsts for his older brother becoming a kindergardener and his younger sister learning to talk and do so many things, this was HIS moment. He was the only one of us in “the program.” This was HIS program.

And he was excited about it.

Dare I say, exuberant. And I want him to be. I want to celebrate with him. I want him to know that I can’t wait to see him shine. And I told him so. I grabbed him for a big hug — the kind mommies give when they know they’ve handled it all wrong. The kind with the prayer under my breath saying, “God, please don’t let him remember this.” I told him I was SO excited about his program. That I couldn’t wait to see it. And he bounded off again with exuberance somewhat in tact.

Yes, I understand self control. I understand appropriate. I understand time and place. I understand how frenzied those exuberant moments (and days) can be. And, I understand how they stretch even the most patient mommy (which I am not) during the daily morning routine. Still, in a world where folks pay big money to attend seminars devoted to helping them find the motivation to do things they already say they want to do… In a world where the self help aisle is burgeoning with ways to get yourself on target with that next big idea… In a world where it seems to take an inordinate amount of effort to defy the inertia of lives plugged in to this technology or entertainment or the other… In that world, I WANT to see exuberance. Blinding, unfiltered, self-generated exuberance.

In my Bug, I want to mold it. I want to season it. I want to train it. I want to channel it. And, yes, at times I may even want to contain it. But I never want to squelch it.

Instead, I want to celebrate it. And tonight, I will.

Tues Ten 041211: How Does Your Garden Grow?

I’m not a gardener. I’ll get that admission out of the way right up front. Still, I enjoy a good outdoor space. They are especially nice this time of year in the South when the heat and humidity haven’t yet made their full onslaught. I mention it because I spent part of the morning yesterday working outside at my patio table. It represented a small triumph for me, something that gave a Monday morning a nice celebration quality. Inspite of my non-gardening tendencies, I’ve been diligently working to reclaim my backyard over the last few weeks. With the help of my Mama (who is, fortunately, quite the gardener), I’ve been making plans involving plants and patio furniture and playhouses, and putting them slowly into action. I began by removing a huge debris pile that had been gathered and allowed to dwarf my view over the last few years. After that came the pruning of many wayward vines and tree seedlings in several areas of the property, and then choosing plants to add and dreaming of various garden ornaments and accoutrements. I still have much planting to do and budgeting for ways to implement my dreams, but the process feels like a celebration even though it’s incomplete. My gifts have enjoyed “helping” and talking about the possibilities. I’ve enjoyed tackling a long-overdue project. And yesterday, I enjoyed a few quiet moments of relishing my accomplishment so far. In celebration of my burgeoning green thumb, I give you the Tuesday Ten: Celebrations from a Morning on the Patio…

1. Bare earth is better than bare branches. (at least when it comes to debris piles)

2. The first step in growing something new is clearing out what’s dying or misplanted.

3. Hearing birds while I’m emailing is a wonderful thing — sponsored by patio tables and wifi.

4. Progress SHOULD be celebrated and taking the time to do it is time well spent.

5. Tea Olive shrubs smell divine this time of year.

6. It’s a blessing to have the freedom to set my own pace — in work, in gardening, in growing — no matter how frenzied a pace it might be at times.

7. Watching my gifts plant and prune and water lets me see they are growing.

8. It feels good to see the results of my own handiwork.

9. Shady places are inviting.

10. Growing is good, even when pruning is required.

Tues Twenty 122110: Sights of Christmas 2010

Gift Tag: Celebrating Fall

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, Squiggle 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.”