Oh Happy Day: Exuberance
The rush of holidays at the end of the year always feels like a whirlwind for me. The way Thanksgiving and Christmas meld together in the celebration machine sometimes leaves me no time for transition. I often feel like I need a way to cap off Thanksgiving. With this year’s kicking-and-screaming approach to the 12 Days series focused on giving thanks, it was nice to reacquaint myself with gratitude for those few weeks and to take time to savor some down time with my wonderful gifts before delving into Christmas fun. It encouraged me to look again at cultivating the discipline of thanksgiving week in and week out.
That’s really how the whole Oh Happy Day thing started. I envisioned it as a way of looking at the blessings of each week and acknowledging them on Friday in the tradition of “TGIF.” Only morphed into just “thank God.” It’s a worthy endeavor and I want to revisit it more regularly in the coming months. With that, Oh Happy Day!
Last night we had a time-honored rite of Christmas celebration everywhere. The Christmas Program. Yes, Baby Girl and Bug presented their annual daycare Christmas program slash musical — where musical is not really a musical, but more like an alternating display of stage frightened toddlers and over-exuberant preschoolers. It’s the exuberant part that caught my attention. Oddly enough, this week I’m thankful for The Christmas Program.
Now, I fully realize that the most obvious gratitude-inducers with The Christmas Program would be “Thank God it’s over,” or “Thank God it didn’t last too long,” or “Thank God noone threw up on the stage.” But, as I made my way through the week of fielding questions from Bug about the event, listening to brief and very cute impromptu promos, and hearing “are you going to come and see my Christmas Program?” from him approximately 137 times, his shear exuberance started to take root. I was really looking forward to seeing the result of his hard work and excitement.
Bug had warned me several days ago that he was planning to “sing loud.” Bug does very many things loudly, and having just experienced the Thankgiving luncheon program at the daycare, I knew he was dead serious in his plan. Sure enough, The Christmas Program was NOT a silent night kind of event when his class came to the stage.
Bug was one of the sheep on the hillside. From the moment my little showman took the stage, I could see by the barely contained grin on his face that he was primed for high volume vocals. He looked through the crowd and spotted me with a big smile and his stage presence took over from there. The all-too-brief nap the sheep took prior to the angelic visit was punctuated by Bug’s own stage direction encouraging the rest of his herd to stand up for the next song. His little body was fairly itching to start the hand-motions encouraging us to witness the birth of the Christ child slash baby doll. His face shown with anticipation as his teacher paused in the story narration to queue the songs. Never have I heard a more resounding series of NOELs in response to the angel’s message of good news. It was downright earth-shattering. It’s hard to believe everyone in the Bethlehem Hilton didn’t hear it and rush out to the stable for a bleary-eyed look. The emphatic “Merry Christmas” and wave goodbye at the end showed me that Bug was entirely pleased at his performance and he beamed when I told him I completely agreed.
Thank God for exuberance. It’s so contagious. I’m very grateful for the ability of my four-year-old to maintain exuberance in the silliest of circumstances. And in the most serious of endeavors. Exuberance is engaging. Exuberance is blind to self-consciousness and indecision. It elevates the ordinary into something extraordinary. Exuberance brings pride to something achieved. It acknowledges that a thing is important. Exuberance motivates laughter and tears. It makes me look anew at simple tales and simple truths. Exuberance makes me grateful for having reasons to rejoice.
Oh Happy Day!
Filed under Oh Happy Day! | Comment (0)In a Wildflower
To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour.
(William Blake)
These first four lines are likely the most recognized of William Blake’s much longer rhyming treatise on nature’s lessons and need for protection alongside human nature’s frailties and inescapable tethering to creation. It’s from the poem, “Auguries of Innocence.” To me, it has always been the colossal urging to pay attention to the details. It’s so easy to miss the longevity of a single moment.
Little Drummer Boy and Bug have taken to bringing me “prizes” in the form of wildflowers (and sometimes grass, sticks or the occasional lizard) found around our lawn. They are quickly coming to realize that mommies always love flowers. This knowledge has something to do with the squeals I offer them in return every time.
They each presented half of this bunch to me last week and were eager to see the blossoms find a home in my “flower glass.” They seemed satisfied with this spice jar repurposed to showcase their treasure. And a treasure it is. It’s been way too long since I’ve buried my face in a mound of clover blossoms to enjoy their sweet and tender fragrance — it is summertime’s rite of passage in Mississippi. Last Wednesday, I was all too eager to poke my nose into the center of this bouquet at the insistence of the boys. “It smells!” they said with renewed discovery. It was a discovery for me as well. I had almost forgotten that these ever-present reminders of the grass’ need for mowing actually have a scent. How often I miss the sacred place found in something simple like a collection of white tiny-petaled “weeds.” How often I breeze past the pursuit of these treasures by pudgy, dirt-stained fingers just to get inside the door at the end of the day. How often I fail to embrace and really soak up the infinity of that moment as these prizes move from their sweaty palms to mine.
Yes, I’d like to get back in touch with that little girl who didn’t mind burying her head in a field of clover. In the mean time, although it wasn’t quite the same as lying facedown in the field of green shapes, to bury my head in each of their little bodies in a thank you embrace was most definitely heaven.
Filed under Family + Motherhood, Poetry + Word Pictures | Comment (0)Tues Ten 050410: Drummer-isms Version 5.0
Since we’ve been celebrating Little Drummer Boy’s fifth birthday this week, I thought I’d once again share some of the insight that springs from his brain on a sometimes daily basis. He never fails to make me laugh, ponder and cry all at the same time. I give you this week’s Tuesday Ten: Drummer-isms, version 5.0. AND, I’ve included a bonus top ten list of my favorite previous posts featuring Little Drummer Boy. He’s provided much Junkie inspiration. Enjoy getting to know my favorite 5yo and the lessons he’s taught me!
1. “Maybe that’s the Spanish way of saying it’s as easy as possible.”
[LDB's take on the etymology of "easy as pie."]
2. “Mommy, you’re my best friend.”
[Smile.]
3. “I think I can trust you to pick something cute.”
[On letting ME pick out Baby Girl's clothes for daycare]
4. “My mom said neat-o.”
[Said with pride when Mommy was being completely Mommy at a preschool party. I'm dreading the day that pride turns into rolling eyes.]
5. “I love tootin’ sounds. They make me giggle a lot.”
[Obviously. Sigh. Boys.]
6. “I thought it was dark in there. Maybe next time, if I’m a baby I should bring my flashlight in there.”
[From a discussion about being in Mommy's belly]
7. “There you go again. Huggin’ me.”
[Yeah. Get used to it.]
8. “Mommy, I like your new glasses.”
[Ever the charmer. Steals my heart every time.]
9. “You’re making my brain hurt.”
[I know the feeling, but can I get that with a side of "yes ma'am?"]
10. “Look at them flying, Mommy. They’re like tiny little airplane seeds.”
[On blowing dandelions]
AND Top ten Little Drummer Boy posts…
2. You’re Mine
5. Doo Doo Chronicles: Breaking Up is Hard to Do
6. Gift Tag: Lessons in Dignity
10. Tues Ten 042809: Drummer-isms
Filed under The Tuesday Ten | Comment (0)Oh Happy Day 032610: “Prizes”
“Mommy, I have a ‘prize for you.”
Spoken with a gleam in his eye and hands concealed behind his back, trying to balance his “prize” with a juicy cup and several beloved stuffed friends, Squiggle Bug took obvious pleasure in saying it. Let me tell you. There is no pleasure quite as obvious as 3yo pleasure. And, although he couldn’t quite articulate the SURprise, I was all too happy to be surprised nonetheless.
Every day this week, my boys have commited themselves to offering Mommy an unsolicited “surprise” at the end of each work day. The Bradford Pear tree I mentioned last week is still in full bloom next to our driveway, and it has limbs just low enough for Little Drummer Boy and Bug to break off a small cluster on their way to the door after we get home. Although I know what the “prize” is every time, I still give them each a hug and a kiss and a surprised “oh I love it” before putting the current fruit of our “flower tree” into one of several vases on my kitchen window sill.
It’s Friday again, and I’ve neglected the Junkie this week in favor of a busy work schedule. But, with the daily “prizes” of the week fresh on my mind, I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to give credence to a thankful heart once again in an Oh Happy Day! gratitude posting. This week, I’m grateful for “prizes,” those unexpected pleasures that have come my way–the serendipity of surprising words, surprising accomplishments, surprising glimpses and surprising gifts. I’ve noticed how powerful those unexpected moments of crystal clarity can be, the moments when we recognize and embrace the value found in little things. The “prizes” of the week have reminded me that what may seem small and insignificant to one person, can grow and expand into something so much bigger for someone else. The insignificant can become significant in the right place, at the right time. The “off-the-cuff” can become “right-on-target” in the right place, at the right time. The simple gesture can become empowering in the right place, at the right time. It makes me think about what I’m doing a little more carefully. It makes me think about my own definitions of “small” and “big.” It makes me want to do and say the little things, just in case they might grow in the right heart, in the right place, at the right time.
The week’s lessons in the art of surprises:
Exhibit A: Surprising Looks. The proud faces of my boys as they prepared to hand over their treasured “prizes” was an unexpected pleasure this week that I took the time to enjoy. And, truth be told; I was kicking myself for the number of times I KNOW I have overlooked those precious expressions, distracted by some seemingly more important notion. Their smiles offered me a surprising glimpse into the unencumbered joy of giving, the joy of accepting, the joy of being affirmed and affirming.
Exhibit B: Surprising Words. I was the recipient of some unexpected, but much-appreciated compliments this week. Someone I value and admire offered some positive feedback on this blog and on some of the day job endeavors in which I’m currently engaged. It’s interesting how those surprising words gave me a new drive toward creativity, a renewed motivation to measure myself and my endeavors in terms of quality rather than quantity.
Exhibit C: A Surprising Fit. I’m just a girl at heart. Still. And, in specific, I’m a girl who had three babies in four years. This week, I pulled out a nice Eddie Bauer jumper dress–a lovely and polished outfit that I honestly hadn’t worn since sometime before I was pregnant with Baby Girl, maybe even Bug. It fit! It looked good on me. It made me feel like I could take on the world. And, in some ways, it empowered me to take on my little world in a new way. I know my male readers out there don’t get this one. But, we all have hidden confidence benchmarks. Sometimes for women it involves a pair of blue jeans or a nice grey pinstripe jumper with a pair of 3″ black boots. Just sayin.
Exhibit D: Surprising Freedom. This week I acted on something I’ve been wanting to do for a while. The details would bore you, but suffice it to say that it was a simple act that allowed me to feel like I was taking better control of myself and taking ownership of some of my own decisions. Following through on intentions brings with it an unexpected freedom–the freedom to act, the freedom to be deliberate, the freedom to move forward with new things. The impact of just one small act really surprised me.
When I go home in a few minutes, I’m sure LDB and Bug will gather their “prizes” again. They’ll struggle with hiding them while holding on to all their own personal treasures. They’ll smile and hand them over with pride in their eyes. They’ll follow me to the kitchen and watch me add them to the vases. Then, they’ll go on about their movie-watching and car chasing, satisfied with themselves. And, I’ll smile again. The Bradford has mostly leafed out with tiny bright green growth now. The leaves are inhabiting the same branches as the flowers and will soon push them out. Already, any decent gust of wind or drizzle of rain sends down showers of the white petals. The time for “flower trees” is almost gone. For the boys, it will give way to more outside time, rock collections harbored away in their pockets, dirty jeans and skinned knees. Their surprises will probably shift to something like interesting sticks or colorful rocks or slimy green lizards. And, I’ll gladly take them with a smile (even the lizards), but I won’t soon forget these blossomy “prizes.” Or the Exhibits of the week.
Oh Happy Day!
Filed under Oh Happy Day! | Comment (0)Tardy Solstice
It seems I’m tardy with many things these days. My only excuse is the daily occurrence of real life, joyous and challenging as it may be. Saturday was the Summer Solstice, the “first day” of summer, although our already humid 90 degree temperatures in Mississippi over the last week said it was at least a little overdue. Our Saturday was spent enjoying 2009′s longest day at my parent’s home. After yummy food and racing cars and stickered airplanes and much drooling and searching for “flint” rocks (ones I’ve yet to learn how to distinguish) and late afternoon naps and shouting and extra time with Daddy, it was 11:30pm before my three gifts could be coaxed to embrace the night, long after the sun had given up it’s day of “triumph.” Earlier in the week, a friend encouraged me to stare at everyone I love a little more closely these days in light of the unexpected brevity of life. I was decidedly blessed to take her up on the challenge the few extra daylight moments.
I came across a wonderful program called American Life in Poetry, which highlights modern poetry selections with notes from former U.S. Poet Laureate, Ted Kooser. Our local Arts Council has used it in their newsletter (which I design) for years. I’ve only recently paid closer attention and realized that the weekly offering is made available for free publication. A recent column was very apropos in beautifully articulating the push and pull of day and night this time of year.
American Life in Poetry: Column 220
BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATEOne of the privileges of being U.S. Poet Laureate was to choose two poets each year to receive a $10,000 fellowship, funded by the Witter Bynner Foundation. Joseph Stroud, who lives in California, was one of my choices. This poem is representative of his clear-eyed, imaginative poetry.
Night in Day
The night never wants to end, to give itself over
to light. So it traps itself in things: obsidian, crows.
Even on summer solstice, the day of light’s great
triumph, where fields of sunflowers guzzle in the sun—
we break open the watermelon and spit out
black seeds, bits of night glistening on the grass.American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Poem copyright (c)2001 by Coleman Barks, from his most recent book of poems, “Winter Sky: New and Selected Poems, 1968-2008,” University of Georgia Press, 2008, and reprinted by permission of Coleman Barks and the publisher. Introduction copyright (c)2009 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction’s author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.
Lovely. I think I’ll search out more of Mr. Stroud’s work. One caveat: Light seems just as unwilling to give up it’s hold on our hearts. On Wednesday, the boys and Hub were out chasing “lightening bugs” in the guise of doing chores for Miss Belle (the beagle). Upon their return, all sweaty and giggling, they informed me they had caught two. Only, one “COULD NOT turn his light off.”
Much like the lights of my life.
Filed under Day + Day, Poetry + Word Pictures | Comment (0)
