As summer teases me with it’s end, I’ve been reminded in more ways than I would have ever asked to be that seasons of change and transition are an ever present part of life. I am reminded that even when I feel my greatest want is for things to be the “same” for awhile, my greatest need could very well be a more courageous face off with yet another set layers I need to shed.

I’m talking about finding stability in the midst of seeming turmoil. Of realizing you have a deep fear that needs to be addressed and purged, a fear you would have not realized was such an underlying driving force in your life had your situation remained honkey dory.

(Did I just say honkey dory? You bet ya )

So I hear Fall is the seasonal representation of letting go, of asking yourself what things you are holding on to. I’ve stumbled upon a blog about transitions and have been getting such nuggets of wisdom:

“From a spiritual perspective, every transition is an opportunity for growth. As we learn how to let go into ‘groundlessness’, we move into a more effortless alignment with life. Life is ever-changing, and when we approach transitions consciously and with the intention of growth, we eventually learn how to accept this truth with grace.

This is not an easy task. Transitions require no less than the willingness to die, to sit in the uncomfortable void, and to be reborn. Who would willingly embrace this task? For some of us, we have no choice. Transitions seem to pull us into the underworld and create such fear, pain, confusion, and disorientation that we must seek help. While in the throes of this challenge, this may seem unfair, and we may be plagued with questions…

Yet when we finally emerge from the pain, we see that the struggle was well worth it. For to enter into the death-void-rebirth cycle is to embark on the heroine’s journey. And when the heroine returns from her voyage, she carries the boons—or jewels—of her travels. One of the great boons is that she knows, at a deeper layer of consciousness, that there can be no light without entering the darkness, and that with each descent into her darkness, the light shines ever more brightly. She knows that next time she is pulled into the darkness—which most likely will occur in the midst of her next major transition—she will be able to navigate the journey with grace. She trusts that, even as she cries and rages, she is exactly where she needs to be. She realizes that she is developing a capacity to die and be reborn and she recognizes that there is no greater spiritual task on earth.” – beautifully written by Sheryl at Conscious Transitions

I cling to such a deeper hope these days that I am exactly where I am supposed to be, in the midst of a stormy sea of fear and confusion and pain. Weaker moments come and go, moments of despair that will surely continue to show themselves for the rest of my life. But I’m learning a lot and part of my dread is turning into excitement about the challenge of removing unnecessary things I’ve held on to, of finding a deeper freedom and faith. Of learning about truly unselfish love, hope, mercy, and about my true self that I keep reading about from Thomas Merton (and bare with me as I share ):

“If we love one another truly, our love will be graced with a clear-sighted prudence which sees and respects the designs of God upon each separate soul. Our love for one another must be rooted in a deep devotion to Divine Providence, a devotion that abandons our own limited plans into the hands of God…

a selfish love seldom respects the rights of the beloved to be an autonomous person. Far from respecting the true being of another and granting his personality room to grow and expand in its own original way, this love seeks to keep him in subjection to ourselves… Such love fears nothing more than the escape of the beloved… A love, therefore, that is selfless, that honestly seeks the truth, does not make unlimited concessions to the beloved…

Hope deprives us of everything that is not God, in order that all things may serve their true purpose as means to bring us to God. Hope is proportionate to detachment. It brings our souls into the state of the most perfect detachment. In doing so, it restores all values by setting them in their right order. Hope empties our hands in order that we may work with them. It shows us that we have something to work for, and teaches us how to work for it.

…All desires but one can fail. The only desire that is infallibly fulfilled is the desire to be loved by God.

…Only the man who has had to face despair is really convinced that he needs mercy. Those who do not want mercy never seek it. It is better to find God on the threshold of despair than to risk our lives in a complacency that has never felt the need of forgiveness. A life without problems may literally be more hopeless than one that always verges on despair.

So thank You for despair, transition and letting go. May they be gentle teachers – I have much to learn.

We all have one of those days. Probably often.

It’s not that something tragic happens or anything actually “bad”, really. It’s just that, even when you are feeling groovy, things around you just are sorta … not flowing?

Maybe I am posting this because it is August. August is, I admit, my least favorite month of the year. I love love love the Fall, Winter and Spring, but Summer has a few highlights and then by August I just want to fast forward to late September, Harvest Festivals and cool nights…

There is truly so much beauty and inspiration in life, but there are times that you have to look a lot harder than normal to see it. I can show you pictures of the kids and the garden, of tea cups and candles and butterflies — but what is beyond the frame of the camera lens? Do I have bad days? A messy house? Longings unfulfilled? Bugs in my garden?

Well, folks, I DO! And despite that I do deem my life magical and charming (thanks mainly to my sweet children, with little help from me!) – there ARE things outside the frame.

So today, instead of the usual Friday “This Moment” of cherished memories, I will let you see beyond the frame into the everyday not-so-quaint parts of my life.

I have dishes that pile up in just 6 hours:

and clothes that have been sitting in the washing machine for several days because I haven’t had time to hang them on the line:

kids who strew their clothes all over their room after you just put them away:

These bugs:

Who do this to all my beautiful corn:

A whole jar full of these bugs:

Who do this to my pumpkin patch:

Flowers that fade much too soon:

And kids who pick their nose:

Not to mention, of course, the AWESOME fact that I hear a litter of raccoons in my attic at midnight:

So, dears, take heart — and I will try too. Maybe if we can embrace life’s messiness and disappointments we can be truly grateful for all we have.

Last week we had a few days of cookie making, movies, and mud pies that come along with rain. The kids and I LOVE the rain…

There is something very crucial about experiencing rain – up close and personal, not always tucked away inside cars and houses. Like knowing the warmth on your face from a live fire, or sticking your toes deep down in the wet sand at the water’s edge and “sinking”; your body touching the elements, making you more real, more alive…

it’s invigorating. We soaked it up, as did the gardens, knowing July and August will likely not bless us with so much wet abundance from here on out!

And when it rains on your parade, look up rather than down. Without the rain, there would be no rainbow.
Gilbert K. Chesterton

“I’m homeschooling because I know in my heart it is RIGHT.”

This type of statement can be heard/seen pretty frequently in the homeschooling community, I’ve probably said it myself, almost unconsciously, as a reason for what we’re doing (as if you really owe some one an explanation, lol).

I think there is some error in that. The first is in assuming that hefty word: RIGHT.

It’s not that I don’t believe some things are inherently right and wrong. But many things wrong are done with good intentions, and I think that is often the result of a duality viewpoint. For example, “if sending kids to traditional “school” is wrong, then I am “right”". Some think time outs are “wrong” (”love withdrawel” we like to rename it – the Alfie Kohn er’s perhaps?) and others don’t (Nanny 911 crowd, cheer!); scheduled meals/bedtimes is wrong and others right (unschoolers vs Waldorfers, anyone???); circumcision wrong and others right (attachment parenters vs. Babywisers, holler!); you get the idea. (ohhhh, I just thought about some even more challenging ones for me: SUGAR, CONSUMPTION, and BREASTFEEDING! Aghst!)

Speaking internally, as well; inside myself, I wrestle daily with “that is the wrong thought. That is the wrong emotion” – assigning virtues to emotions that are so much more simple than all that I give them credit for. Thich Nhat Hanh, in his book Anger, says it well:

The foundation of our practice is the insight of non-duality, the insight of non-violence. This insight teaches us how to treat our body with tenderness. We must treat our anger and our despair with tenderness. Anger has roots in non-anger elements. It has roots in the way we live our daily life. If we take good care of everything in us, without discrimination, we prevent our negative energies from dominating. We reduce the strength of our negative seeds so that they don’t overwhelm us.

As I said, I do believe some things are truly right and wrong, in a universal kind of way. But there are very, very few things I think probably fit that bill. The rest is sooooo subjective. And certainly no parenting or schooling technique is so “right” that it ensures happy, well-adjusted, peaceful kids who excel at whatever they put their hands on and grow up to live a life of the utmost value (college, jobs, artistic or altruistic endeavors- whatever it is YOU the parent think is the utmost value, lol!).

I’m learning this, ever so slowly. The more life broadens the range of my community, I find folks and families who simply defy my stereotypes, who teach me something from a new perspective, and the more I recognize the importance of non-duality. All these opinions and choices exist in the same spirit of parents trying to do the best for their children, (often royally screwing much of it up – whether they know it or not, ha!) and by all different means and methods.

Practically speaking, I was just at my Radical Homemakers group on Tuesday and the subject of homeschooling came up. In the book, the author challenges some typical American assumptions, and one of them is this statement: “Education is not a fixed-cost”, i.e. deep, good learning can happen anywhere, in many ways, at all times, and does not have to be purchased (eg private schools, college, etc).

The group was about evenly divided on the public schooling moms and homeschooling moms, and of course I shared why even on the worst days when I feel like a total failure, and the best public elementary school (maybe in the whole state?) is a stone throw away from my house, I still talk myself down from enrolling Ethan in kindergarten.

And when you share such strong choices rooted in strong values with the world, it is so very important to love – always always love. And with that love for the people around you, you speak with respect for their different viewpoints and try your best to think through what your going to say before using words like “because I know what I’m doing is RIGHT”. Sometimes I do a good job with that, other times I totally fail and come off like the self-righteous hippie (you didn’t think I was aware of that, did ya?). But the truth is that I don’t think WHAT I AM DOING is RIGHT. I don’t. At all.

(I also don’t happen to think it’s wrong, of course. )

It, my friends, is JUST A DECISION. We humans make decisions based on many insights, influences, and factors, and then we do our best. And sometimes we change our mind. Move. Quit a job. Leave a relationship. Just choices. Period. End of story. (No arguing necessary.) Some seem right or wrong, only in hindsight we may appreciate the experience for all it was worth and have grace on ourselves and others who brought turmoil to life because of their choices. In the end, I believe God is the Author of our story and the Forgiver of our mistakes. Mistakes that might cause problems but often get us right where we need to be anyway. (amen and amen?!)

How I feel about homeschooling is deeply rooted in my experiences and knowledge and desires, and while I don’t mean it is “just a decision” to say that I take the choice of my child’s learning lightly (because believe you me, I don’t!). I know that successes and failures (poster children for every argument!) come out BOTH sides of the coin, so the less I concern myself with what every one else is doing, wants to do, or has done, and just focus on my home, MY space, those in MY family, the more I feel ready to make a choice, even when there are tensions (embrace them — they are all part of it, this little time here).

And when you make a choice, OWN IT. And when it seems obvious that you need to make a new choice, ADMIT IT. Be flexible, be tender with yourself and those around you, and be very careful to assume what you are doing is “RIGHT”. (hmmm, am I speaking to YOU or myself?!)

Until next time…

For the last month I have had my doubts about staying in the Ozarks. With the change of seasons, I’ve felt driven in my search for a “next place” that would have less Summer heat, humidity, and mosquitoes, (and with better soil). You know where all my research landed me? Right back where I started.

All the places I thought I might like better, upon further inspection, turned up similar or worse heats, humidities, and mosquito counts in the summer. And those that didn’t, well then your facing deep, long winters or some other trade-off – at the very least, land that is not in our price range (at. all.)

So many things to think about when your dream is to operate a sustainable mini-farm for the rest of your life

The Ozarks feature, among other things, beautiful rolling hills– very green this time of year. Driving out to Cave Springs to get my mother-in-law from the airport reminded me of that. There are many, many natural spaces we have yet to find time to go explore – so many rocks unturned. It would be silly of me to think we’ve been there, done that, with regard to NWA only 4 months in! Surely I have more sticktoitness than that?

I do miss the city life of Portland sometimes – the tea houses, yoga studios, parks, libraries, biking over the Broadway Bridge (PURE BLISS), or catching the MAX (though I always forget to think about the times I sat at a bus stop in tears of frustration and shivering from the cold because I missed the bus! lol) I also, of course, miss some dear friends I made there and the general vibe of the peer group and inner neighborhoods one could find community in.

Adjusting to a new place is hard, as we anticipated. Things don’t always go as smoothly as we hoped (like opening the waldorf-inspired playschool and having a less than idyllic relationship with my landlord as a result). But there’s a lot to be said for sticking things out, for staying put, and for making the best of where you are.

Sometimes the very things I am moaning about are the things bringing another person joy. The Ozark Homesteader was just writing about gardening in this heat, seeing it as a sort of detoxing season for sweating out impurities. I often come across, in my research for a “better place”, folks dreaming of a place with rolling hills, lakes and fireflies, and I’m reminded that indeed where I am can be any one’s “little slice of heaven” given a positive perspective (maybe even Pollyanna attitude) towards it (just as I did so love the misty rain of Portland that others not from there thought would be a major bummer). That’s why some love Maine, others Montana, others Georgia, others Alaska – I think you gotta soak up the good from where you are and find sustainable workarounds for the rest!

I think the bottom line, or a few of them, is that the region we are in offers the community of family and friends we were hoping for when sitting at our lonely Thanksgiving table in Portland, as well as the affordable land and scenic views we’ve dreamed about. The rest is just not that important.

Our mini-farm (my retirement plan, to be implemented within the next 9 years) is something I continue to learn more about and adjust to my particular area more and more as we recognize the need to stay put to realize our goals.

And many of you are like me – dreaming of the Someday House in the Someday Place living the Someday Life. And that’s all well and good, but know that so much can be done right where you are. From backyard gardens, chickens and beehives; to spending more time with family, writing, drawing, or singing; or learning to knit, make bread, or ferment Mead: many a learning experiences can be had before you are ever on that Someday Land.

Here’s to dreams and good ol’ fashioned contentment!

I’ve been keeping track of my time a bit this last week or so, trying to estimate what percentages of my time is devoted to what.

Here’s what I have found, currently:

- sleep an average of 6 hours a night and nurse about 2-3 times during those 6 hours.

- (spend an average of) 4 hours a day on meal prep, eating and meal cleanup.

- 4 hours a day on house chores and yard work (and still my laundry is piled up!)

- 3 hours a day on direct involvement with the kids (reading, crafts, outings, bathtime, bedtime, etc)

- 3 hours a day on my work-at-home business (no wonder I have so little time for this!)

- 1 hour a day with Chris

- 1 hour a day on email/blog/facebook to catch up with friends and family

- 30 minutes a day on personal needs (shower, brush teeth, get dressed.)

- leaving me with 1.5 hours a day for something to surprise me

For me, this list is somewhat revealing. I have found that I spend a lot of my day on a lifestyle of “simplicity” that is really quite a bit of hard work but very good for me too. I eat well and I move a lot, (which saves me the time and money going to a gym – or having any healthcare needs!), and my kids are happy and healthy, which contributes to my quality of life a lot. And I suppose the house/yard is somewhat maintained, lol. I would like more sleep, me time, and husband time, but I suspect so does every mom! Perhaps when I “retire” (I’ve told you I plan to retire by 35, right? It’s my ten year plan. Yeah. I have lots of those.)

I also get time to watch a movie or knit here and there (though usually only when multi-tasking or coinciding with husband-time). I don’t have much time to call people back or reply to emails, and I get chided for that from friends and family members at least once a day

As I bend down, 30 pound baby on my back as usual, to sweep the mornings crumbs and sticky oatmeal from under the table, summer ants scattering away, I admit to having mixed feelings about how much of my day is spent just keeping us from being under a foot of garbage. Within 20 minutes the sink will be full again with kefir smoothie (our morning snack) remains. The table and floor I just cleaned will have sticky spills of smoothie everywhere and the kids’ hands and faces will need to be cleaned again. And when I finish all that, I’ll have about 20 minutes until I need to start thinking about lunch. Nobody said this job was easy!

I’m blessed to have a husband who comes in from a 10 hour work day and goes directly to the sink to do dishes, then outside to care for the chickens, then inside to eat dinner and do the dishes AGAIN, then help put the 5 year old to bed, then fold clothes while watching a show. Literally, he does this Every.Single.Day. His help is probably why I even get those precious 6 hours of sleep!

Life on the homestead, I suppose?

More posts coming your way this week – much going on up in this noggin’ of mine…

Until next time.

On Father’s Day, I see a lot of acolades given to dads and husbands who no doubt deserve such honor.

But there is a flip side to this, as with any holiday. There are men who struggle with fatherhood from the moment they wake up each day to the draining energy of a child’s constant needs. Men whose own fathers weren’t there for them, who have no road map and whose own love tank seems to consistently run low. Men who battle ridiculous amounts of personal obstacles to muster up the courage and capacity to share a quick hug with their children; who, despite their deep commitment, love, and appreciation, have great difficulty expressing such sentiment.

I can imagine on a day like today, seeing all the men who make that job look easy recognized feels a little bit disheartening. I experience a bit of this on Mother’s Day – always have. Growing up without a mom, making cards in class to honor them was one group activity I did not look forward to. Now a mom, this day sometimes reminds me
of my own failures in this area of my life and indeed how hard the role is at times.

The truth of the matter is that all of us are broken and bruised. The ideals associated with words like “family”, “mother”, and “father” may bring on feelings of nostalgia and gratitude — or heartbreak and disappointment — or all of the above. (We are beautifully complex creatures.)

It may be that, for you, feeling any sort of personal pride on a day like Father’s Day is totally remiss.

So let me be a different voice today, to tell you that no family is without mess and struggle. That we all have our ups and downs, our hurts to heal and our ideals to live up to.

Take a deep breath and know that God is intimately involved in the business of recovering and redeeming, and personally showing us who the only truly Great Father is. It is in worship that we become our true selves.

Peace and comfort to you this Father’s Day.

To my sweet: I love you more than words. Thank you for every moment that you seek Truth and try harder to rise above the past.

I’ve been hoping to find time to blog again soon, but even when time was found I was unsure where to begin. A lot has happened in such a short amount of time and I’m still processing much of it. Some things are just so all consuming that the rest of life must very stubbornly seep through, eventually.

And that is one of the things I so admire about life. You can try to dam it back, close your eyes and pretend your floating in a lazy river, but we all know that nothing stops the current. It is defiant it its attempts to keep us moving. Thank God.

One of the markers of passing time in life’s great current is the seasons change. This Father’s Day weekend we’ll kiss Spring goodbye (is it REALLY still Spring?) and embrace full fledged Summer. Currently, the mosquitoes surrounding my home are holding us hostage indoors (and if you know us, that means WE ARE GOING PLUMB MAD!) and has me dreaming of Portland bug-free sunny months of bliss. But a few things make up for it, gently reaffirming that we ARE where we need to be (in no particular order):

For one, the fire flies. Oh, what I would give to be able to capture in photographs these creatures dance outside my window at night. I can hardly close my eyes when I lay in bed waiting for the next one to surprise me with its electrical body outside my window and drift this way and that. There are dozens of them floating outside at any given moment, lighting up the darkness like evening fairies worshiping the moon. Last night I even dreamed I went outside and scouted some glow worms. I’m downright enchanted with them!

For another, the community. The network of family and friends we have been welcomed into in just 4 short months (is that ALL?) is everything I hoped it would be and more. When breaking bread with loved ones, it often feels as if we have never NOT been here. I am so grateful for such a vibrant, loving, healthy community of adults and children to bring up my own in. The more I plug into the good people I have come to know here, the more impressed I am with their hearts and lives – all so very, very different from one another. What a colorful tapestry of folks!

Allow me to paint you a picture of my neighborhood alone: I have been befriended by a neighbor on one side, a nursery worker, single mom to two young boys – the kinda lady who will talk your ear off about Irises and give you the shirt off your back if you asked her (or even if you don’t!). Our lives collide with theirs in ways only nature could orchestrate: rescuing a young tortoise from the street, climbing trees together, or exchanging plants and seeds.

Across the street I am greeted by three friendly neighbors in a row, all of whom I see and speak with pretty much daily. One is a warm, funky grandma with a major green thumb whose home features a set of prayer flags (as does ours). She walks and rides her bike passed our home frequently, often with her two young grandchildren and dog accompanying her.

Next to her is the areas Rabbi with his family of adopted toddlers. He pulls up to his on-street parking several times a day blasting talk radio, mows his lawn shirtless (my, what a healthy sense of self you have!), and is another brilliant botanist. He can name you just about any plant you have and tell you more about it than you really needed to know. We made a greater connection recently, as he prepares to head out of town he showed us an area where he wants us to remove and keep LOTS of yellow lillies off his property, which just so happen to be underneath an apricot tree spilling ripe fruit that we are also welcome to collect. Yippee!

And of course, our sweet friends next to him are a writer and her partner, the kinda gals so genuine that they welcome being knocked to their feet by my 4 year old’s hugs when we run into each other at the Farmer’s Market. We’ve found deeper support from these neighbors than the rest and I have a feeling as I get the courage to join their writing group that we will become closer as time goes on.

Down the way are more families speckling the neighborhood with color and charm, some we know by name and others we don’t. Many who, like us, seem to strive to make their front yard their “Third Place” where community happens.

As I type, Ethan wakes up and without even asking for breakfast declares, “I’m going to the front yard!” His tree swing turns him into a super hero for awhile, and when that loses its novelty there are endless bugs to search for under rocks. I have to coax him back inside for eating, eventually. This morning might be harder than others, however: he has found himself a tortoise.

One of the nice things about living in the city is the walks through neighborhoods like mine. But then, the country walks – spotting bugs, flowers, and deer, presents a networking community as well. Yes, we dream of our little plot of land. A lot.

But more on that later.

In the meantime, some pictures of our in-town life this Summer:

Ver in the garden…

Pole beans reaching up!

Swiss chard, a colorful and tasty addition to our backyard veg bed

A new Summertime tradition: a Marigold Bath!

Ants rummage a strawberry blossom

Peek-a-booing amongst the trees…

Sometimes the best thing God does for us is nothing.

The sentence above was the central theme of the church community’s discussion last Sunday. Poignant for so many, I am sure. Certainly is for me.

The phrase has been said to me, in different words by various people and circumstances, more times in the last few months than I can remember. “Do nothing.” “Maybe just, don’t do anything? Nothing but what is needed for today.” “Stop doing…” or “Don’t just do something, sit there.”

So my husband has found work, for today. Also for today, the venture I had been so hard at work on planning (the play school), is unable to come to fruition at this time, in this house. In many ways, I am being forced to do nothing for the first time in a long time.

Which isn’t to say I’m literally doing nothing. Just that the pressure is off. I can hang the clothes on the line, make oatmeal, flip through my books, read to the kids, take long walks, do a little work as time allows… and otherwise just kinda… wait.

Wait, and dream, and hope, and plan. But not too much. Trying to not live with one foot always in “tomorrow” (a nasty habit of mine). Trying to be grateful for this breather, this pressure-free space. Feels so abnormal, but… I think I like it! Trying not to propel myself into the next thing, but rather see if the next thing comes along all on its own.

And it always does, doesn’t it? One of the few things you can count on is that, eventually, things happen.

Suddenly, with this view, my life becomes very small. The years that have lead me to where I am are very short (I’m only twenty-flippin-six, for crying out loud). The years I have to get to places I want to be are very long. There is time.

There is time.

The creation of something new is not accomplished by the intellect but by the play instinct acting from inner necessity. The creative mind plays with the objects it loves.

Carl Jung (1875 – 1961)

42 heirloom tomato have sprouted!

I remember reading about Carl Jung in my Theories of Personality class in college; his contribution to the concept of individuation played an integral role in my development at that time. When I came across that reading, it struck me. Wiki defines this concept as “the process through which a person becomes his/her ‘true self’” and further explains Jung’s belief that “Individuation has a holistic healing effect on the person, both mentally and physically. Besides achieving physical and mental health, people who have advanced towards individuation tend to be harmonious, mature and responsible. They embody humane values such as freedom and justice and have a good understanding about the workings of human nature and the universe.”

Along these lines, it was notable for me to learn about Jung’s idea of artistic expression as a healing outlet; “art therapy”. He spoke of creative expression as a means to becoming whole.

Ideas that, for me, rang very true. Since as far back as I can remember my life, I have sought to express myself creatively. This doesn’t mean I was ever a master at a particular art form, no. But the countless drawings, books, and poems collected throughout my childhood reflect my desire to be constantly creating something.

Being a creative being is, I believe, at the very heart of being human. It is partaking in something divine – the way in which we were created in God’s image. We are compelled to be co-creators with Him, even when we are completely unaware of it.

There is a harmony I feel when I am creating. It doesn’t matter if I am painting, writing, decorating a room, gardening, tending animals, cooking a meal, laying out a flyer, designing a website project, knitting, sewing, singing, strumming an instrument, taking pictures, building a fairy house with the kids – the medium is not what is important. What is important is that what I am doing is tapping into that limitless part of me that constantly accepts the challenge of a new creation, despite the time, energy or frustration involved, simply because the activity makes me feel more alive. And having children – rearing a family – what more glorious display of our co-creating privilege can we find? I am in awe of this often.

Creating is a spiritual act – one I can feel more acutely when working with natural materials – and without it in my life I begin to get all backwards.

At times I chastise myself for not having a more practical work ethic. For not being able to clock in – clock out at a job, regardless of the ease or pointlessness of the daily tasks, for the sheer result of a paycheck. Believe it or not, I admire those with that ability. Even in the most dire pinch, such work feels like madness to me (this is not an exaggeration – I believe I literally begin to lose my mind!). Without some element of creating happening, I feel panicky, straight-jacketed, and desperate for distraction.

Our family is at a shift, (life is so full of those, isn’t it?) and I find myself drawn to make some changes in my work life and load. While I await the unfolding of Chris’ next path, as he looks for work here in Fayetteville, I know this is an opportunity to fine-tune and adjust many of my personal goals and our goals and values as a family.

As always, I want to work with great flexibility for the sake of being my children’s full-time caregiver. But as Ethan enters Kindergarten age as a homeschooler and Verity is a walking almost-toddler, I am finding the need to revamp my priority of them, much more so than in previous years. This is a very high-need phase of their lives, one that will be over in the blink of an eye, and this fact weighs on me every single day. I don’t want to miss out on their childhood because I was stuck behind a laptop or too tired from a late work night to engage life with them. It breaks my heart, actually.

This shift will entail getting creative (there is that word again!) about how I co-support our family financially, how we make and spend and save money, and what our priorities are. From getting more self-sustainable, to finding ways I can cut back my “laptop” hours in favor of more holistic, integrated work-from-home-mom ventures. I am so eager to share my ideas, but for now I will continue to work them out and see how things shape up over the rest of the Spring. In the meantime, I am trying to stay the course with various jobs that have begun to dry out creatively, as the economy forces more and more companies to budget down to the nitty gritty tasks with little room for initiatives and creative projects. Luckily, I have amazing colleagues which help make the grind worth it. And on the side, I am getting my “fix” for creative expression through hobbies, knitting Verity’s birthday sweater, taking a photography course (will be starting a separate photoblog soon!), starting a nature journal, pen and paper journaling (something I haven’t done in years and years), and dreaming of the day I’ll finally write that book.

So there ya go. My courageous share…