mama's day

This past Sunday was the most lovely Mother's Day I think I've ever had. Mother's Day has been kind of tough for me over the years. I inevitably have high expectations and end up disappointed. More than one Mother's Day has seen me childishly crying over perceived mistreatment from my family that I love and serve (and love to serve!) year round. 

And I hate that about myself! The day after Mother's Day has often found me feeling guilty about my own bad behavior. 

{Questionnaire by Elisabeth}

{Questionnaire by James}

{Questionnaire by Fiona}

But not this year! The day before Mother's Day, I graduated from biblical school, and it was so exciting that I actually forgot about Mother's Day. When I woke up Sunday, I wasn't even thinking about it. So I was happily surprised by two cups of tea brought to me in bed, the cutest and funniest questionnaires from my sweet children, a yummy breakfast, and then church, a simple, quick lunch, and finally, the best part: a spa and movie in a little "town" my children set up in our living room. After my feet were soaked and lotioned, we sat down to watch the movie, complete with popcorn and my recently omnipresent crochet basket.

It was really, really lovely. I have no hesitation in saying it was the best Mother's Day ever, in part because my children took ownership over it this year, and in part because I didn't create unrealistic expectations in my head. And in the end, I'm so grateful for my sweet family, which is what it should be all about.

Springtime

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Spring is such a short season where I live, just a brief transition between winter and summer. This year has been an especially lovely (if short, as always) spring, with so many trees showing off their best fragrant blossoms. We were fortunate this year not to have a late-enough, cold-enough, heavy-enough snow to ruin all the blossoms before they had the chance to bloom. With Easter being late this year, spring has felt especially delightful, almost like an indulgence! 

{Silly faces on Easter morning.}

With it, spring has brought piano recitals, and baseball, and fairy houses, and outdoor meals (as many of those as we can manage!), and my graduation and Mother's Day this coming weekend. Every season has its own sweetness, doesn't it? 

Water without price

“And he who sat upon the throne said, ‘Behold, I make all things new.’ Also he said, ‘Write this, for these words are trustworthy and true.’ And he said to me, ‘It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give water without price from the fountain of the water of life. He who conquers shall have this heritage, and I will be his God and he shall be my son.’

Come, Lord Jesus!”

— Revelation 21:5-7, 22:20

Today instead of bringing our customary May Day baskets to family and friends, I had the final class of my four-year biblical school. We closed our study with the close of scripture, the final chapters of the Book of Revelation. When we got to the passage I've quoted above, the floodgates opened and tears began to flow freely. It was as though, at least for a moment, all the questions in my life had been answered and all of scripture was opened up for me in these verses. It was such a beautiful moment for me, and such a moving way for my four years to end. I will officially graduate next week, but today was really the culmination of our study. It was such a big accomplishment, and it was difficult for me at times, but I'm so grateful that I've completed it. 

This spring is a big one for our family, with my graduation next week, and James's First Holy Communion last week. He was so sweet, and earnest, and reverent that day. It was such a blessing to us all. 

I made him a boutonniere using ranunculus and some little white flowers (chamomile? I don't know), as well as apple blossoms from our tree which is blooming more beautifully this year than in the last two that we've been acquainted with this house. It has all seemed so very auspicious. 

In a new space

As I begin writing in a new space, I'm thinking about what blogging has meant to me over the years—I first began blogging about ten years ago now—and what I want it to look like going forward. 

I'm feeling just a little bit shy writing here, a little bit like I haven't found my voice yet, though I've been writing in a blog for such a long time. This move is something I've been considering doing for just about exactly three years, but I was apprehensive about it at the same time. 

I've been thinking a lot about this post, written by one of my very first close blogging friends, for several weeks now. With her permission, I wanted to quote a bit of what she wrote, because she said exactly what I've been thinking and feeling. 

“I’m thinking about the story I want to tell, both to myself and to others.

Essentially, I want the life of my family to be relevant, not necessarily to a wider audience, but to myself. I want it to be aesthetically pleasing. I want it to act as both record of our time and creativity and as a reference for myself. I want to inspire myself, but I want it to be useful, too.”

— Kyrie Mead, Mead and Daughters

When I first got into blogging, I was doing it for me, mostly. I wasn't thinking about growing an audience, but I did. For a time, I was writing for thousands of readers. Gradually, as I was unable to keep up my pace, those thousands of readers began to move on, and I began to be there even less. But I have missed it, too, the process of writing, the journal of our days. 

My life is a little different now. Our family has grown. Our older children are busy and fun and challenging in ways that they weren't as little ones. I've said many times that I feel more comfortable, in my element, more me, with little ones. My older children perplex me. 

My husband has not had a "real" job in almost a year. We have been getting by on nothing more than the grace of God. It is one day at a time. Our needs have been provided for, but it has been very difficult. I'm in my mid-thirties, my husband in his mid-forties, and while most of our peers are moving into bigger homes and thinking about seriously funding retirement accounts, we are starting at square one. I'm stressed about that, and it's hard to put a pretty face on that kind of fear and stress. 

But I have to. I have to reclaim my will to live purposefully or I will be adrift. No one else can do the work of sainthood for me. That's my job, it's the gift I've been entrusted with. It is my grace.