centering Saturdays

When Henry was an infant this day of the week used to be mine for imagining what being at home would look like--trying to pack so much domesticity and mother love into a single day of the week.

No more! Now Saturdays are my day for all sorts of things: cleaning (maybe), cooking (hopefully), dreaming (sometimes maybe too much), sweating as I blog (oh, the toil!), staring down at my dirty feet while I wear a silk skirt and think about my daughter asleep on the bed and my son tucked away in the basement, how we're going outside soon...I hope, how there is so much to do, so, so much to do, how summer is here and it is hot, even with central air, how peaches purchased at Walmart can still taste good and summery even though they don't embody the food practices I aspire to keep.

How down time, unstructured time, has since childhood helped my soul to form. It is the best therapy I know, helping angers to subside and constructive problem-solving to take firmer hold. I wish I could show a photo of every lived-in corner of this house. It is a good place and also a place in need of cleaning and prayer. There are comfy baby spots, clean laundry spots, puzzle spots, hard-edged toy spots, dusty corners stacked with piles of good intentions.

It is time to rise from this place and take hold of the time I have until Anna wakes up. And as I go I remember this very, very good poem.

more photos

Before she and her family left for a 14-week sabbatical, Yolanda took these pictures of Anna and the rest of us. I'm so glad she did. There's more to share, and I may finally get some photos sent to family far away.

Ahh. It's all worth the effort. ...And it has taken quite a lot of effort!

a summer afternoon

Saturday afternoon was warm and fair...one of our first long afternoons in the back yard sun and shade. I thought my children were not able to fall asleep without parental support, but Anna is content as can be outside staring up into the sky and branches. She lay on her lambskin for an hour, gazing and sleeping, while I planted some seeds and tended to some of her brother's needs.What a gift she gave us (and herself). It was a lovely afternoon.

remember, remember

As Anna cries to request my help in getting her into her morning nap groove, I'm not always aware she's making the request. I get annoyed. I look at the piles of dishes and laundry, at the piles of bills and papers to file, at Henry, who needs some attention, too, at my disheveled image in the mirror and think, "Baby, be quiet! Let me put you down."

What she needs is just the opposite. Today I carried her in a front hold, feet crossed lotus-style (Henry liked that, too). She calmed right down as I proceeded with my morning chores, wanting only to be taken along. Before I knew it she was asleep. What a privilege to carry a baby. A year ago I had just learned that I might become the mother of a second living child. Wow.

Remember, remember
the sacredness of things
Running streams and dwellings
The young within the nest
A hearth for sacred fire
The holy flame of fire

This Pawnee blessing comes from a book by Andrew Harvey (love him) and is excerpted here.