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.