Thanksgiving::Rituals

Well, we all know the highlight of the darkening days of November is often in the warm glow of a shared meal with family and friends, Thanksgiving.  Thanksgiving begins weeks before the actual day as we prepare the meal plans, invite the company, and simply think about food.  We anticipate the ritual foods of turkey, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, and pumpkin pie.  Foods that we may not necessarily think about in any other month of the year, but in November they rule our minds.  So this month I have been thinking a lot about food.  I've been pondering this human phenomenon of the intermingle of food, emotion, spirituality, and health.  I can't say that I've come up with anything fundamentally profound, rather I find myself reveling in awe at how ritualistic we are as human beings. So much so that right down the to way we spread or pile the whipped topping on our pumpkin pie can influence how it tastes to us, how our hearts feel eating it.  Rituals are important, they give us structure and add continuity to a life that is often full of change.  Yet, sometimes they can get out of hand.  Let's take Black Friday, which has spilled over into Cyber Monday, leading to Christmas decorations in the stores the day after Halloween.  These are rituals that are taking over our day to day lives.  As corporations push these buying sprees into our minds more and more often, I find myself standing back and trying to catch a breath of fresh air.  I hear myself telling my husband that I don't 'believe' in Black Friday.  It's not that I don't believe it's happening, rather it connotates that there is something more I feel in the air around this particular ritual that I don't want my spirit to be a part of; it's my way of expressing that this ritual is not my ritual.  Simply excluding a ritual, though, doesn't by any means make me a Christmas Scrooge.  The rituals that give structure to my celebration of Christmas are traditions my husband and I have developed over the years to both ease the sting of living far from family, and to bring joy and peace to our growing children.  Traditions that we try to do down to the specific, same gift the kids open on Christmas Eve each year.  They are rituals we have borrowed from other people, or ones we have made up ourselves so that during this time of year, when we all lean into the warmth of home a bit more, through them we can offer ourselves and our families meaning in an otherwise chaotic world.  May we not take these simple pleasures of time spent together, smelling wassail simmering on the stovetop, and laughing at one another's jokes for granted.  May we not yield them to the corporate driven profit margin that has crept into a holiday already rich with meaning.

A belated Happy Thanksgiving to you!  I hope your next weeks are full, rich, and true to what this holiday means to you.  PS: I just started a new book called, Birthrite, about humanity's need for nature. Should be interesting, I'll keep you posted.
  

How Change Happens

Do you ever feel like a lump of clay?  Like a New Testament chunk of earth waiting to see what it will be made into?  I do.  Most of the time I find life to be pushing on me and I am pushing back.  I'm not a happy-go-lucky kind of person, I'm not meloncholy like my husband, but I stand somewhere in between that.  I think I'm a fighter.  Not in the violent, boxer girl sort of way.  More in that I sense so much in life trying to change me that I need to stand my ground.  As a parent, a mother in particular, I feel this very acutely.  Not only have I seen my body physically tousled like the sea as it grows and shrinks regularly with childbearing, but to then have small, strong willed children that lean constantly on me not just to meet their needs, but to also help them grow often feels like some new shape is being pressed into my heart and soul.

Growth takes challenges, we challenge our minds and our hearts and our families to grow.  Growth means change, and both growth and change can be uncomfortable.  My 6 year old lives in this dynamic very loudly.  One minute he is so independent, and the next he wants to cuddle up and be my little baby again.  He is growing, changing, becoming.  Watching it happen so closely and so openly- he can't hide his feelings for anyone - I see what the New Testament talks about.  He's a lump of clay.  Yes, he came into this world shaped a certain way, and there is a stubbornness to him that I know will never, and should never change, but within that shape new contours can still be added, or revised, softened or hardened.  Somehow seeing it happen to someone else makes me look back and see those moments in my own life.  I have always felt a bit uncertain about the shape (I am speaking personality, emotionality) I came to life in, things about myself I know I cannot change, but seem to be just who I am, good or bad.  But then I see how circumstances have come about, disappointments, and achievements, griefs, and rejoicing that have led me to be who I am now.  And I want to lay on my back with my arms out by my side, feel the pressure of growth, and let change happen.  I want to be clay, being clay means endless possibilities are present, it means we can be made new, it means we are not stuck in the patterns of life we have always followed.  It is hope.  Our children are full of potential, full of hope, so are we.  We may have outgrown the tantrums (some of us) of childhood, but we can still be stretched, we can still live open to being remade.

Just catching up...

It has been quite some time since I have sat down to write here, so I will offer a brief synopsis of our lives.  After a busy summer full of trips to the beach, afternoons at the park, and watching my two children learn to be friends with each other, we have moved into fall.
Fall is my favorite time of year.  It speaks of crunchy leaves filling up lawns with their bright colors, warm apple cider, farmers' markets full of summer produce, cozy sweaters, and tall boots.  This fall has seen my oldest child off to kindergarten.  He was built for school.  A social butterfly at heart he has already made more friends with the other kids' moms than I have.  Watching him go the first day, to this new adventure, to a place full of complete strangers, he walked with such anticipation, readiness to take on what was to come.  A theme throughout my writing has always been a piece of what I find myself learning from my children.  And on this fall day, I glimpsed in him a courage that I knew I wanted to have also.  A born wallflower, social gatherings have never been my forte.  Always a bit intimidated by strangers, never sure what to say, and typically wishing I could just melt away, one of the greatest gifts my son has given me is more trust in other people.  Trust to be courageous, to hope that they too may be looking for a new friend.
Through this burgeoning independence of my six year old, I thought I was holding it together, being a strong mom.  Until one day he wanted to walk down the sidewalk by himself.  No holding my hand, no mom on the playground, just him, all alone.  And as I watched him walk off into the world, my mind couldn't help but foreshadow the future, the beginning of the end of certain strings that have tied him to me during his toddlerhood.  As moms, when the 3 year olds are pushing all of our buttons and we can't get a minute to ourselves, we often hope for this day.  The day the house will be quiet and we will have 'time to ourselves', when we won't be needed 24/7, the day we can begin to pursue our own endeavors.  So now, while I have moved one child into that world, my house is quieter and I finally do have time to entrench myself in the quadratic equations and negative exponents of my math pre-requisite as I begin to pursue a new degree.  Many days it is nice, but those moments when he reaches a new level of entering into his own world I mourn the times of cuddling him as a baby.  And while I know as a mother that bond will always remain, I also know that growing up is necessary, for both of us.  So while this fall has brought many cups of warm apple cider and crunchy leaves, it has brought something new, a new piece of fall that will always stay with us; the changes that a new school year bring as those little babies I once held and rocked to sleep begin to step out and test themselves against the world.  Growing, learning, and straining to find their place, just as each one of us has done in the past.  What an amazing journey to begin with them.
So moms out there, you hear it too often and ignore it too often.  So at the risk of sounding like a clanging bell or a bad advice column, I cannot press this enough.  Time will pass quickly.  Those babies will grow up, the issues will change, and soon your life will look very different.  So believe it, from a mom who is watching it happen and taking it to heart, those babies will only be babies for a very short time.  Those difficult two year olds will not be the same in a year.  Rejoice in the moment you have.  Live it, live every second of it and invest in those babies so that when they walk off to kindergarten, when they want to go all by themselves you can live in the bittersweet moment of time well spent, knowing that that child will come running for a hug when the day is over.  Those moments cannot be relived, but the closeness of family can continue on through all the changes.  This is your time to make that a priority.
Well this turned into a bit of writing I didn't know was in me, I guess my heart is trying to tell me something too.  So I'm off to pick up that six year old from school, get a big hug, and hear all about what adventures he has today.

I am a mom....and more.

I am a mom.  The statement renders either connection or distance.  Despite that it is a part of who I am, a part of how I experience womanhood.  I question it.  I question myself within it, as a mother- am I doing my children right?  I question how to bring it up with people.  I am proud of my children, but wonder if I talk to little or too much, when will the eyes of others glaze over thinking about a more exciting thing than just this mom talking about her kids.  Just your mom talking proudly about you.  My life flew out the door replaced by nights of tending to another human being.  Days of purpose replaced by tending to another human being.  Those persons will grow up, and someday bless me or curse me, that I can only control so much.  I am a mom.  Giving, loving, hoping, empty, starving, searching.

I wrote this to explore womanhood meeting motherhood meeting the world.  I have wanted to express a somewhat darker side of motherhood.  Granted there are intricate, fragile, beautiful moments raising children, but despite that there is a deeper side always wondering how to juggle the roles of woman, mother, friend, lover, and I truly believe it is a disservice to women and mothers to not acknowledge the joys along with the struggles.  It is a conversation of self worth in the light of daily life, and looking into the future. 

 I AM A MOM

I am a mom.

Distance

Connection

Glazed over eyes

I see you fading away

Questions

Questions

Questions

Will I fail

Or

I will fail

Never enough

And always too much

I am a mom.

Strength meets weakness

Hope dances with struggle

Sleepless nights

Bring on the

Unending days

Of

Questions

Questions

Questions

How do I give enough

Or

Do I have enough to give

I am a mom.

I am proud,

Do I talk too much

Or too little?

Blessings and curses

May come my way

But I cannot undo who I am

What I am

What I have become

Giving

Loving

Hoping

Searching

Starving

Wanting

To connect

With someone

Someone

Over the age of 5.

I am a mom.

Call me

Text me

Take me out

I cannot take another day

Of

Questions

Questions

Questions

Push me forward

Let me be

Who I was

And

Who I am

That I cannot be

I am someone

Someone

New

I am a mom.