The smallest of uplifts

I was just dusting, a chore I actually like but have outsourced to my kids over the years.  However, because we’re still working on some things in our family, the dusting doesn’t always get done and so I decided to work on the past weeks’ accumulation.  Normally over the years I’d simply use a damp rag (because I’m both cheap and trying to avoid chemicals but to be honest I’m super inconsistent with both…).  But I was helping on a project earlier this spring and came across a dusting spray that is both natural and intoxicatingly deliciously-scented.  I soon relegated that happy dusting morning with that lovely spray to my memory as a nice indulgence but unnecessary in my life and moved past it.  But later I decided that for $3 over the span of a year (or more, most likely, considering how lame we are at getting around to it) I would splurge. And what a happy treat!  I love the smell on my cloth, wafting from room to room, leaving its little lingering remembrance trail. Sigh.

Likewise, for floors I have generally used vinegar or ammonia, old school, cheap, efficient.  But (this is where I’m inconsistent) I’ve always loved (*loved*) the smell of Mr. Clean.  So I started buying my own little bottle every now and then when I was feeling like a little splurge; and, just like that, the simple task of mopping has elevated itself in my eyes.  Such a small indulgence, a little brightness to an otherwise monotonous chore.  (And please don’t tell me how bad the chemicals are for me or that I’m killing the environment and that clean doesn’t have a smell. I already know.)

I love the candle I found in an antique shop over the summer.  I did buy myself a yummy one last Christmas for my birthday, a rare luxury to be sure.  But truly, it is a dream to have a beautifully-smelling house even for a couple of hours (till it’s time to cook up garlic for dinner).  My 13 year old noticed it right off yesterday, something like pumpkin and fall and apples.  I know!  It made me happy too!

I bought myself a tablecloth this week at Target.  I have done that now three times in my life so far.  Once was for a prom dinner and the other was earlier this year.  I felt guilty both times that they were just for fun.  And yet for less than $20, I’ve been cheered day after day after day, thrilling every time I’ve come into the kitchen.  The one I got yesterday is versatile, our favorite look, sturdy and practical.  (I hate cleaning the grooves in our table, a milk and crumb cesspool/graveyard.  We use our table a lot, and so I love, love, love my tablecloths!)

I love that my family noticed that I’d put out our fall things.  We don’t have many.  The house is kind of spread out, so we have to make it all stretch.  But they are so cute to notice the few leaves and pumpkins that appeared while they were at school.  I love just sitting in our living room taking it all in, whether I’m taking an afternoon siesta or gathering with the family for prayer at night, just feeling fall.  I’m so glad not only for these moments of peace between activities, but it makes me happy to have created a little warmth for our family as well.

I’m not afraid or even embarrassed to admit I’ll have a couple of cookies most days after lunch (if we have any).  Another small but fun little treat, but especially if they’re my copy-cat Great Harvest ones with whole wheat flour and molasses, delectable!  I forgo any guilt, remind myself this is why I work out and buy loose shirts, and just enjoy the moment.

It was earlier this morning, after a rambunctious welcome-to-your-new-day stint, that our ten-week old pup climbed up on my lap and rested his tiny chin on my arm as I typed here at the computer.  Such softness! Such warmth! His cocooned body fit perfectly in my arms.  I needed to get on with my day.  It was 7 and Todd still wasn’t up, we had things to do.  But I lingered.  And I just did it again now.  We just sat holding each other, looking at each other. And just soaked in the coziness of the moment, content and unrushed and undeterred.

I remember many mornings and moments just like these over a decade ago when little Bronwyn was home alone with me while the older kids were at school.  She’d be playing quietly with her cars while I’d be taking care of the breakfast dishes and often she’d just come up to me and petition me, “I want to cuddle.” I knew instinctively these were pivotal moments, ones I needed to pay attention to and not just brush aside or put off.  Inevitably I’d have to extricate myself from the rubber gloves, but then we’d head to the couch, she’d crawl on my lap, and I’d just hold her.  Mostly we didn’t do anything at all.  Just held on to each other and breathed.  It melted my heart every single time.  I rarely do things as a mom that I can look back on and assuredly feel like I got it right.  But these are memories etched in my mind forever, and I can definitively tell you that I was doing exactly what I need to be doing, that these tiny moments together were perfect.  Now she’s a 13 year old 8th grader and a little more guarded.  Not that I don’t just hold her and hug her still, but it’s still a little different.  So I’m thankful for those nudges so many years ago that helped create closeness that would cradle us over the years.

I’m grateful for the few minutes I have alone in the dark of morning.  For the tiny glimpses of something bigger than me and my everyday life as I read, for the promptings I have to change things about myself and ideas that come when I’m less distracted and more focused. I thrill watching the sun peek its head, stretching quietly, just like my teenagers who stumble through a little while later, foraging for fuel. I’m so grateful I’m awake to see them, to just to be here.

This week I’ve been with friends in all sorts of settings, on the phone, in line, on a walk, at school, on our couches, in our kitchens, at xc, it’s been heavenly.  Just small interactions, a few were an hour or more, but some were just a few minutes or even just a quick hello.  But what joy stems from even these brief interactions, hugs and affirmations of common ground and friendship.  How grateful I am for these tiny bright spots in my days.

I’ve found myself standing on the gate just watching the chickens eat the watermelon and corn cobs I’ve just tossed to them.  I love their clucking voices and wonder what they’re communicating to each other.  I like to see them run with enthusiasm, eating with haste, enjoying all the morsels provided them, interacting and engaging in some secret code.  It warms my heart to see our animals happy, to pet our cows, to work up close beside them, knowing it’s safe, feeling calm and centered just being together outside where the air is fresh and relaxing.

I wonder if we’re living by the cliche to stop and smell the roses.  I wonder if we’re taking note of these tiny moments, our familiar relationships, the commonplace beauties, even smells and tastes of everyday life. I wonder if we’re really enjoying our pets instead of just shuttling them to the vet and their kennels and feeding them.  I wonder if we take the time to really sit with our kids and talk or just to be with them.  I wonder if we ever do that enough with our friends. I wonder if we appreciate what it a joy it is to experience life.

I guess I just feel like these are the atoms of our days, these tiny, seemingly insignificant moments.  Strung together, this is what makes life beautiful and worthwhile.  We don’t need to wait for our trip to Italy or for our kids to grow up or for our puppies to stop having accidents or for the chores to be done.  We can thrill in the everyday, the present, the bits and pieces of regular life.

And so I’m grateful my house smells inviting sometimes, even if it’s only when I’m alone with my cleaning rag; it lifts my spirits and makes me smile.  I love my little fall pillows, the few minutes in the darkening cold I spent last night in the raspberries. I love the planes that fly over our house every night right before 10, a soothing and habitual sound I’ve come to anticipate and enjoy. I love the calming spray of sprinklers in the summer mornings. I relished my little nap under a tree yesterday, the din of athletes and parents around me, the wind brushing past, all of it soothing me to sleep.  I inhale the smell of clean sheets and smile when the kids take time choosing just the right deodorant based solely on its fragrance. I’m thankful for the friends who choose to send a text just to say hi, who share their hearts and lives with me. I’m grateful for the sound of my college son’s voice over the phone, the jingling of our sleigh bells on our front door announcing someone we love is home. I’m so grateful for the whisperings—from both my husband and God—over the years reminding me to slow down, to ponder, to appreciate, to pay attention, to listen, to be present, to notice and indulge in the small wonders and beauties of everyday blessings, comforts, and moments. Because it has made all the difference.

What I love about Sunday

As we walk away from another Sunday, I have to assert that it has risen to the top of my list, I think even surpassing Thursday, as my favorite day of the week.  Even more surprising was hearing from both Todd (on our early-morning walk) and then Avery (on our late-evening walk) that Sunday has become their favorite day of the week as well.

But that hasn’t always been the case.  They both confessed that they haven’t always liked the capstone day of their week.  I elated in the fact that we’d come full-circle, that we’d transformed it into a day they—and all of us—look forward to now. 

I asked Todd about this, what made the difference.  He said it was basically his attitude that shifted more than anything; he just decided to look at it differently.  But he noted that it started way back when we were in college.  While I’d always liked Sunday, I agreed that it wasn’t till college that I really started appreciating it: a day without homework, a day to visit our friends, to sing in choir, to attend firesides and special programs in the evening, a day to talk long distance with my family, to write letters, to take a break from the work of the week.  All the reasons I still love it.  But with kids, it’s become even better.

For Todd and me, our Sunday still starts relatively early; but it being our one day with no immediate obligations, we luxuriously lounge till 6 or even 6:30 , just cocooning ourselves in the warmth of the down comforter, listening to the birds waken, the sprinklers spinning, and the leaves being pelted by the winds from above, a glorious symphony of young-day voices, beckoning us to both linger and to join them.  What a welcome to a new morning!

But we eventually get antsy and acknowledge it’s time to get on our walking shoes.  Sundays we can take the main road, a usually trafficked thoroughfare of vehicles on their way to and fro.  But this early on a Sunday morning only an occasional farmer is out on a four-wheeler.  A worker arriving for an early shift.  But not much more than that.  We walk 4-5 miles, just up the road, past the railroad tracks, and back.  We avoid freshly-squished road-kill from the night before and notice instead the deer, the birds, the dogs, the patterns of light, the clouds.  It’s intoxicatingly awakening and relaxing and connecting.  Probably the highlight of our day.

The minute we get home we turn on our Sunday music, the back drop for all we’ll be doing the whole rest of the day.  We love the peace this simple act creates in our home.  We all know it’s a different day because it feels different.  It’s never really Sunday until we have our music.

When we have later church, this is the part of the day where Todd makes us a full breakfast of hash browns and omelets and Avery’s Cinnamon Swirl Great Harvest bread.  But this year we need to be in the next town over by 9.  Most of the time we’re getting home from our walk around 8 and need to wake everyone, get ready, and be out the door by 8:30.  So this year it’s mostly cereal and toast, but no one complains; the kids are just happy for another couple hours of sleep.

Church at 9.  What could be cozier than being locked together on a pew with our sleepy-eyed kids who lean into us and one another, as they hold each other up? I’m in my happy place, with Todd’s hand in mine, my daughter’s head on my shoulder, my arm around another, as we all listen to my favorite kind of stuff.  I love singing together and just being together.  I love that we’re surrounded by such amazing people, men and women who mentor and love and teach our kids.  I especially love it when the kids hear something in a talk that resonates with them, either from one of their peers or from an adult they respect.  And even better, I love when they’ve felt something, when they receive a message for their heart.

By the time we get home about 12:30, everyone’s famished, and so we change out of our dressy clothes and pull out an assortment of leftovers, nachos, toast, whatever sounds good. We’ve occasionally tried doing our brunch of eggs and hash browns or waffles or pancakes at this junction, but it hasn’t stuck.  Still fun when it works though.

And then we have the whole afternoon and evening.  About a year or two ago we decided to curtail our Sunday company.  We wanted a more calm, quiet day just with our little family.  And so while we still occasionally have friends over for dinner, we try to limit it quite a bit.

Most of the family will take a nap.  Callum likes to watch a little nature show (the only rule we have about tv on Sunday is it has to be about Jesus or His creations—and just a short one; then we watch something together later on as a family).  We encourage the kids to not do homework (although that’s totally up to them).  Todd and I don’t work in the garden or even make jam, we really want to take a break from our everyday activities and we’d like our kids to experience this restfulness too.

At some point we’ll gather and do some kind of learning/service.  We talk about the week and schedule in everyone’s activities and coordinate rides.  We’ll write letters or use a journal prompt.  The kids will work on scouts or their Personal Progress.  If we have something going on Monday night, we’ll have our family home evening lesson at this time (last night it was on money/time management).  Sometimes we’ll watch a broadcast or conference talk.  Personally I’d like to spend more time doing these kinds of things, but I vowed from the very beginning of my motherhood that I would be careful about this and not push too much.  Still hard to not want to though.

Todd’s on dinner duty every Sunday.  So it’s usually something like roasted chicken, some kind of grilled fare (pheasant, deer, elk, chicken), or fish from our trips to Minnesota.  During the summer he pulls out the garden produce: green beans, potatoes, onions.  Yesterday he made applesauce with pears and apples from our trees.  Once in awhile one of the kids will make biscuits.  But I nearly always stay completely out of the way, truly my day of rest.  I’ll do my church stuff or take a nap or write our family letter during this time, heaven!

After dinner the kids clear and empty the dishwasher, and I do the dishes.  Todd calls his parents.  And then we go for our afternoon walk around the neighborhood.  We’ve done this every Sunday I can remember since we’ve been married when it’s been warm enough.  I can’t imagine a warm Sunday afternoon without a walk in it.  It’s pretty funny to see all these grown ups parading through the streets, sometimes 7 of us!  Even our guests join in; Todd and I love this bookend of our day, our second walk together.

And once we’re home for the night we’ll get in our pajamas and get out the popcorn and ice cream (we decided a long time ago that we’d do “Sundaes on Sundays,” but mostly it’s just ice cream with sometimes hot fudge and bananas—I’m routinely at Target during the week buying ice cream specifically for this night) and play games.  Then about 8 we’ll leave the shards of it all and head downstairs and huddle under blankets with our big bowls and watch a family movie together.  We started out with The Sound of Music and worked our way through as many Disney classics as we could find (our only rule was no animation and nothing modern).  We watch When Calls the Heart when the new season is on Netflix.  We’ve watched Andy Griffin, and lately we’ve been watching Anne with an E (which is hardest on me and Avery—we love the real Gil so much!).  I almost always fall asleep, but it’s the best kind of sleeping, entangled with the people and dogs I love.

After our movie we’ll say our family prayer and head to bed, leaving blankets and pillows and popcorn bowls and drinks and ice cream scoops all out.  It’s not pretty, but it’s how we’ve always done it.  And it just takes a few minutes when I’m fresh on Monday morning to tidy things up.  I read in bed for just a few minutes, something different from every day; Todd and I will cuddle and look at a magazine or talk about church and what we learned about there and things we want to do this week, who we want to visit or talk to.  We’ll try to connect with Andrew, and the two of us will huddle close to one little cell phone.  Heavenly.  And we’re so sad when it ends and we have to start a new week.

So I’m not sure if what we’re doing is for everyone.  But we’ve done this for a long time now and it feels exactly like us.  Yes, now and then someone will have a fireside or meeting at night.  Now and then we’ll do visits or drive around as a family and do deliveries in the afternoon.  Of course we still have families over and sometimes we’ll even end up at someone else’s house.  But mostly we try to protect our Sundays, to guard our family time.  Yes, I wish we did more service, included older lonely people in our days, and read more scriptures.  I honestly wish we could be better. I know it’s the Sabbath and I want (and try) to honor that, and so we’re making a concerted effort.

But here’s what happens when I start to get down on myself because we’re not doing more or when I wonder if what we’re doing is ok.  I think about the atmosphere in our home.  I think about where we’ve come from.  I think about our motives.  I think about our relationships with each other and with our kids.  I think about our intentions and our hearts.  And I feel like, for now, for us, this fits.  No, we’re not in our church clothes all day, and yes we watch some tv.  No, we’re not out among the poor and the sick as much as I’d like, but we’re building strong relationships within our family. There’s a lot we’re not doing, but there are some good things that we are doing.  I can’t discount the impact of lying on Avery’s bed with her, just talking (and sometimes letting her cry) for an hour or more. I feel like games have been the only bridge between us and at least one of our kids during his teenaged years. I’m not sure we appreciate the security this holy day gives us.  I don’t know if we see what a blessing it is to have hours alone together to play games and to make memories as a family. I don’t think we realize how much these simple traditions of worshipping and eating and walking and playing together strengthen us and prepare us for the week ahead.  

And so I choose to be grateful for our day to spend together as a family.  I’m glad our kids look forward to it as much as we do and I hope they’ll choose to make it a special day with their future families as well.  I hope they’ll take it to the next level and do more service and figure out ways to make it even better, but I think they’ll at least leave our home with close ties to one another and with fond memories of our Sunday traditions as a family.