happiness is ...

...a boy newly confident on his scooter ...

...who will hop off said scooter at the sight of flowers...

...and then carefully pick and arrange those flowers into a bouquet...

...a bouquet not for his mama, but for his scooter.

right now

Right now, I am :

:: remembering Easter a year ago, spent atop Doi Suthep, a magnificently gold temple outside of Chiang Mai, Thailand, and the fun and beauty we found in clanging the long row of prayer bells.

:: remembering also the Easters of our first married years, spent at a church in Pittsburgh, and particularly the tradition of bringing a bell to the service. These bells were muffled and quiet until after the Easter proclamation, and then were rung with abandon during the first hymn. Especially after the long vigil service, with its readings and darkness and quiet, the wild ringing was such a visceral way to experience Easter, exploding the sanctuary with joy.

:: refraining from stopping my boy from clanging the Easter cookie cutters I hung from the mantel, remembering that he, too, needs tangible ways to express joy and excitement.

:: hoping that our friends do indeed make it onto their flight from South Africa to visit us this week.

:: yearning occasionally for the lightness of our Hong Kong life, a lightness that didn't come from HK as much as from our transience, and a lightness that left more room and time in our lives for experiences, since there was so much less stuff.

:: thankful for the ways our life here is stabilizing and deepening: the little projects around the house, the growth of friendships, the occasional sighting of someone we know around town.

:: dreaming of, and planning for, a garden this summer! full of food to can and otherwise put away for next winter: tomatoes, cabbage, potatoes, carrots, onions, garlic. And a bean tent for fun. And chickens!

:: delighting in the sunshine of this Easter weekend, even if the temperatures didn't quite match the sunshine, and the colors surrounding me everywhere I look.

:: looking forward to leftover grilled lamb sandwiches for lunch.

:: listening to my boy sing sweet, made up lullabies to a new stuffed bunny.

:: wishing a happy Easter Monday to you all!

we could go for a hike

I was standing in the kitchen, furiously wiping the counter and listing off all the tasks I had yet to complete that day: bake a cake, take a shower, go to the store, clean the bathrooms, and about twenty more I can't even remember, that's how non-essential they were.
Matt listened, then calmly said, "Well, we could go for a hike."
And after I finished laughing and muttering something sarcastic about how helpful that was, I realized he was completely serious. And that he had already started packing a bag and putting together a picnic.

So with more than a few misgivings, I went. I went, knowing that philosophically speaking, this was a good thing. After all, I believe in going for hikes even when there's a lot to do. I believe in getting outside. And I definitely believe that we should look back at spring break remembering more than how many tasks got done. But I didn't really want to go until my feet actually hit the ground and fresh air hit my nose.

And it was great. Of course it was: scrambling over rocks, climbing on fallen logs, navigating new terrain. When Finn was a baby he didn't cry a lot. But when he did, if we had any trouble soothing him, we took him outside. Something about the fresh air just calmed him right down, and it still works today, for him, for all of us.

Here I am now, Sunday night, just a few precious hours of break left. I'm thankful for all we did over these last few weeks--visited grandparents, celebrated Finn's birthday with cousins, saw lots of old friends, hosted new friends in our home. And yes, lots of tasks got done too. But mostly, I'm thankful for the time outside: the hikes, playing in the sandbox, running around my parents' backyard, planting radish and spinach seeds. I'm thankful for the sun on our faces, for the dirt on our fingers, for the sand in the hair. I'm thankful for the treasures that come home with us, for Finn's newfound love of foraging edibles, and Willa's newfound love of pockets. I'm thankful for the way that physical space seems to give us emotional space too--breathing space--and how this can help tricky relationships be just a bit easier. Thanks be for this beautiful world, and all that it gives us. And thanks be for those people who help us remember to get out there and enjoy it.  

winter weekend

Digging in the snow, making ice wreaths, knitting in front of the fire, legos, popcorn ... what else should one winter weekend hold?

The weekend has been, and continues to be, lovely, it is true. And I am thankful for the very gifts these days have brought.  But I'm leery of a "today is all there is/seize the day" attitude, because today is not all there is. We live in eternity, but rather than feel panicked by that idea or narrowly focused on some conception of "end times," I feel freed to enjoy this day for what it is; time is made spacious. 

As Ann Voskamp says, "Maybe it isn't so much about carpe diem -- seize the day. Maybe it's about this: God uses the day to seize us. God carpe diems. God seizes the days: God seizes time and uses it as an instrument to transform. God seizes every moment to sculpt souls and shape lives and transform ashes into glory."

God uses every moment. Yes: the beautiful, ice and snow-filled ones, and the harder, headachy, teething, tearful ones. Because those moments were there too, this beautiful weekend. And so, in the variegated, silvery yarn I hold in my lap, in the tears of a child made beautiful in firelight, in the shining of the sun on snow crystals, I catch glimpses of poikilos, that many-colored grace of God, the grace that holds and redeems the gray and brown days as much as the brilliant, light-filled ones. May it be so for us. 

weekending

It was here, as in many parts of the country, an absolutely perfect weekend, and we filled it with all sorts of autumnal activities. This is the season we most missed while in Hong Kong, and so we are determined to soak it all in. From flying kites (the frustrationless flyer) to picking heirloom apples (with plans for pressing some of them into cider), from discovering buckeyes and gathering inspiration at a barn sale to making tomato jam (yes!) and starting work on a little one's birthday presents, it was just lovely. There was even a bit of seasonal decorating thrown in as well, which is a little funny since we have nothing on our walls yet. But there are seasonal banners, oh yes there are! Hope you had a lovely one too.

bliss

The sun today, finally shining, inspired me to great acts of hubris (of the running variety) for which I am sure I will pay tomorrow. But oh, to pull on my shoes, tie those laces, and then set off alone .... bliss. Even if I couldn't get "the ants go marching" out of my head.

feeling thankful for ...

:: the resurrection of a long, rainy day provided by good rain pants and boots.
:: sunny days for hanging linens that ended their journey from Hong Kong smelling rather musty. Really, not pleasant. We need more sunny days, too ... I'm not done yet.
:: the wonder of homemade ketchup (yes!) with oven-roasted fries, made with tomatoes from the school's garden ... at last, a tomato product that Finn will eat.
:: the apple-sowing journeys of John Chapman (better known as Johnny Appleseed), to whom we owe a debt for starting many of Ohio's apple orchards. Did you know apples aren't native in the US? And that the first orchards started by the colonists failed because of the absence of honeybees, also not native? Many of these orchards today grow direct descendants of Johnny's apples, my favorite being "Rambo," a name that just makes me giggle.
:: a clogged milk duct. Yes, I know this is a little perverse, or maybe even tmi, but really it's just a good reason to put my feet up and relax and let Willa do her thing. Go Willa go!
:: Burton antiques festival ... a long morning of me-time that resulted in the discovery of several just right organizational pieces, already making our porch and bedroom work so much better.
:: the beginnings of color on the trees! This, my friends, I have missed so much the last three years, and I am thrilled to see it again. Fingers crossed that the rain doesn't just blow all those leaves down early ...
:: unpacking the final boxes. We are so ready to move on from this stage of "moving in."  I think I can, I think I can ....