Sunday, January 15, 2012

intermingling with voices, patterns & coffee.

What starts in the morning, swirling steam through the inner thoughts of this space. This writing.

When I say that I am strong, I mean this: I have been broken in a thousand pieces. I have been fused back together by grace.

When I say that I am treasured, it is because I am loved deeply. Completely. Unceasingly.

In the 14.5 years that I have been married, I have said things I should not have said, done things I should not have done. I’ve ripped him with barbed sarcasm; I’ve let anger win over love.

But also, I have stayed in this thing all the way. I have sat cross-legged on the living room floor until we worked it out. I learned how to cook his favorite meals.

Our jokes are getting a little frayed around the edges now, but we still laugh, doubling over in the kitchen over something not-that-funny, while Azaelea runs in circles around us.

Every Sunday night, I want to plan the week’s meals. Healthy meals. Good meals. Recipes I’ve perhaps pulled out of glossy magazines. I want to make detailed grocery lists, painstakingly noting each ingredient. But I have to try.. have this extra effort. Because around four o’clock on Tuesday, the beginning of the week, I realize we are out of milk, lunch was wasted and I forgot to buy pepper, so we have frozen pizza for dinner :: picnic-style in the living room instead.

The kids are hungry, and I am trying to finish reading an article, tweet a blog link, jot down a beautiful sentence. I am always saying “Just a second.” I am always multi-tasking, always letting someone down, always a little bit unbalanced in my priorities.

But I can’t stop spinning the words under my eager hands, because this is my calling too, just as I am called to hold these children, teach them, wipe their tears. I get up when the world is still dark. Start their breakfasts. Pack school lunches. Drink too much coffee. I write imperfect things.

I try to knit with my Grandmothers needles & wool and it looks a little off. The quilt she made years ago will never be mimicked. The squares don’t quite match in all the corners; the hurried seams are coming undone. But a son naps under it anyway on Sunday afternoons, his breath peaceful under this threadbare display of love.

We are drinking wine while the dishes sit, unwashed in the sink. I am sitting with Daryl watching a movie instead of catching up on laundry. And it might seem like the bread of idleness, but I know better. I am learning that what seems like waste is really love.

Azaelea reaches up first thing in the morning, says, “Mommy, hug.” I walk in the kitchen and Kai smiles like the sun, and this is how they call me blessed. Ethan and Asher beam over clean socks & full bellies. Daryl puts his arm around me as we walk, and it’s a thousand words of praise.

When I say that I am noble, I mean this: crow’s feet and stretch marks and orange hair, with strands turning white with age. I mean that my floor is covered in crumbs. I am still choosing the same outfit three days later, still trying not to nap at two in the afternoon. My kids are wearing worn out jeans to school, & they like them that way.

I mean that I am enough.
Just like this.
Just as I am.


Kmarie said...

This should be published under God breathed equality and beauty. What an astounding perfect piece of empowerment. My son says to me, " i like it when you have smiles - it makes me feel good." I feel this way too in this post ( minus the knitting- I have other things.;) but it's so wonderful to hear it in others. Women need to share and hear more of this confidence and serving assurance.
Thanks for sharing;) I'm going to read the beauty inspired words again.

Colleen said...

Alicia...beautiful. I am at a loss for words. Your writing is simply beautiful.

Grandma K said...

a contented wife and mother, an honest wife and mother.....

Thanks for sharing so beautifully and honestly. Keep writing!

beth@redandhoney said...

This is breathtaking and soul-stirring. Thank-you for sharing your heart.

just sayin' said...

wonderful! just wonderful. Much the way I'm feeling. Your words are eloquent! Love you!

mikki roo said...

This is beautiful, Alicia! I can so relate... love you girl!

The Tea Bag said...

You are more than enough ...
Because He
is more than enough
And you allow Him
to knit the fraying pieces
Not imperfect; rather
telling a story
of from and to

The original objet d'art
was beautiful
in its self-contained way
a million broken pieces
put back together
catch more light
reflect more beauty
than one
smooth cold surface
Funny how life works
Funny how you work
Funny how He works ...

Anonymous said...

This is AMAZING - made me cry..... thank you for sharing!!!

Dea said...

LOVE this. Thank you. it and the expression of you and all that is woven within it, in so so so many ways. It's funny, I actually just wrote down to write you, but now I'm just going to 'soak in you' for awhile, and write you later.
So beautiful. Beauty begetting beauty.....

Sonja said...

What it means to let yourself be...I hear you sister.