November 14, 2011

& Today he is 12.
Happy Birthday Asher!

Day 14: A favorite movie.

With the platinum edition gift from last Christmas & many late nights babysitting years ago, I have probably watched this movie more times than my age.

"Nobody puts Baby in the corner."

Day 13: Something I am proud of.

Writing, perfecting that which I knit for friends & family. One day I will stock up & start a store. Though, right now I am enjoying the freedom to invest time whenever, in the next projects. Knit purl knit :)

Day 12: Three blogs I can't get enough of.

I eagerly read all the fast pace moves of blogs that I follow; from inspiring friends, on my blog-roll to your left.
<--------
May I introduce you to 3 new blogs added for their writers distinct personalities and eclectic lives they portray in writing & pictures.





Megan @ Sorta Crunchy





Kate @ Foxs Lane





Alicia @ Milagro Girl

Day 11: Something I've been craving.

The mountains. Clouds that loom over the peaks. The familiar wafts that travel with gusts of wind. Walking paths, hiking trails. & water.

November 10: What I love about my job.

{A view from here}



























Today I am..

:: marveling at a welcomed Chinook. The sun shining, & the wind blowing.

:: laughing at the daily quirks about *my job*.

:: overwhelmed, just a little bit, at the sudden mountain of snow gear this week-for six, at my back door.

:: pleasantly surprised by how perfect new knitted gifts are for my friends.

:: wondering what project to finish, next.

:: grateful for long naps, quiet hours to finish tasks, warmer days & moments to sip coffee.

:: hearing that a big Birthday is right around the corner. I cannot believe 12 years have flown by.

:: going to do my very best to resist more Birthday cupcakes this weekend.

:: planning more balanced meals for the week.

:: enjoying all the mentions of slow cooker breakfasts. For those cozy early mornings.

:: knitting, planning events, paying bills, shopping for holiday outfits all while I sit over quiet time with her, and listen to humming & small singing.

:: listening to Mylo Xyloto, Frou Frou, Delirium, & Sarah.

:: saying goodbye to Fall from the view of my drivers seat. Road trip.

:: being rushed by new projects, big and small.

:: happy to be more spontaneous, these days.

:: waiting for a delicious meal to come out of the oven.

:: being inspired to go out for a haircut.

:: wishing you all a wonderful long weekend.

Day 9: A close-up of my day.

The day started with a very favorite story reading.
An early morning gathering of women embracing moments together.


After school, in an attempt for a more peaceful approach to the evening, I paused with him (who will be 12). These times are comforting. He shows me the new layout for his bedroom. Shares ideas for jobs & birthday wishes.


Though he is drawing & writing, he is also taking time to look me in the eye ever so sincerely. "Mom, remember when I always looked down and away? I like making eye contact now, we have the same eyes."


& throughout the day taking snippets of time to work on this sweater.. being so very close to the finishing stitches.

Day 7: A song for the day.

This song is so beautiful,
Makes me Dream.
.
Scores of songs went through my head this morning, but not along with the right video: to capture the moments.. the memories.
This one still brings it all back.

Day 6: A book I am reading.

These days I am spending a lot of my 'just a little extra' time knitting.
Right now :: 2 books are catching my attention.
More last minute gifts.
It has become an inspiration for the handmade giving season.
& one thousand gifts.
Many have read this journey of thankfulness, of grace.. countless gratitudes. I am slowly embracing the words, her writing gently teaches how to slow down, turning pain into soul poetry.
Trusting God all through the moments.

Day 5: Three years ago today.

We were enjoying a family gathering celebrating Azaelea's First Birthday.

Day 4: A friend who I adore.

Tonight again I watch the western skies. The wind blowing sweet wishes of peace & well being to my friend, whom I adore. Holly.

She is part of memories that dance through my mind often daily.
Children lost in daydreaming about tomorrow, inside jokes, & endless adventures.

I think of her a lot & have wanted to write more, but am overwhelmed sometimes by feelings of.. how could I express the impact of our friendship?

The years are slowly floating by again in wait. She has held each one of our children, rocked them, loved them & invited us to grow within her family.. & I still wait to meet her two little girls.

When we were little & both had matching pigtails, I needed to know that her family was close. The months of each year where I would try to tell her my secrets, the only ways a little girl knew how, left me aching from the truth.

She was the only friend who witnessed my terror.
Read my eyes that urged her to.. run!
& she was the only one who could run home to the safety of her own home, to her parents.

When the heartbreak of losing all of my hair to a bowl cut happened, she would give me her favorite doll to hold, while I sobbed.
& then hold my hand and gently encourage me, "give it time, your hair will grow back."

The snow falls gently, watching the tender flakes, each unique in their intricate designs.
I breathe softly, memories of her.

She knocked on my door ever so timidly, all those (28 years) ago. The days were cold, brisk & I could barely feel my fingers or face as we struggled to pile wood, providing the only warmth of a child's version-prehistoric house.

"Do you want some hot chocolate?" Holly would ask.
"Yes Please!" My Sister & I would reply in unison.

I could feel her watching us as we piled that wood for hours after school, & all I wanted to do was play with dolls or hear stories read by her mom. If we were quiet as mice her Dad would let us tiptoe around the store & watch as customers came in for building supplies & rentals.

Dear Holly,
You have inspired me over the years with your gifts.
Memories of you remind me of this life that I live in the here and now,
how far I have come.
I love you.

♥ Alicia

Day 3: Something I never leave the house without.

Mini Sushisha bag. A well loved companion to hold it all.
Beautifully unique & handmade by .three.acorns.
Its perfect, the mini version of the original! I try to have the sushisha bag along with me everywhere. It holds all the needs for quick outings, long walks, & fiddly needs that the children ask for. Including but not limited to: strings, hair ties, lip balm, phone, wallet, loose change, extra underwear, pens, kleenex, scraps of paper, pins, mementos..
Something about driving solo.. There is a lot of time to think, process & just be able to have alone time. When I head to the city by myself for a few hours, it sits on the passenger seat so I have ready access to anything within it. It is also my little companion for quick stops & rearview mirror self portraits. (I am a little camera shy).

Day 2: Three inspirational quotes

Everything will be alright. That's Life when you're a pebble on the beach with no suntan lotion. {anonymous}

In the silent times : seek God

In the painful times : praise God

In the harried times : hallow God

and in the terrible times : trust God.

And at all times — at all times –
Thank God. {Ann Voskamp}

You have never really lived until you have done something for someone who can never repay you. {announcement}

November 1: Self Portrait

Today I am thankful for ::

•new beginnings
•gratitudes
•family celebrations
•remembrance
•spontaneity
•long walks
•chocolate chai lattes
•Movember

Taking this ideal time to follow along & join in a new month series :: over at So Fawned..

A Prelude: Streams In The Desert

Click Here: For Listening

A prelude post: written by Karyn. With a transparency that reverberated such as a waterfall, lifting the veil within my own heart and soul. Thank you.

I have been pondering the rainless desert for a couple of weeks, remembering how the earth - pounded by the relentless sun - starts to fragment, the little chips of dried clay curling upward imploringly, like a prayer.



Funny how fragment and fragile can seem so connected ...

Then at night the blistering heat can be replaced by the gusty cold, winds whipping the sand into the cracks where it chafes the raw cuts and gouges deeper. This savage change in temperature is a result of the extremely low level of precipitation which doesn't provide a cushion from the heat in the day, and which also allows the heat to escape very easily in the night.

Freezing ...

All creation groaning.

Waiting.

Hear the crunching of the parched land as it's trodden underfoot. Picture a thousand tiny fingers of earth being snapped by the steps of an unwitting passerby.

Fractured ...

There are animals that inhabit the desert, timid creatures that know no other life but to scrabble for their needs, to protect themselves and those that belong to them from the elements and to keep a weather eye out for danger. Meerkats, for example, always have a couple of their number on sentry duty at any given time.

Frightened ...

When you're in the desert you avert your eyes for fear that they will land on a mirage and you'll be given false hope. You view your surroundings through your peripheral vision because the intensity of facing them head on is too great.

Frantic ...

And then, when you think you can go on no more - when the pain and the loneliness and the disorientation seem to have reached their nadir - you spot a tiny, flame-coloured flower, peeking shyly from amidst the scrub.

"There is unexpected beauty here," the blossom whispers to you. "In this desolate place you can find peace and restoration if you know how to look, if you know how to listen."

"But I need water!" you whimper, wringing your hands. "There's no water here!"

"I'm here," the flower responds. "There are streams in the desert in the most unlikely places. You'll come across them at the most unexpected moments. Do what you do each day. They'll be revealed to you and your frail soul will find relief."

And so you do what you do. You knit. You love your children. You create beauty with your husband and you allow yourself to accept his adoration. You minister to others through a word, a song, a hug, a tiny blue elephant. You reach out with what little strength you have left.

Your groans add to the chorus of all creation's, waiting ...

Travail ...



You start to delight in the minute: a tiny green shoot here, a flittering butterfly there, a small glass of water offered in His name, a sick child who sleeps through one night.

Small mercies.

Transition ...

And you start to notice fine silver threads of water in some of the indentations of the earth. Not a river by any means; but after all, this is a desert and a stream is enough to sustain you when your tongue cleaves to the roof of your mouth. You drink greedily from the source, cupping your hand to dam the flow and scoop up enough for a mouthful.

Then with both your hands cupped together you carry some of the precious elixir to the flame-coloured flower, to the shoot which seems to have grown a little.

And you start to achieve a sort of peace, a sort of rest. The desert is becoming your abode. You wonder when it started to change, when it started to be less severe, less forbidding.

But the truth is, the desert has not changed; it is you who are learning to abide in the place in which you find yourself, you who are growing and stretching and accommodating and shrinking and contracting and setting boundaries to knit this strange beauty into the pattern of the cloak you will wrap around you for protection and for comfort.

As you journey through the desert you find that the once-feared desert in turn has become your sanctuary in this period of your life. And as you follow the trickle of water you discover that the stream will lead you through the desert to a river that swells and flows stronger with gathering force until it cascades into a mighty waterfall that thunders over the rocks and into the deep pool waiting to receive it.

Triumph ...

And you will understand that you were not alone as you sojourned through the desert: your good shepherd was there all along, protecting and shielding you until in his perfect time he leads you beside still waters to restore your soul.



Tranquility.

Celebrating 60

I watch the way you greet us, with hands out to embrace us. I have done this for years and always smile in my memory.

Our relationship: between You and I, over the last years, has worn in like lessons learned well, shoes walked miles in. What I have not said in more ways than 1 is:

Thank you for being my Dad.

You smile as the children run into the corners of your home, yard, & space. All the while they're trying still to make you laugh or show you proudly something they have created.
Thank you for always letting them, it

Speaks volumes to my soul.

I remember the first time we met in Chinook mall.
Too shy, happy & nervous, that here Daryl's family was all together, & I got to be a part of the festivities.

A Father you have been to my
Heart since that very day.
All families have Stories.
For some, such as myself, they carry truckloads of baggage.
I am sorry for my part in not sharing more about my life & I hope that this keeps paving ahead, as I become braver.

Thank you for helping to make the journey home shorter, & lighter. Loving wholeheartedly when it was time to celebrate our marriage. & the wisdom, courage and heaps of love you now share with (y)our (grand)children.
Happy Birthday, Celebrating 60 years!!

I love you, Dad.

Alicia

Creating a habit

I unravel sweaters to re-knit almost every time. Notes aside, if the sweater is not perfect, I start all over again.


It is an artful expression from deep within. Taking time for every little stitch, to be well thought through & presented with ease.


When my Grandma first showed
me how to hold the needles, we
would sit across from each other. Her right hand strong, my lefthand dominating.
To knit one scarf: Took over 7 years. & then over again as I tried to learn the
Art well.


As we waited by Grandma's side those last days of her full life, I would knit..for hours. Though she was right there & I by the bedside. The knitting brought those last hours of
Peace within our time.
Around & around we turn the full cycle, merry go round in life. No one knows how the inner workings of a brain works but as I found out today: being an ISFP personality suits these aspects just as a fine tuned piano.

Over the next weeks I am inviting Daryl to join me, to accompany my words with his own music. We will start on his Birthday. October 21. The day we met 16 years ago.
I am honored that he will be here in this space with me. If you know him, this expression is as much kept to the private inner workings of his life as the music that flows through to compose his Own piece.
The idea for this season is a reflection of
Traveling light..er.

Planting memory seeds

Today, in memory of lost little footprints, I want to take another day to enjoy building childhood memories.

You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body
and knit me together in my mother’s womb.
Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex!
Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it.
You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion,
as I was woven together in the dark of the womb.
You saw me before I was born.
Every day of my life was recorded in your book.
Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed.

Psalm 139

What if..

I had a nightmare once that I woke up with only my supper from the night before.
Sitting at the table staring at day old perogies, with nothing to be thankful for now..
What if I woke up without the children I have watched grow every day, some hours feeling like eternity.
Without the husband, who is a strong devoted, faithful father. Who I argue with sometimes.
Without the house, with the comfy furniture.
& the table that occasionally has a meal that almost everyone would rather not eat.
Without the bed that I have tossed & turned in and sometimes curse at how uncomfortable the pillow is, or loud the snoring is.
Without the mounds of food waiting for me to cook, even when I second guess my abilities.
There are more than a million things, or acts we can be thankful for.
When our neighbors are waking up from earthquakes, tsunamis, landslides, floods: They are praising the Lord for life.
Soldiers are not returning, leaving hearts aching.
Children are being stolen, tearing apart the consciousness & causing insanity that no parent should ever have to fathom.
Homes are being repossessed, leaving families homeless. Domestic violence is continuing, creating memories that torment children for a lifetime.
Stories being told of hidden lives, burning histories & daily grace.
What if we just woke up everyday..