Mother’s Day will have come and gone by the time this posts, but the sweetness is worth recalling. I hope it’s also true for you.
I was able to start the day with a Skype session with my daughter, have an in-person lunch with my son and his crew, and end the day with dinner with a beloved cousin who rearranged her trip plans so we could share time together.
All through the day I was aware of how the smallest efforts mean so much, and maybe especially to those who recognize the gift of mothering and being mothered.
Texts and photographs and smiles and kind waitresses and the backstories of double shifts and kids at home and take your time—and knowing those three words are like an I love you to the world.
Flower images from extraordinary people who are not mine to claim, but who were moved to send them my way. The grandness.
Children’s handwriting and how a busy parent had to be patient while that was created…a precious moment.
A toast to the mothers who have gone ahead—and shared between grateful daughters at a leisurely and extraordinarily simple but beautiful reunion—To Life…
That waitress mom who happily took our picture and asked us for a funny pose, too because we all need to laugh more.
Amen, honey.
I know that’s more than seven…at some point, there is no need for numbering…just know.
Oh, here’s a bonus that really captures motherhood/busyhood to me. I wore black slacks yesterday…I thought. After lunch, I realized they were navy. Left them on anyway. The world spun on regardless. 😆
May all your clothes and shoes match this week, but if they don’t, you’re “up and at ‘em” and all is well. 💙
Another birthday in the books last week, and gratitude for family and friends who honored the day with special moments. 🎂
Granddaughters who are currently enamored with the magician’s code and how one keeps pulling all manner of objects from my ear. The best part is her reaction to my reaction…is there anything more joyful than a child’s laugh? Listen for that in your comings and goings this week. Notice it as the gift it is. 🪄 🎩
Wildflower bouquets. Receiving one and knowing these moments are simply a window of time. Children grow and become busy with so much; when someone offers a wildflower bouquet, I hope you recognize the gift of that. Added bonus: a child who agrees to a picture. That sometimes is fleeting, too. 🌸
Beautiful offering
Funny stories told and shared… 🤭
Daily routines and rituals…and freedom to choose how our days will run in the background of life… 📝
Spring’s gifts of puddles and purple irises this week. 🌧️ 💜
Knowing how to prepare a meal and realizing that, too, is worthy of praise. 🍽️
I hope in this month of April (oh, it’s National Poetry Month…I’ll add one as a bonus 😊 below), you’ll honor the gifts of your life. I hope, like me, you’ll never exhaust the list. The more you notice, the more arrive. 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟
A Gift
By Czeslaw Milosz
A day so happy. Fog lifted early, I worked in the garden. Hummingbirds were stopping over honeysuckle flowers. There was no thing on earth I wanted to possess. I knew no one worth my envying him. Whatever evil I had suffered, I forgot. To think that once I was the same man did not embarrass me. In my body I felt no pain. When straightening up, I saw the blue sea and sails.
—-
And, as all things are connected it seems, this poem reminds me of a young man who read the poetry of Milosz to me in Prague…and how that moment’s memory has always stayed with me.
Solo goose the last few days…so Mama is likely on her nest just out of sight…
Wisteria appeared in its purple glory, cascading like clusters of grapes among telephone poles and adding a shot of color to still winter shrubs…
Dandelions have come, too, and while some of you likely hate them, Sofia christened them wish sticks and we are happy happy to see we have plenty of chances…
I was able to participate in two granddaughters’ school event this week, and I’m always glad to see happy children, beautiful classrooms, and a whole host of people…ones who come to witness and celebrate handprints and seedlings and book fairs…
Speaking of celebrations, a dear writing friend received good news and will have one of her poems published this summer. When that happens and with her permission, I will post it here. How truly good to see someone following the call to write and earning deserved recognition. Good news lifts us all. May we have more of it…
Blackwing pencils…one came to me from the friend mentioned above and reminded me how the little things really are not little at all…
Well, let’s see. One more thing—-how about some lines from the nature loving poet Mary Oliver to send us paying attention into the new week:
This, from her book Upstream:
“Teach the children…stand them in the stream…rejoice as they learn to love this green space they live in, its sticks and leaves and then the silent, beautiful blossoms. Attention is the beginning of devotion.”
Looking for the first jonquils…it’s time. My phone’s record of memories shows there was a year when they’d be prolific by now. 11 years ago—abundance. I’m looking for just the first one. It will be enough. ✅ I’ll post the field from that long ago time, though, as a reminder to notice the beauty when it is presented…it can be fleeting.
Fleeting blooms 2013
Kid art ✅
Poetry sketching with a new group of students ✅
New routines adopted ✅
Good words—this week, from Michael J. Fox:
“And if you don’t think you have anything to be grateful for, keep looking. Because you don’t just receive optimism. You can’t wait for things to be great and then be grateful for that. You’ve got to behave in a way that promotes that.” ✅
Farewell, January. You gave me some good people, beautiful moments, necessary reminders. ✌️
I know it’s not really Sunday or the 21st, but here I am bringing seven good moments from last week, and maybe the day-date isn’t that big of a deal. 😉
Birdfeeders. Aren’t they glorious inventions ? The backyard was busy all week with eager visitors, and it was lovely to sit and watch. I had picked up an extra bag of seed before our little winter event that ended up being mostly sleet, and the birds were grateful. ✅
Parchment paper that one bakes bacon upon. Or slides cookies off of. ✅
Little handwritten notes on their way to people near and far. I know postage is going up again, but I still think finding real mail in one’s box is a lovely gift. Holding out hope more of us make a return to the writing of the letter. ✅
Stillness—I know being at home for several days might sound like punishment for some, but I adjusted to waking to no alarm, checking on the animals, feeding the fire. One of the days—lost track now of which—I read most of the day away. Little luxuries/no regrets. ✅
Speaking of reading… A Book of Luminous Things, edited by Czeslaw Milosz (his introduction and collection of selected poems make this a keeper of a book)…easy and accessible to dip in and out of. If you like poetry, I highly recommend this one.✅
Glass jars of my homemade vegetable soup in the fridge which brought my Aunt Mary to mind…and how she would bring jars of vegetable soup to her sister, and we would all enjoy it so much. Traditions/rituals/the carrying on of good simple acts. ✅
Waterproof boots—because the ice is gone, but rains have arrived. ✅
Here we are at Christmas Eve. If there is a better day in the year, I am not aware. So much preparation and possibility and power unfolding throughout the hours…
…and then finally, a moment when we call it ready. Maybe a few quiet moments with only tree lights and carols before daybreak.
We are at the fourth Sunday of Advent, and it’s rather odd to me that it falls on Christmas Eve this year. Then again, time expands for us to make room for what is needed.
I hope those of you who celebrate have moments to contemplate the many gifts in our midst. Seven here easily come to mind:
Family
Children singing Silent Night
Candlelight
Fresh cut greenery and berries in vases
Messages and messengers
That sweet collection of cards on the mantle
Traditions
Every year, I’m grateful to experience this season. This year is no exception. Regardless of circumstances and the reality of the world, here we are. Let us bring light.
Someone on Third Street has holiday lights glowing on their small and simple clapboard house. Just the window. A perfectly imperfect string or two of multicolored lights that invite us to breathe a bit easier, to see that even though the rest of the street is dark, this house is not. This house says I’m trying. I look for those lights each season…they will never know this. I wonder who is in charge of it: the decision-the effort-the untangling-testing of bulbs-how to secure-what will the electricity bill be-are they for a child-a memory-a continued tradition? I will never know. But as I made the early dark trek home… somehow those multicolored lights remind me as they often do, of simple efforts to try to make our spot a little better and brighter than it actually is. And it transfers to us.
We need that light. I know I do.
So, in praise of light and extension cords, and double a and triple a batteries.
For candles with real wicks and simple flames.
For messy abundance and effort. For being able to act.
I know sometimes these lists and stories are kind of like those lights. They are not ordered and they don’t always connect well and maybe they leave you wondering.
It’s ok.
Our efforts don’t have to be perfect. They are passing. Notice what you do and your intention. Notice the gifts of others.
There were many lights in this busy week:
Children took charge of a box of decorations and arranged things in ways I hadn’t considered. Better ways. With energy and immediacy and joy.
There was impromptu singing. Gift making.
There were hugs.
Some people gave me a free pass for being a tired human.
Someone sat at an art event with me and saw in my art what I hoped would be seen.
My violets are blooming in the side window, and I wonder how many days they’ve been hoping I’d glance long enough to see.
Chicken gumbo is simmering, and the house smells like celery-peppers-onions.
The trees are at a stage that is fleeting—-when I turn down my driveway, I drive slow these days…to remember those colors.
For a brief few minutes each morning, white tree lights in another room reflect onto a side window, and I take in that view before the day begins.
I’m still learning to keep it all with me in the moment. Somewhere on Third Street, a driver is passing a small house. I hope they slow down to see.
The calendar says fall. TX says where… but maybe by week’s end we’ll get a not 90 day. One must hope. Forecast says likely. 🙌🏼
Leaves have not been up to their usual autumn magic, but there are signs of trying.
Beginner
The garden spiders are busy and a few littles have joined in the naming: Sally and Izzy are still daily regulars, but Sunny Star Scout (fave name 🤩) must be otherwise occupied …we expect her return any day. 🕷️ I know all are not spider lovers, but these are my returners. Sally always sets up on the side of the garage. Izzy chose the dog food bin this year, but she waves a happy leg at me each morning as I gently get Ada’s breakfast without disturbing her glorious weaving. We seem to understand one another.
Sally
The days aren’t fall cool, but outside is bearable, so that’s the win. Little girls were joyful with jump ropes and sidewalk chalk and swings and driveway races. That’s good. ✅
Little boy wearing a cowboy hat greeted me at his house with “ampoline ampoline!” on his busy way to the swing and see saw and trampoline…then sat happily in the backyard dirt and sifted through his goldmine …stopping multiple times to bring me treasures. A child who notices. 🫶
Gifts from a 2 year old 🍂
I hung the pumpkin front door decoration, and as is my custom, also plugged in the white lights on my beginning tree—this year it will live on the sunporch where it’s already bringing us moments of joy. We have decided it will be our art tree. I’m looking forward to how it transforms by December. So much to be said for creating spaces that we enjoy. The days are busy. White lights in the early morning and late evening are luxury. 🌟
Beginning tree 🌟
Little things. Passing moments. Noises and silences and all the gifts those hold.
May your week be filled with treasures you are able to notice. ✌️
I heard from a student this week. She was a second grader in my first classroom 39 years ago. She’s gone on to make a career for herself as a nurse, and she’s living a good life. She decided to track me down (one of the few good reasons I can list for social media) and sent me a message to see if I was the Miss Sorsby she knew in 1984. I was. Still am to a degree. ❤️
We had a lengthy conversation through the app, and she recalled sweet and funny memories. Just know there’s a student you have impacted. I’ve been looking for you for YEARS. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
And, that, ladies and gentlemen, is an example of why some teachers continue for as long as they can. Thank you, Ebonie. Of all the things she mentioned, none of them were about curriculum. Teaching, I think, is really about the ongoing conversation we have with another…one that extends far beyond a single school year.
Anyway, it was definitely an uplift after a fairly long week…one that brought prank calls and a brief lockdown to our town’s schools. A week where I looked around once again and realized a lot of people really are unaware about all the roles a teacher plays.
But, as they say, time moves on and sometimes we are lucky that pranks are only pranks and nothing more. I’m not sure I can list that as one of my seven, but I’ll leave it here.
Onward to other days where grands were happy to see me in the school pickup line. Stories and comments shared that make me wonder if one day they will be tracking down their own former teachers.
Hugs, of course, make the list. And air kisses from Clara to her faraway aunt Rara…the mention of her name always brings that sweet response. And, how beautiful is that…to know a small child is sending powerful energy to another—-so often—-how rich to be a recipient of that kind of love.
The week brought special mail from afar and surprise flowers from a sweet loved one…people remembering a day 35 years ago when I said I do to a dear man who left us too soon. He left behind good people, and I celebrate the many days we shared…and am glad that others still realize that love transcends time. There’s a whole absence and presence philosophy that really does make itself known through time. ❤️
I’m not at a paralyzing grieving stage these days, and so that also makes this week’s seven good things. Life has been good to me for many seasons, and I fully recognize what a gift that is.
It doesn’t feel like 110 these first September days, so I’m also glad to say farewell to August, which seemed to hang around for far too long.
I feel like I’ve abandoned the passage of time theme haha…but that’s ok. I’m here. Grateful for this Sunday evening and a brisket to cook in the morning after a no alarm wake up. I’m grateful for the upcoming day off and paint to swipe onto a canvas, books to read, projects to work on, and the luxury of deciding who-what-when-where.
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