Tearful stains

Long, black lines of permanent marker stain the faux suede couch.  Each one - soaking in a white vinegar, dish soap, and water solution - resembles a drop of dew that sparkles on the grass in early morning light. 

One.  Two.  Three.  Four.  Five.  Six.  Seven.  Eight.  How did Ezra get to an eighth mark before I noticed?  Russell's skype persona held my attention; Joey's funny antics amused; even, the flickering fireflies caught the corners of my eyes.  But, Ezra's guile alluded me!

Have you ever been so duped, friend, into enjoying a moment only to have it followed with long hours of work to make up for a grand mistake or painful heartache? 

I'll be carefully blotting marker stains late tonight, while savoring a moment to see my love's sweet face.  Tears may creep into the soft green cushion while I dab rubbing alcohol on the fading fringe Ezra drew, but my two-year-old's happy smile will mingle with that ache.  And, when a final rinse and brush reveal - prayerfully - a faded if not erased repetition of lines, then I will sigh and give a hearty laugh in conjunction with Joey's jovial humor.

Perhaps you, too, can smile or dare-say laugh amidst your strife today, friend?

Holding hands

"Let 's hold hands, boys."  I grab Ezra's hand; Ezra slips his hand into Joey's sure palm; then, linked together like paper-chain angels, we cross the parking lot to the library's door.

Like a mommy duck's desire to line her little ones in a row as they wade through water, teaching my boys to keep together when we're near a car-frenzied place or in a crowd has been just as important as their learning to share, not to fuss when things don't go their way, or not do bodily harm to one another.  It's a slow process - learning to live in harmony with those we love.  How do you fare, friend?

There are times when I feel buoyed by the love of family and friends.  During these times, I cannot imagine the weary days that lap at my feet.  Do you know what I mean, friend?  Has love lit your life in an extra special way?

On the other hand, I often feel so disconnected from others that it's overwhelming.  Like sitting on the subway: each individual bundled in an invisible box that keeps bumping the one next to it as the train barrels through dark tunnels, I feel like despite the close connection between family and friends we are still so far apart.  Is it this way for you, too?

Holding hands with my little boys reminds me of the close connection I want to keep with those I love and that love me.  How refreshing that Joey and Ezra want to hold hands through a self-involved and fast-paced world.  My prayer is that it will last and so, too, your close friendships, friend.

Lovely lunch

"Lovely lunch, Mommy," Joseph exclaimed - a rarity in our household.  My 4-year-old loves bread, cheese, and certain meats.  He does not like sugar snap peas, plump and crisp; watermelon, juicy and sweet; or even fried potato cakes, milky yet crunchy.  And those were a large portion of the meal!

He did like the hot dog, though, sprinkled with cheddar and rolled in a tortilla.  And that is what made the meal lovely.

Ezra, on the other hand, gobbled the hotdog, savored the snap peas, slurped up juice with his watermelon, polished off a potato cake, and still asked for more.  So, I added applesauce to the smorgasboard of food on his plate, with which he was quite content.

Every meal to my two-year-old is lovely.  It is rare to find even one scrap left.  He simply enjoys food.

Do you enjoy food, friend, or are you picky with what crosses your palette?  How does that enter your daily life in other ways?  Perhaps you're hesitant to show patience or complete trust with everyone?  Do some people spoil your mood - even for food?

We all have moments of heightened blood pressure throughout the day.  Perhaps if we take a moment to balance ourselves with something lovely that heartens us, we will have more patience when the demand for it arises.  Take a walk through a meadow bursting with color, play a non-online game in which you interact with someone that draws out your heartiest laugh, cook up a flavorful treat to tempt the good mood in you...

What sounds lovely to you?

Rippling wine

Snot oozes out of Ezra's nose like a slowly-creeping glacier.  Forming a squeegee from my hand and a tissue, I gently scrape away the dribble, dab the clinging clots, and toss the wet cloth into the trashcan.  Sliding into the sixth day of head colds, we are all ready to be healthy again. 

Before colds, we endured an entire month of pink eye.  The inevitable domino effect applies to every illness that infects our family.  One person feels the fringes of the illness, then in a day or two another person falls victim.  By the end of the week, the entire family is suffering together.

Does the same ring true in your life, friend?  Or, if not with illness, then with relationships or events?  Do you ever feel that a single stone tossed in your general direction leads to a ripple of waves that crashes over your head, one after the other?

My mother always says that bad things happen in threes.  It does seem to happen that life events - both bad and good - tend to cluster.  Perhaps, friend, we should delight in the wine we can make with such clusters; share with a friend; and, toast to good health.  Then, whether bad or good, life's events can hearten our souls, just knowing that it is shared with those who care.

Happy heaps

A simple pile of blankets sits upon the sofa.  Velveteen and fluffy, each one provides more than warmth and coziness.  With the help of two creative kids, these squares of soft cloth become elaborate tunnels, the roof to a toddler-sized house, cushions for jumping into, and togae or capes.

With the vast array of kids' toys that are on the market today, it always amazes me that the most fascinating objects to my boys are often the most common.  Blankets, shiny pans, wooden spoons and whisks, a painted turtle crawling through the yard, a bit of yarn, tinkling bells, and books gallore.  These bring more smiles to their faces than most of the toys we have for them.

Life is like that for adults, too.  Think of what brings you true moments of joy?  For me, smiles on the faces of those I love, freshly blooming flowers in the garden, a colorful sunrise or sunset framed by deep blue mountain crests, and the magical beauty of transformation - the emerging butterfly, a cicada skin, the reawakening of a tortured soul.

How does happiness creep into your life?  Which simplicities matter most to you?

Perhaps you could share some of life's beauties with a friend that may need reminding of how much you care.

Authentic attempt

Imagine you are painting a picture.  The feel of the brush in your hand is comfortable and sure.  Bright white canvas, freshly gessoed, anticipates your masterpiece.  Vivid colors blot your palette and seem to whisper the elements of life: blood-drop red glistening, clay-rich orange red that clumps in calloused hands, yolky yellow that seems to cling like a cloak to fluffy chicks, greens that creep through an array of hues depending on the season, bountiful blue shades braiding skies and dancing along riverbeds, indigo stains like velvet twilight, purple plumes present on mountains, eggplants, and even dawn-breaking cloud-wisps.

Each stroke captures an intricate image from your mind, whose storehouse swells with memory.  Emotion creeps into the arrangement of color: some reverberate joyous occasions; others, hellish recollections.  But overall the picture is an amazing creation.  It intertwines moments in such a way that a grand pattern emerges in staggering complexity that appears with such simplicity.

Now, close your eyes.  Imagine what your painting would be.  What colors would bedeck your palette?  Which imagery would impress upon the viewer?  How would your life whisper from the folds of time? 

With a sigh and a smile, dare to really look around you: does the day dazzle your eye even amidst the trudgery?  Does your perspective need some readjustment to scatter inspiring prisms about you? 

Let yourself limn an authentic attempt at a life well-lived.

Myriad Messes

Lush soil pools into the palms of eager toddlers.  More dirt spills onto the tabletop than the containers for transplanting seedlings, brimming with the promise of smooth-skinned eggplant, tasty tomatoes, dark green zucchini, broad basil leaves, and sweet Mediterranean melons.  The bare wood floor seems to sprout a dark brown carpet under the footfalls of enthusiastic tykes.  I pull out the vacuum and vroom about the kitchen.

Joey tips a spout.  A stream of water pours into an advancing puddle, which threatens to overtake the available space on the table.  He adjusts the watering can and soaks the soil engulfing tiny sprouts, instead.  I blot the liquid spread with cotton cloths and ring water into the sink.

We return the trays to the covered porch, where sunlight slashes slits onto the baseboard, and keep them in a well protected location.  Ezra chases bubbles that Joey creates with a sticky wand.  Bubble solution trickles down the canister, crosses over fingers like cars over speedbumps, and drips onto the gray porch boards.  Inside, Ezra takes a turn and spills soapy solution on the floor.  Miniscule bubbles froth and foam as I wipe them up. 

Tension tightens my shoulder blades, then froths and foams inside like the bubble solution.  Motherhood is constant motion; there is never enough time to finish the tasks at hand.  Taking time to teach my sons life virtues and skills saps my own patience now and then.  It reminds me of the human propensity for messes.  Do you ever feel tension mounting and patience dwindling, friend?  Do you ever feel that there are more messes around you than not?

Each day holds ample opportunity to make a mess.  Sometimes, we moan and groan and make it worse.  Other times, in quietude, we clean it up.  Either option has varying results, depending on our bearing.  Sometimes, just pausing and reminding ourselves of the direction we want to take can make a huge difference.  A difference that, when internalized, can also impact the world.