carry your bucket
to the water well
lower it in
hear it fill
now pull it up
feel the weight
feel the cool
as it sloshes a little
down the sides
and onto your hands
carry your bucket
home again
hear the water move inside
feel the handle
feel it cut into your palms
a heavy, awkward weight
pulling on your shoulders
and back
all that work
for a drink of water
for a bath
for washing dishes
done every day
in days long past
if my water came from a well
instead of a tap
I would not take it for granted
carry your soul
to a thinking well
lower it in
hear it fill with thoughts
now pull it up
feel the weight
feel the substance
as the thoughts slip
down your mind
and onto your heart
carry your soul
home again
feel the new thoughts move inside
feel it bump against the old ones
a ponderous, sobering weight
pulling on your mind
and heart
we cannot live
without answering our body's need
for water
we must get it
every day
whether the journey to quench our thirst
is long or short
hard or easy
it must be done
we cannot live
without answering our soul's need
for growth
through new thoughts
the journey to fill our spirits
is always long
always hard
but it must be done
finding water
is much simpler nowadays
a walk across a room
is all it takes
yet our souls are often wanting
taken for granted
we surround ourselves
with all things familiar
and forget to make the journey
to find replenishment
resulting in thirst
and drought
and trapped unhappiness
Thursday, January 23, 2014
Monday, December 30, 2013
My Words
I can never hope
to be as good
As Dickinson
or Keats:
My words are
very feebly put
And I am bad
with rhymes and patterns.
Yet every so
often
The words
spill out,
They lilt,
songlike, onto the page,
And I feel
that they are perfect.
Profound.
Beautiful.
Strong.
Perhaps if
my own poor poetry
Can speak so
much to me,
Another may
enjoy it, too.
My thoughts
may help another through
This murky business
of living
And give
them a little light.
Relief.
Happiness.
Connection.
Most people
will probably think
That my
talent is ordinary and meager,
Nothing to
catch their minds.
But I write
not for the critics, the experts, or the masses.
I write for
the one.
I write for
me.
I write for you.
Friday, December 13, 2013
Windows of opportunity
I wanted to clean the kitchen this morning. It had been dirty and yucky far too long, and I couldn't stand it anymore. I put on some favorite music, pulled my hair back into a ponytail, made sure the kids were happily playing with toys, then prepared to go to work. Before I even got started, Beth was crying; Noah had hit her on the head with a toy. Great.
I ran upstairs to hold and comfort my daughter. We sat and rocked on the floor until her cries faded to sniffles. I prepared to stand up and begin my intended chores, but before I could, she grabbed a board book and pushed it into my hands. Reluctantly, I sat down to flip through the pages with her. It was a short book; we flipped through and looked at the colorful pictures of animals several times. The penguin page was her favorite. After a few minutes, I tried to stand up again, but she stubbornly insisted that we read the book again. We looked at the book for a long time, and she finally got off of my lap.
By then, I had remembered a dish I needed to start in the crockpot for dinner. By the time that was done, it was time to get dressed and change diapers and take a shower. And my daughter continued to clamor for attention. My window of opportunity was gone. The kitchen remained a mess for most of the day.
I often tell myself that I can have it all: a clean house, happy children with ample attention from both parents, perfectly balanced meals, and time for myself to boot. But the truth is, I can't do it, at least not without a huge effort of organization and time management on my part. Which is not something I'm terrific at. So unless I fight against my personality and make myself adhere to some crazy schedule that starts at 6:00 a.m. and ends with a strict 10:00 bedtime, "having it all" isn't going to happen.
Maybe it would be easier to take the "window of opportunity" viewpoint, and willingly recognize that opportunities often have a cost. If you choose to do one thing, you automatically exclude another one. This morning, I had hoped for the opportunity to deal my messy kitchen. The cost of having fussy kids while I cleaned was too great, so instead, I took the opportunity to read to my daughter, and give her some much-needed extra love and attention. And, in the end, my day balanced out: later on, I had another opportunity to clean, and it worked out so much better for me and my little ones. By taking advantage of the windows of opportunity that present themselves, the important things usually work themselves out. Everything usually doesn't get done, that's true, but it seems better than trying to force a schedule upon oneself.
I ran upstairs to hold and comfort my daughter. We sat and rocked on the floor until her cries faded to sniffles. I prepared to stand up and begin my intended chores, but before I could, she grabbed a board book and pushed it into my hands. Reluctantly, I sat down to flip through the pages with her. It was a short book; we flipped through and looked at the colorful pictures of animals several times. The penguin page was her favorite. After a few minutes, I tried to stand up again, but she stubbornly insisted that we read the book again. We looked at the book for a long time, and she finally got off of my lap.
By then, I had remembered a dish I needed to start in the crockpot for dinner. By the time that was done, it was time to get dressed and change diapers and take a shower. And my daughter continued to clamor for attention. My window of opportunity was gone. The kitchen remained a mess for most of the day.
I often tell myself that I can have it all: a clean house, happy children with ample attention from both parents, perfectly balanced meals, and time for myself to boot. But the truth is, I can't do it, at least not without a huge effort of organization and time management on my part. Which is not something I'm terrific at. So unless I fight against my personality and make myself adhere to some crazy schedule that starts at 6:00 a.m. and ends with a strict 10:00 bedtime, "having it all" isn't going to happen.
Maybe it would be easier to take the "window of opportunity" viewpoint, and willingly recognize that opportunities often have a cost. If you choose to do one thing, you automatically exclude another one. This morning, I had hoped for the opportunity to deal my messy kitchen. The cost of having fussy kids while I cleaned was too great, so instead, I took the opportunity to read to my daughter, and give her some much-needed extra love and attention. And, in the end, my day balanced out: later on, I had another opportunity to clean, and it worked out so much better for me and my little ones. By taking advantage of the windows of opportunity that present themselves, the important things usually work themselves out. Everything usually doesn't get done, that's true, but it seems better than trying to force a schedule upon oneself.
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
An Explanation
I already have a blog. A blog with lots of entries, pictures, and a good handful of followers. It's called Walk in Joy. I haven't been very good at updating it lately, and it would be easy to just add these entries to this old blog and feel good about picking it back up again. But the old blog is cluttered with many topics and types of posts. Someday, I intend to write there regularly again, and post lots of pictures of my little family there.
But sometimes, one needs a fresh start. A clean page. You won't see many pictures of my children, or Pinterest-inspired crafts, or delicious meal ideas here. I want to make a little place where I can send thoughts that are just my own into the universe. A place where I can open myself up a little bit more than I usually do.
Why call it Simply Vulnerable? Lately, I've been reading a beautiful book called The Gifts of Imperfection, by Brene Brown. It's brilliant, I think. It's given me a lot to think about. Her book is about living a wholehearted life. I'm not going to give a summary here, but she has some amazing things to say. This is one of my favorite quotes:
(Brown, Brene (2010-09-20). The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You're Suppose to Be and Embrace Who You Are (p. 6).)
I recently read another book entitled Gift from the Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh. Another incredible, life-changing read. In it, she addresses the need for solitude, and how everyone needs to set some time aside each day to just be alone with one's thoughts--time to ponder, pray, meditate, write, dream, and reflect. I often do my best reflecting as I'm writing, which is one reason I love it so much. However, as a mom of two rambunctious kids, I've convinced myself that writing was something I didn't have time or energy for, much less daily solitude that involved anything more pensive than wondering what will happen in the next episode of Lost as I reach for the remote. I am learning that this, however, is not true, and beginning this blog is one step in my efforts to establish a regular pattern of intentional solitude.
This is a place for me to "own my story" and put myself out there a little more than I usually would in everyday life. This is a place for me to intentionally ponder, as often as I can, the joys and trials in this life God has granted me.
But sometimes, one needs a fresh start. A clean page. You won't see many pictures of my children, or Pinterest-inspired crafts, or delicious meal ideas here. I want to make a little place where I can send thoughts that are just my own into the universe. A place where I can open myself up a little bit more than I usually do.
Why call it Simply Vulnerable? Lately, I've been reading a beautiful book called The Gifts of Imperfection, by Brene Brown. It's brilliant, I think. It's given me a lot to think about. Her book is about living a wholehearted life. I'm not going to give a summary here, but she has some amazing things to say. This is one of my favorite quotes:
Owning our story can be hard but not nearly as difficult as spending our lives running from it. Embracing our vulnerabilities is risky but not nearly as dangerous as giving up on love and belonging and joy—the experiences that make us the most vulnerable. Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light.
(Brown, Brene (2010-09-20). The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You're Suppose to Be and Embrace Who You Are (p. 6).)
I recently read another book entitled Gift from the Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh. Another incredible, life-changing read. In it, she addresses the need for solitude, and how everyone needs to set some time aside each day to just be alone with one's thoughts--time to ponder, pray, meditate, write, dream, and reflect. I often do my best reflecting as I'm writing, which is one reason I love it so much. However, as a mom of two rambunctious kids, I've convinced myself that writing was something I didn't have time or energy for, much less daily solitude that involved anything more pensive than wondering what will happen in the next episode of Lost as I reach for the remote. I am learning that this, however, is not true, and beginning this blog is one step in my efforts to establish a regular pattern of intentional solitude.
This is a place for me to "own my story" and put myself out there a little more than I usually would in everyday life. This is a place for me to intentionally ponder, as often as I can, the joys and trials in this life God has granted me.
Beautiful Things
My house is not beautiful;
I have a dreamplace,
Instead of curtains, paintings, and vintage picture frames,
My home is decorated with little fingerprints
And the occasional crayon mark
And dinner, splattered and dried,
And scribbled pictures tacked to the door.
The theme of my bedroom is “laundry”
And the living room’s is “toys.”
No, my house is not pretty,
And our few beautiful, breakable things are kept up high,
Out of the children’s grasp.
But I am in the business of making a home,
Not designing a house.
Designing will come later.
Now, my art is in creating a world
Of safety, peace, joy, and belonging,
Where the stuff of life is learned,
Laughter sings loud,
And the strength of love is felt.
No art from Etsy here.
Just ugly hand-me-down lamps
And cheap laminate furniture.
Drab walls, all the same color
And a carpet that needs cleaning.
Just ugly hand-me-down lamps
And cheap laminate furniture.
Drab walls, all the same color
And a carpet that needs cleaning.
I have a dreamplace,
A home I pretend to have
With white cabinets
And walls painted in favorite hues.
Pretty curtains hang from the windows
And everything is clean.
“A place for everything, and everything in its place”
Is the motto of this dream,
But these beautiful things are a long time coming.
With white cabinets
And walls painted in favorite hues.
Pretty curtains hang from the windows
And everything is clean.
“A place for everything, and everything in its place”
Is the motto of this dream,
But these beautiful things are a long time coming.
My home is decorated with little fingerprints
And the occasional crayon mark
And dinner, splattered and dried,
And scribbled pictures tacked to the door.
The theme of my bedroom is “laundry”
And the living room’s is “toys.”
And our few beautiful, breakable things are kept up high,
Out of the children’s grasp.
But I am in the business of making a home,
Not designing a house.
Designing will come later.
Now, my art is in creating a world
Of safety, peace, joy, and belonging,
Where the stuff of life is learned,
Laughter sings loud,
And the strength of love is felt.
Perhaps, someday, I will decorate
And make my house look just right.
But for now, these will suffice:
Giggles, picture books, tiny toes,
First steps, first words, and smiles.
My house is not beautiful,
But my home is.
And make my house look just right.
But for now, these will suffice:
Giggles, picture books, tiny toes,
First steps, first words, and smiles.
My house is not beautiful,
But my home is.
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