Java jive and lie

The other day, I treated myself, my very tired self, to a frappachino. When my back was turned, Owen snuck a sip. Now, I had told him before that coffee is just for grown-ups and he knew full well this was coffee.

"Owen, you're not suppose to drink coffee." Then it happened. It just flew out of my mouth without thinking. I blurted out one of those lies parents tell their children that I hate. "It will stunt your growth."

I could see the wheels turning in Owen's head.

"If I drink water, will it reverse the coffee."

"Um, yep."

Gift From the Sea

I've been feeling the need of late to refocus on myself and, as a result, be more of what I want to be for my family. During this final trimester of pregnancy, I've been having trouble getting to sleep. So, of course, during the day I'm low on patience and energy. I have a long list of things I want to get done in the house before the baby arrives. I've been snapping at my children, neglecting my husband and at a loss of who I am in the few quiet moments I allow myself. I haven't been taking the time to refuel myself. Definitely in need of an interior makeover.

Partly because of this, I choose the classic Gift From the Sea by Anne Murrow Lindbergh for our book club pick this month. At the time she wrote this book, Anne was a busy wife and mother of five. She went to the beach for a couple of weeks vacation by herself and mediated on what the different types of shells she collected on the shore illustrated in a woman's life and roles.

This little book is packed with wisdom for women of any age and time. In fact, the first time I read this book I was amazed that a book written fifty years ago was just as applicable today. This is one of those rare gems that you glean new insights each time you read it. I want to share a few highlights that particularly resonate with me at the moment.

But I want first of all--in fact, as an end to these other desires--to be at peace with myself. I want a singleness of eye, a purity of intention, a central core to my life that will enable me to carry out these obligations and activities as well as I can. I want, in fact--to borrow from the language of the saints--to live "in grace" as much of the time as possible. I am not using this term in a strictly theological sense. By grace I mean an inner harmony, essentially spiritual, which can be translated into outward harmony. I am seeking perhaps what Socrates asked for in the prayer form the Phaedrus when he said, "May the outward and inward man be at one." I would like to achieve a state of inner spiritual grace form which I could function and give as I was meant to in the eye of God (pg. 17-18).

When one is a stranger to oneself then one is estranged from others too. If one is out of touch with oneself, then one cannot touch others (pg. 38).

Certain springs are tapped only when we are alone. The artist knows he must be alone to create; the writer, to work out his thoughts; the musician, to compose; the saint, to pray. But women need solitude in order to find again the true essence of themselves (pg. 44).

But neither woman nor man are likely to be fed by another relationship which seems easier because it is in an earlier stage. Such a love affair cannot really bring back a sense of identity. Certainly, one has the illusion that one will find oneself in being loved for what one really is, not for a collection of functions. But can one actually find oneself in someone else? In someone else's love? Or even in the mirror someone else holds up for one? I believe that true identity is found, as Eckhart once said, by "going into one's own ground and knowing oneself." It is found in creative activity springing from within. It is found, paradoxically, when one loses oneself. One must lose one's life to find it. Woman can best refind herself by losing herself in some kind of creative activity of her own. Here she will be able to refind her strength, the strength she needs to look and work at the second half of the problem--the neglected pure relationship. Only a refound person can refind a personal relationship (pg. 60-61)

Talking to Jesus

Owen walked around the backyard talking loudly to no one we could see.

"Who are you talking to?" asked Jack.

"I'm talking to Jesus."

"Why are you talking so loud?"

"So He can hear me." replied Owen. "Because He's way up in the sky."

The great, modern parental conflict

Jack and I stood back and watched out little boys’ joy find expression, as it so often does, in rapid movement. This morning they looped the sleeves of their shirts around their necks and ran running and whopping down the hallway.

“Why don’t you go to work and I’ll stay home with the boys?” said Jack.

I know and he knows that I wouldn’t like that, completely. I tried working full-time outside of the home last year. Hated it! Way too much time away from kids.

“How about we each work part time?” I suggested.

“My work couldn’t be done part time.”

True, unfortunately. His work requires more than the standard American 40-hour workweek to be successful.

“How about we start a home-based business together?”

“I thought we wanted to save our marriage.” He countered.

True, again.

But I love him for wanting to stay home with the kids.

Busted intentions

I have good intentions. I’m great with intentions. But I’m backing off on the book club one. I thought that discussing a book once a month that I’m already reading for my book club would be easy. I love books and talking about them. But I’m dragging my feet on it. So much so that I feel a pang of guilt when I fire up my laptop. Why?

The purpose of my blog is for entertainment, expression and enjoyment. Not obligation. I have enough of that in my life. Not nearly enough of the fun stuff. So I’m going to the leave the book reviews as I originally intended—when I feel so moved to do so.

Although I enjoyed both of the books I mentioned for the book club, and particularly enjoyed pondering and discussing Gilbert’s Eat, Pray Love, I won’t be writing about it here. I’ll probably write about some of our book club picks in the future, I just not making any promises that I can’t keep.

But I need them!

At the end of our long weekend with family, the boys and I were headed toward the security line at the airport. I told them to say goodbye now because Grandmom and Uncle P couldn’t come with us. Jonas refused. He pointed his chubby fingers at the beloved relatives and exclaimed, “No, I need them!”

Happy wherever

“Do you miss your daddy?” a favored uncle asked Owen. The boys and I left Jack at home for a few days and visited my family up north.

“Not too much, I’ll see him the next day,” said Owen. “I’m happy wherever I am.”