bsmiles and sunny days

This is my view for the next hour while we wait for our shuttle to the airport. Yesterday Dale asked me the name of a speaker we had heard earlier in the week. I've heard and seen gobs of names this week, and yet I was able to recall the name of one speaker. If you know me, or if you are a busy mom, you get why this is such a big deal. For 5 days I've had concentrated, uninterrupted conversation with my husband. I've had intellectual thought. I've had long stretches of quiet everyday. Please love me anyway, I've got a point here. My mind IS capable when its faculties are not clogged with sound. (I wasn't sure...) At any given time I may be entertaining 3 conversations at the same time with crying or screaming or both in the background. Now add piano, or guitar, or noise toys, or music. You see what I'm saying. On top of this, add busyness: I need to be somewhere, I have a deadline, I need to start working on dinner, I have to do laundry before morning... You

I am constantly telling my children You are beautiful. You are amazing. You are so smart! You are funny, seriously. You are my favorite. It's what I do. I'm a builder. I'm also a wrecking ball on bad days. Don't get me wrong. This mama's a hot mess on the verge of collapse a good percentage of the time. And yet, I'm a builder. Kids are funny. You know what they say in response to my building? Yes, you DO know. Remember when your mom would say, "You look very nice, sweetie." You thought, "You don't really mean it, you HAVE to say that. You're my mom." And that's exactly what my kids say to me. I started to pull back from complimenting them because of it. I figured if they didn't want to hear it, I didn't want to say it too much. However, the mercy of God has enabled me have a glimpse of how He sees me. God took the time to cut a design, specific to me, with perfection. I look at me and see flaws. But my Crea

This morning I woke up to a stunning spread of morning delight, rising over the city. Cars were beginning to fill the streets. Frustration was almost tangible as they lined up in droves down the on-ramps of the busy interstate. I couldn’t help but be distracted by their tiny images, like toys on a track, 26 floors down, until I lifted my eyes to the sunrise. Blue, pink, and orange swatches of light were layered harmoniously, high above the buildings that towered over me . It stretched east to west, dominating my view, making the busyness of the traffic seem small and insignificant. It was remarkable how calm and ordered the cosmos felt hovering listlessly as the morning rose. I have a little confession. Eight weeks ago, the bottom fell out on my marriage. You, my faithful readers, fellow lovers of words, story-holders in kind, you knew something was awry, but you couldn’t string the riddles together because the details were sketchy and vague. I can say with confidence that God

Words are my thing. Obviously, writing is my medium. It enables me to access parts of myself that nothing else is capable of accessing. I need to talk. I need to write. I need to read. Words give me flight. They give me hope. They reveal me, the good the bad and the ugly. They comfort me, give me strength.  I have felt uncovered in my writing these past few weeks. When I don't feel, I write, and I can feel. When I feel buried, I write and it gives me peace. I've always struggled with saying things. I can talk, I talk a lot. I've always had a lot to say. But when it comes to hard conversations, pass. No thank you. I start talking and I either cry or stutter, I get kabaubled, and I can't say what needs to be said. Not only that, but I have no clarity. The thoughts all get mashed up together and leave me confused and bewildered, even though I'm mad or sad or frustrated or discouraged. As soon as I sense danger, I flight. (You know what I mean~) At least my mind do

I'm in this season of self-discovery. I say a season, I mean, a journey. It's a journey that I was really excited about until I started growing. The growing part is really hard. I want to just keep going and adding great things to the parts that are really good and comfortable, but not prune out the stuff that is dead weight. I don't want to have to change things that I like but shouldn't be keeping. (think hoarder) I'm not quite ready to shine light on these vices that need to be uprooted. I was raised in a perfect house by perfect parents with good Christian morals. I was never openly rebellious. I struggled but not with anything too bad. The path of least resistance suited me. It seemed good and well. I didn't have to face demons. I didn't have to struggle to survive. It was a good life. It was a good life. I had a good life. I did. Except that I did struggle. I did fight. I did rebel. I did battle my parents. It wasn't perfect. I needed more and

It's hard for me to clean. I go flitting from one thing to the next trying to accomplish something and then another and another, only to turn around and realize that I left 42 things half done. Like... I came down to go to bed early and I couldn't find my pillow. The pillow that I sleep on every night. It was missing. From my bed. (This is a trigger for me.) I began to look around for it. There was clutter on my floor, candy wrappers, socks, toys, dishes... so I started picking things up. Trash in the can, socks in the hamper, shoes on the stairs to be taken up. And I realize I need to go to the bathroom. So I stop the cleaning up to go to the bathroom, and while I'm in there I change into  my pajamas. Might as well take my contacts out while I'm at it, and wipe down the sink and mirror. Back out, oh, the mess on the floor... and a pile of folded laundry catches my eye. Start putting it away, stack it on the table instead of on the bed so I can get into the bed, and I s

This is the first year we collaborated on a costume ensemble. Dale's idea. I loved it. It's so apropos. Can you guess what we are?$ I'd dare say, you would be in shock and awe at the sheer volumes of candy that come into this house on Halloween night. It's a mama's dream come true... It's maybe a little overwhelMing to see this crew approaching your door. Good thing we move in shifts. Seriously... There are a lot of us.  Beautiful girls. It's strange to me that Leila will be adding makeup to her life on her next birthday. Just mascara, but it's makeup and yikes. The kid us gorgeous. Where do the days go? Deisha insisted on adding ketchup and mustard to her baby costume. It's accurate, I couldn't say no. Little Minnie Mouse debated on being a regular mouse or a haunted mouse. A haunted mouse would hop on one foot and hold one arm behind her back. I was pulling for haunted mouse, but no dice. Sick monkey. So. Stinking. Adorable. Like totes adorbs.