HomeLife
How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. - Annie Dillard
-
the why. because I needed to remind myself.
I’ve already bemoaned the fast pace of my days lately. But I still feel a little like reflecting. I’ve missed a handful of days in the past few weeks writing on the blog in case anyone is keeping track. Because computers are so tricky smart, however, I can tell that not many people have, in fact, been keeping track. Which leads me to more whining and self-pity. I truly try not to even look very long at any stats in regards to this blog at all. But as they appear on the opening dashboard of the home page it is hard to avert my eyes every time. So I notice…
-
the definition.
A graduate of high school now lives in our home. Which makes three of us, I suppose. When Riley was just a little kid, seven or eight, she asked me a question. “What does bittersweet mean?” And so we talked about it. About bittersweet. The rising joy and the crushing sorrow. The tinge of grey skies around all the bright yellow sunshine. The Amy Tan quote I read years earlier about happy and sad sometimes being from the same thing. She was only a kid. A squirt. A curious and forgetful sprite. But even little kids understand big truths. For months, maybe even years, after that conversation Riley would be…
-
a doll story, a Finn story
I just deleted about thirty-five blurry, barely recognizable photos from my phone. There were at least twenty more that I sent packing because they were basically a picture of darkness. (Not nearly as poetic as it sounds. Just – literally – a picture of nothing.) Piper Finn and Otto asked to borrow my phone to take photos of Piper’s pal, her doll. I think they were inspired by their siblings’ earlier forays into artistic photography. Out of the barrage of blurry and unusable images, I did get a handful of cute savers. (All photos taken today were taken by a three and a five year old. You’ll know who took…
-
gasp!
That’s the sound of me, surfacing. Coming up for air. I like full days and fun adventure. But I don’t care for hectic at breakneck paces. And for some reason, the past four or five days have felt more breakneck pace than anything else. Filled with the good – visits from faithful college buddies turned lifelong friends, unexpected fireworks in the yard to celebrate life and evenings and friendships, school days with good attitudes, digging of earth to plant something, community with friends. Sprinkled with the frustrating – relentless rain for four days, soggy earth, two pregnant cats, heavy traffic while running endless errands, seriously broken dryer, struggles with obedience…
-
The walk down that infamous lane called Memory
Of course she’s been on my mind lately. Nineteen. Graduation from high school about to be in the rearview mirror. So much change about to be her world. Having nine years between child number one and child number the rest has always been a heart-wrenching way to raise a family. That age gap has allowed an obvious opportunity to watch time pass. And my, how the time has passed. Graduation is barely a week away. So maybe you’ll humor me a little as I share a handful of little Riley pictures. The little Former Rileys who make up the Now Riley. When she let me pick out her clothes and…
-
a funny video.
It’s been more than a year since we moved twelve minutes down the road into this old farm house where we seem to be collecting memories and animals at an increasingly alarming rate. Kevin’s been plowing new ground with Jody over at Bottlecap for more than a year and we’re all still here – paying rent and eating meals and clothing our children and living a life that would never qualify as luxurious but has proven to be blessed and fulfilling all the same. Bottlecap has been making videos – good ones too. The most recent one is funny and features the cutest little expression from my Willow. Today, I…
-
how can I not share this stuff?
When I ask London Scout to write about a field trip we just took, she’ll give me a sentence or two. A drawing. Doodles around the corner of the page. After handing her the black notebook we use for our writing schoolwork and assigning her a written narration of a story we just read, she sighs a little and sometimes offers a compromise to try to avoid the task of rewriting a story from memory. But last night, when I was tucking her into bed, I saw a little notebook I had given her a while ago. It contained a plethora of short stories and cute drawings. I loved them…
Keep Reading . . .
here we go ….
My Friend Mary & The Beauty of Showing Up
the burrow: a dining room tour
-
Friend: Five Minute Friday
It’s Friday. I’m jumping over to Lisa-Jo’s blog and joining Five Minute Friday again. Five minutes of writing on an assigned topic – no second-round editing. The topic is Friend. Go. _____ This year marks the year my children have developed real friends. Friends I think they will remember. Oh yes, we’ve been blessed with buddies like cousins and relatives and the family that will be and is the ebb and flow of our relationships together for life. (And those friendships are tight and wonderful.) But this year seems to be the year my children have made comrades amongst their peers. That they even have peers. Otto has friends. He talks…
-
today. three years ago.
Today we went on a field trip to Connemara, home of our poet friend Carl Sandburg. (Sherry – can you please tell me again about how I am sort of related to him?) And then we had Book Club this evening. It was an unusually full day of activity. I was pretty prepared for the day, surprising myself with my efficiency. Lunches packed the night before, mainly by London Eli. Quinoa Chicken Taco Soup prepped and slow cooking in the crock pot. (It’s a good recipe – check the Pinterest board. Maybe I’ll write about it one day soon.) Book Club book finished by all three of us. Tonight after…
-
all birds not welcome here apparently
On the way out the door to church Sunday morning I saw a tiny bird (from the outside world, not the caged world) fly through the broken open window in our laundry room. She had a little leaf in her beak and she flew right up to our shelf, home of surplus toilet paper and trash bags. In the car I told the kids about what I saw and we talked about how cute she was. When we returned home we discovered this work of art tucked in between a roll of paper towels and cleaning rags. I guess saying yes to those parakeets of Bergen’s made my brain hazy.…
-
I can’t believe we said yes: what love will make you do.
Last week we celebrated Bergen Hawkeye’s birthday. Up until now, the guest list for most Keigley kid birthday events has been almost exclusively grown ups. Usually summer staffers. But this year we invited a few of Bergen’s buddies, drew out a couple treasure maps and created challenges for each of the kids. Turned out to be a perfectly sweet evening with fun and games and kind friends and chocolate cake with peanut butter frosting. (Bergen didn’t want any food dye in his icing.) A few days before the party, my friend sent me this text. “Can we get Bergen two parakeets for his birthday?” I responded, “Um, are you kidding?”…
-
spring.
“Let us lie in the sun and count every beautiful thing we can see.”
-
when I need to remember
Sometimes I re-read my all own stuff. Because I forget. I forget and then I forget some more. I’m riduclous like that. I forget that I’ve struggled through the same problems. That I didn’t die. I forget that God was sufficient. That the worst case scenario didn’t happen. That I’m still here. Or that the worst case scenario did happen. And I’m still here. And this post comes to my mind most frequently. The one that helps me focus on The Right Now and The Forever.
