An Hour of One’s Own

Forget about A Room of One’s Own, Virginia Woolf, I simply need an hour of my own. Truly, my brain could exhale all of the thoughts swirling around and I could sort them so much better if I had uninterrupted time.

Reading A Room of One’s Own shaped my feelings about writing. Although I knew, even in fourth grade when I attempted my first “chapter” that fiction wasn’t my jam, Ms. Woolf helped frame my need for creative space. And that, as a woman.

roomofown_write31days_missindeedy

As I’ve gotten older, it’s not money I need to be able to write, though. It’s time.

And not only time, but then, I need to be able to explain myself correctly. That can be difficult to do. Especially when I’m carving words out of my soul space. It takes an hour (or eleventy-hundred) of solitude to do justice to the feelings that are attempting to worm their way into words.

Woolf knew that truth finds its way into words (written or spoken) too. And she knew the power of it, as she shares here:

“Be truthful, one would say, and the result is bound to be amazingly interesting.”

In a world where so many are vying for room on the grand platform of social media, being truthful isn’t always exciting. Or newsworthy. Or sensational.

But, Woolf was able to see beyond the illusion of it all. Even back in 1929.

“Why, if it was an illusion, not praise the catastrophe, whatever it was, that destroyed illusion and put truth in its place?”

Heeding the call to write, no matter the subject, is easier to do after reading A Room of One’s Own. And, while I don’t claim all of the things that Virginia Woolf espouses in this book, it was an incredible encouragement to this woman to just write.

Even if only for an hour.

Yes indeedy.

To see other posts in the Best Books Ever series I’m writing for the Write 31 Days Challenge, click the button below. 

missindeedybooks31days2016

 

Advertisements

For Time to Stand Still

Forget time-travel…I want to stall it!

Sweetgirl has developed quite a sense of humor. And lately, she beats me to every punch line. I have a funny come back for Sweetboy and she spouts it off before I get out the first syllable. We watch a funny scene in a movie and she’s chortling before I get the first snort out.

And then, she knows things that are beyond me. This kid, she has a sense of time and space that I do not even aspire to. This simply must come from Sweetman. I assure you, these skills of modulating an area, sequencing tasks in order of efficiency, enjoying math… alllllll Sweetman. Thank you God for letting me be yoked to my Sweetman!

Yet, she is still small enough to sit in my lap and let me cup her cheeks in my hands and murmur how much we adore her. She fits. Right there in my lap. Secure. Cherished. Mine.

I am clinging to these hours, days, weeks-months-years. As graduation looms around me for so many other parents, I want to linger in these fleeting moments.

Can we parents come together and agree that it would be a fantastic idea to create a sort of “time-stopping machine”?

Can we?

Sweetkids

Because, imagining the ability to soak in a moment of the sun glinting off of her pale yellow hair as she dances amongst the wildflowers swells my heart. I want to press pause as I watch her tiptoe with gentle and cautious optimism toward the bird nervously perched five feet away.

And Sweetboy… oh child! How I love that my heart is beginning to beat more in tandem with his. The thumping is erratic at times, but as he discovers more of his gifts and talents and loves, I see that we are not that different, he and I. We both laugh hysterically over bathroom humor. His laugh… I could listen to that beautiful sound play over and over and over.

What a gentle way he has with others! I like to eavesdrop on his conversations sometimes. I wish I could halt the flow of them and take notes on how he waits attentively, taking feelings into account in ways that others his age often don’t. He is expert at feeling empathy in situations others would flat-out miss.

And the child has caught my love of reading. I don’t care that it’s Big Nate that makes him read voraciously. Seeing his love for what the written word can do for a person, grow is a joy. I sneak in sometimes, long after “bedtime”, and just stand watching his eyes dance across the pages.

I want… no, I need time to stand still for all of these precious moments that I know are fading from our daily interactions.

Indeed.

We danced in the living room, the other day. Homework was done, we were all feeling worn down from the day, and there was an energy zinging amongst us that desperately needed release. As I pressed play, my children, these precious people who God knit inside of me and allowed me to birth out into the world, they danced around me in circles of love.

I just want it to go on forever.

But it can’t.

So, for now, I just need time to stand still.

Oh Write Thirty

Is it just me, or is time kind of stampeding on? From the moment I turned forty, I feel like I’m constantly sprinting after time and yelling, “Slow DOWN, for the love!”

As soon as I saw that clock tick over to 12:01 a.m., January first, I was struck by one thought: I haven’t been diligent about focusing on my dream this past year.

Opportunity is knocking.

I am not fully prepared.

One doesn’t simply crack open the door for Opportunity.

Amiright?

It’s in the still quiet moments when I hear The Dream Giver whispering into my ear and heart. He seems to have to whisper the same word time and again: “Focus, child.”

I’m hanging onto that word and letting it drive me for 2015.

Over and over again, no matter how well-intentioned I am, I find myself running down rabbit trails. Some, are necessary. The project that my Autism Spectrum Disordered child has looming over his head becomes too big for him and begs further breaking down before we all break down. Those kind of unforeseen circumstances are the unavoidable trails.

But, then, there are the ones I step down willingly. The research for a pending trip become fodder for vacation dreaming. And poof! A week’s worth of days are spent using my writing time for Internet Surfing time.

That’s not even the kind of ten I like to hang!

I would never have described myself as one who needs help with direction, in the past. My life as a Second Grade Teacher, before children, dictated a routine. It demanded organization. It fostered creativity within the bounds of structure.

This past decade-and-a-half, though, God has shifted my life. It has been more about living moment-by-moment, based on the ever-changing needs of the ones I care for.

Looking back on the year of preparation that I had in 2014, I realize that the rabbit holes were awfully dark. It’s hard to write or create in the dark.

And, I’m not a rabbit.

Zeroing in on a word that will drive me, in this new year, isn’t something I intended to do. After all, I was all about being intentional in 2013. And I wasn’t all that…intentional. Then, in 2014, I thought much about pursue. But, rabbit holes!

So, here I sit, staring at the number2-0-1-5 and thinking, “Isn’t it time I get serious and focus?”

I can almost hear God doing the exasperated parent sigh. Almost. Although, I’m sure He would never. even.

One of the most beautiful things to come out of taking on the Write 31 Days Challenge last October was seeing how I thrive on routine. I knew that about myself, at one point in time. But, I’d forgotten. Being forced to write some every single day burst open the creative gates. It also kept me honest. Saying I was going to write every day, and then having to show up on Day Whatever without a thing in hand, was a mammoth motivator to stick to it.

Back to the whole idea of focus, I know what I have to do. I work well with a schedule. If it’s looming, I’m moving. That’s where I can start. I’ll choose an Oh Write Thirty time during each day and set my trusty time and just do it! Oh those smart Nike people!

And then, hopefully, the next time I hear Opportunity knocking, I can fling wide that door and welcome It in!

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to close out of approximately four vacation destination tabs.

Yes indeedy.

Birthday Boy and Time

Dear Sweetboy,

You have just turned eleven.

Number one. Twice.

I’m not sure how that happened.

Five short years from now, you can potentially get a driver’s license. Voting rights are yours to claim in only seven years. Middle school beckons and high school looms.

Give me a minute.

In a few short weeks, you will wave goodbye to elementary school and enter full on tweendom at the intermediate school.

I want to shake my fist at time. It’s moving too fast.

I’m thankful that stuffed animals and hugs are still preferred over closed doors and hasty exits.

Each month, lately, I feel like you make some new cognitive leap or self discovery. I’m trying to acclimate to your current speed.

I could do that a lot easier if time would just slow down, already!

You’ve begun to blush at any romance, onscreen.  And, “I don’t want to talk about that!” is peppering some of our conversations. Sarcasm is gaining appeal in the books you read and the shows you watch. I’m quoting you here, child. “I’m not a fan of that.”

You still need me. I’ll be honest. That is comforting.  It means that you are still young enough to not have it all figured out yet.

Have I mentioned that I would also very much like for time to stand still?

I know you want to be able to do some of these new things in life on your own. Go for it!

Just know this – we will always have your back.

We are a team.

And although there is no “i” in team, there is a “u”.

You know I love you so much. You told me so, just the other day.

I hope you always remember that.

Always.

Happy Eleven, Sweetboy.  You’re gonna ROCK this!

Love,

Mama

P.S. If you need me, I’ll be taking all of the batteries out of the clocks. Everywhere.

sweetboy_skeeball_missindeedy

A Perscription for Peace

Choose_What_Is_Better_Missindeedy

I’ve been digging in my heels quite a bit, lately.  Maybe you’ve been here too?  Both my heels and my heart are becoming callused. And, it ain’t pretty!

I can feel the very moment when I know it’s going to happen. Pride rears its ugly head and I refuse to call it for what it is.

And so, I dig in those heels, ready to do battle.

Have you ever tried to do battle in heels?  It’s not easy.  And, I don’t know about you, but I usually end up on my backside, bruised and confused.

Can I tell you? I’ve become weary of doing battle.  Finally, I’m realizing that I’ve been refusing some of the very things that would remove these ugly calluses from me.

Now, I know full well, that refusal can be a very good thing.  Mary refused to busy herself, instead choosing to sit at the feet of the most amazing Teacher and Lover of a soul that could ever walk this earth.  Job refused to take the counsel of friends trying to get him to see reason, and instead, trusted in this Great God who allowed the worst to bring out His best. Ruth, who refused to leave her former mother-in-law for a better daily existence, dug in and Stuck. It. Out.  And, ended up being included in the lineage of Jesus Christ – The Savior of All!

Those sorts of Good Refusals haven’t been on my mind, though.  What’s been on repeat in this head of mine is this sort of thinking: “I need more time for myself.  I need fewer demands placed upon me.  I need to keep my schedule more open for A Possibility.”

I need. I need. I need.

Allow myself to annoy myself.

Because, I surely have.

These refusals? I’m all done with them!

Time.  It’s temporary. And, I do not even fathom it in its current form. My Maker?  He does.  I can rest in that.  He knows exactly when I need more of it. God will, indeed, provide more time, if and when He knows I need it.

Demands. The ones placing the demands are gifts.  I’m not saying that to be trite.   I listened to the heartbreak and anguish of three friends, Three Beautiful Souls, just in the past few weeks, alone, who lost pregnancies.  And I dare to complain that the “demands” of the children God blessed this unworthy womb with, are too great?  For shame. Truly.

Calendars.  Blurry days and jam-packed weeks aside, my calendar does include some Very Important Things.  Things that must be written in stone for the good of this family that I am blessed to be a part of.  But, if I’ll take an honest look at most of the other things, from an eternal perspective?  They’re really not all that important.

Ultimately, it’s not about me. For one who struggles so mightily with feeling worthwhile, this lesson seems awfully difficult for me to master. I so pray it isn’t always.  It’s almost as if I can write it out here, and see my decrepit mindset for what it is, only to forget it days or weeks later, when life gets All Hectic again.

It’s becoming clear that therein lies my prescription for peace.  I must clear some of The Hectic out.  For the good of this sweet family that has been entrusted to me – and I to them.

Choose what is better.  I want to do that.  Don’t we all?

And so, I will.

I’m ditching those heels and setting myself on The Firm Foundation.

Yes, indeedy.

What about you?  Is there a little too much of The Hectic in your life lately, too?  Where can you see places to choose better?