On, In, and Around Mondays: Figuring
"Everything is terrible!" she wails, and leans into my arms.
Everything is not terrible.
There are worse days, worse places, worse lives. But to her, in this moment, everything is terrible. She is our sensitive child. And maybe the past few days of mini crisis, the weeks of us-too-busy-for-her, have piled up.
I understand. I myself am in a time of "figuring." Looking for some way to feel a sense of space. It always comes 'round to this. I empty my life, I fill it back up. I feel burdened. I must re-figure.
Walk away, I think.
So on Friday I go skating .
On Saturday I don't write (thus my lateness here today), but instead keep a promise to make a blog for my Eldest.
On Sunday we go walking. I laugh at my Youngest's way with the world. She is making snow hats for every fire hydrant we pass (and in my laughter I forget to take photos, which is a small regret).
On Sunday evening we take time for my Youngest, the fire-hydrant-snow-hat girl who thinks everything is terrible. Time to figure how to make a Japanese tent (is there such a thing?) that she actually fills with Chinese items. We find some Japanese music and download it; we change my plans for French-toast dinner and order-in Japanese.
Lights down low, she is finally smiling. I am still figuring. But for the moment everything is suspended.
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On, In and Around Mondays (which partly means you can post any day and still add a link) is an invitation to write from where you are. Tell us what is on, in, around (over, under, near, by...) you. Feel free to write any which way... compose a tight poem or just ramble for a few paragraphs. But we should feel a sense of place. Would you like to try? Write something 'in place' and add your link below.
If you could kindly link back here when you post, it will create a central meeting place. :)
Labels: family stories, life management, On in and Around Mondays, sabbath
posted by L.L. Barkat at 9:30 AM
18 Comments:
Laura,
while I've yet to join this,
I truly love your writing in these posts.
and this.
why do we forget that our children see what we often don't
Thank you. I love what I've found here today. I'm glad your daughter carries life deep. She helps others to see what would otherwise slip by unnoticed. I think she is like you in this, and both of you are treasures.
such kindness.
it is hard to be sensitive. but worth it, she will learn, in the long run.
I'd like to come play at your house.
Like Deb, I've yet to join you here - but oh how I enjoy reading your posts on Monday. I think I would have loved being at your house. You are a really wonderful Mom.
I realized that my post from this morning would fit nicely here... Who-hoo, participation! ;-)
How are you, L.L.? I think of you fondly, and often.
now i want to make a tent too.
this is wonderful. your daughter is reminding me of my own lately, and your answers give me ideas... oh, to build that tent. i think we will try our own. thank you for this post, truly inspiring. i'm linking in today.
Such beautiful snow pictures; clean sweep, no footprints. What a beautiful tent, and the photos inside the tent are evocative and gorgeous. Thank you, Laura, for considering the needs of your daughter!
Your thoughts about dis-at-ease-ness, of feeling a need to to figure but sometimes it's not the right time for figuring, are surprisingly comforting to me. Sometimes I tend to think others have their lives and schedules more "together" than I do. What a relief to know I'm not the only fumbler of figuring!
I had a good experience yesterday that gave me a temporary sense of joy because it looked like I'd maybe found an open door in a place that's been jammed shut for far too long. And then this morning, all I could think of was not only the hard work it would be if I managed to realize the opportunity, but that the instructions I'd been given to make the task sound easy and do-able, weren't adequate to make me understand how to accomplish a new task. sigh. It's good to have my own frustrations put in perspective by the frustrations and inward-glancing of another. So I'm going to turn over to God my supposed-project. I don't have to figure things out (excessively). Either this door will open slowly, or else I'll be "content" to have it stay closed. There are many other doors to peek behind to see what good things they offer.
I'm so glad you spent time making your daughter peaceful and happy.
That also made you peaceful and happy!
Figuring skating.
Sorry, I couldn't help it.
Glad you're trying to slow down. It's so challenging to refrain from picking it all up again, isn't it? (Don't answer that - you need your space. Consider it a rhetorical question.)
A Japanese tent. How cool! Quite the transport to another place.
What a sweet, sweet memory. She'll probably write about it someday! Sometimes the sensitive one isn't understood. How neat, the way you minister to her spirit.
Love the photos, the moments . . and roller skating! I LOVE roller skating. So glad you're taking time to just be.
What fun inside the Japanese tent~what memories for your daughter.
I used to ice skate too~eons ago. If we had a rink nearby, I think I'd try again~even with the risk of falling.
Oh, I wish I had the wisdom myself to stop and make fire hydrant hats and Japanese tents some days. I am in a year of trying to empty and yet every time I turn, I am still filling.
I'm here on a Wednesday for these Monday words, but they speak loud and clear and beautifully.
Can't think of a better place to re-figure than in a Japanese tent. I wouldn't know where to begin. I assume this included some tea?
I'm glad you gave yourself some space. I've had to take some space--though not rest space. But it's not been terrible. There has been glory in the moments. ;)
I've missed you.
i loved this... all of it. it so describes the life of a mom or dad, pulled and trying to "figure" around it. such a gift of understanding and comfort.
Actually, I think most tents in Japan have Coleman written on the side. ;o) I would much rather have hers!
I used to have an umbrella similar to that hanging from my ceiling - to match my black lacquer furniture that looked, oh, so Asian. I've now been living in Japan for 16 years, and don't have anything like that on my ceiling. Hmmm...
I love your blog!
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