A Day Like Yesterday

Yesterday was my favorite day of the year so far. And this is why:



It was finally spring. I planted my little flowers in my box just in time for my perfect weather day. I'm a little obsessed with weather. Not like the "checking the weather report every five minutes and reading books about how tornadoes form" kind of obsessed. My obsession really is not about the weather but about my mood. I'm obsessed with my mood.

I feel the most comfortable on a day like yesterday. It was 61 degrees but it felt like 70. The sky was a bright gray and smelled like rain and fresh mulch all day. Not cold and rainy, not sweltering hot...just perfect. The kind of day when I can sit on my deck and read a book without feeling guilty that I'm not out riding a bike or playing at the beach. The kind of day where I can walk around my neighborhood without my toes freezing or my umbrella turning inside out.

The kind of day that matches my nearly perpetual mood. Not threatening, not exuberant, not oppressive. A little on the melancholy side but with a lightness that delights in remembering and looks ahead with realism.

And there are certain activities that I only like to do on these days where I truly feel like myself. Reading, eating and watching movies immediately come to mind, although yesterday was far more productive than I imagined it would be. But there are other things, like shopping for a used novel or playing through a new piano book, that can only be truly and fully enjoyed on a day like yesterday. Oh I can do these and a number of other activities on any given day, but there is something deeply satisfying to me about a slightly melancholic day, when I am both propelled out to small accomplishments and lulled to my room for soul-rest.

Hot, sunny days make me a bit anxious. I feel this pressure to get out and enjoy the weather, when really I'm not an outdoorsy person. I get headaches from the heat, I hate getting sunburns, I'm afraid of deep water, I don't have a bike, and I am terrified of competitive sports.

Cold, dark winter days are cozy, but tromping through snow and getting kids in and out of sopping clothes lost its charm for me years ago. Not to mention the fact that it gets dark at 4:30. Darkness on that level oppresses the mind.

So a drizzly spring day really is the best. I hope for a long spring full of these days.

What's your favorite weather? When do you feel truly at peace with your environment?

Spring Cleaning

The Big Switch.

That day when I decide the weather has gotten warm enough to dig my shorts and tank tops out of storage and pack away my sweaters and down jackets. A day which, incidentally, I always regret a week later when the temperature has dropped back down to sweater weather.

Regardless, I love this day. Not as much as I love getting my sweaters back out in the fall though--just a personal preference. But I love the springtime switch too, because it brings with it a freshness that promises new beginnings and long days. I find bright colors that, like me, have been sleeping all winter. I get to wake up, finding energy in bright pinks, oranges and blues.

And inevitably I find shorts that I wore last year but suddenly look like they came straight from 1992. I find blouses that I hang in my closet every year and have, to my sudden realization this year, only worn once. I find skirts that look too frumpy this year, scarves that inexplicably don't match anything in my wardrobe, and dresses that I find myself embarrassed to recall wearing last summer for a number of reasons.

These clothes get (finally) tossed in the donation bag. Some of these items have nearly ended up in the bag year after year, but somehow I hang on to them one more year. Then, one year, it's just time for them to be gone. No question.

I find that fascinating about myself. I wonder if it's true for all of us.

I hang on to things, people, places and ideas for so long--and then, one day, I'm ready to let go. And I wonder why I held on so long. I am suddenly ready to move on. I just wasn't ready before, although I can't articulate how or when or why my hands (mind, heart) finally opened.

What are you holding on to, not quite able to toss into the bag yet? What did you finally let go of this year, this week?

Is there anything that needs to be purged for this new season of your life?

Can't Leave Home Without It

I didn't buy myself a new Easter outfit this year. In fact, I can't remember the last time I did. Do thirty-year-olds still get to buy new Easter dresses?

I guess Easter outfits have become one of the "non-essentials". I don't really need one. I put together what I thought was a nice outfit for church yesterday, and thankfully I attend a church where clothes really don't matter. I love it.

But clothes do matter to me in general. I have tried to say they don't, but I am feeling more and more that clothes really do change how I see myself and act toward others. If I wear loafers to work, I feel like I make more mistakes in my teaching. I feel frumpy and embarrassed. But my feet are comfortable.

If I wear heeled boots to work, or heels anywhere, I have a more confident walk. I literally strut. Therefore, by some twisted logic in my head, I am able to teach and speak with more confidence.

Yesterday at church I was standing up on "stage" with the band, doing lead vocals for our Easter service. As I said, I had put together a nice outfit. Light slacks, a pretty navy peasant-style blouse, a springtime scarf, and a pearl necklace and earrings. And...my most comfortable pair of loafers. Heels just seemed too dangerous. I mean, who wants to fall up the stairs on Easter Sunday?! The problem was, I saw my reflection in a window and felt like a frump. It was hard to find a good standing posture that made me feel confident. Good thing that's not what worship is all about.

So I do have my preferred ways of dressing--I just don't want to label myself as a woman who cares about how she looks. That's not who I was up until a couple years ago. Well, that's not true--I cared a great deal about how I looked, I just didn't know how to change it. Late bloomers often don't learn the "tricks of the trade" (ie how to wear makeup or coordinate outfits and accessories) until, well, late in life.

I realized a few weeks ago how dependent I have become on my fashion choices, especially those concerning my face and head, when I rushed out of my house without earrings. I don't remember the last time I had done that before this fateful day. I ended up going all day without earrings. I felt as if I had walked out in my pajamas or something.

How is it possible for little pieces of cheap metal to have such an effect on my self-image? I don't know how. All I know is that I don't feel like a woman if I'm not wearing earrings. I'm sure it's because I have no hair. Earrings are how I prove my femininity to the world.



I will not make that mistake again.

I wish I could be free of the trappings of this world. They literally trap me. But I figure God made women complex and sensitive and yearning for beauty, so maybe it's okay that I have to wear earrings every day. They don't take a lot of my time, they really have nothing to do with modesty, and they make me feel a little better about myself in terms of relating to other people. I know earrings don't increase my value as a person, or even as a woman. They just give me enough of a boost to get out into the world and get things done.

What are your "essentials"? Is there anything you just can't leave home without?

(Not) So Easily Deflated

(Image from www.karipatterson.com)

Air comes out of a balloon so much easier than it goes in, leaving it crumpled and shapeless; stretched thin and fallen. It once floated, weightless with its own purpose, but as it loses its air over and over again, its skin wears thin, eventually giving way to a hole. Then it can never fly.

I feel like that purple balloon. Once in awhile I come to a point of inflation--a point where I fill up with positive feelings about myself and I soar upwards. But all too soon, a critical comment just sucks all the air out of me and I crumple.

I received some very subtle criticism in passing today, and I just withered. I'm sure the person who made the comment didn't think twice about it. He wasn't getting personal, he was just trying to be efficient (no, this did not happen in my home...this is a work thing). But I ended up feeling how I so often do when I get even a little bit of criticism: like an immature kid with no common sense. From then on, I doubted my work, my decisions, my ability to live well as an adult.

Why should one little comment, which some people would probably not even see as a criticism, do such a number on my self-image? Why can I only see myself the way I imagine other people see me? And I imagine that other people are either wondering how I have lived so long with so little brain, or are totally in love with me.

In the words of Beyoncé, "I got a big ego".

I need to deflate-proof my balloon; fortify it with truths about who I am, regardless of bad decisions I make or accidents I have. I need to see myself as unshakeable because I have been fashioned from material that is divinely planned, crafted and protected.

Actually, now I'm seeing the image of a hot air balloon, fed by a source that will keep me rising and traveling to places of new opportunity.


(Image from www.hotairballoonridescolorado.com)

May you, beautiful reader, not be so easily deflated.

30 Days of Redefining Beauty-Day 25

After a whole slew of days that looked like this--



--we finally had one that looked like this:



The sun has been so long in coming that my three-year-old couldn't stop asking me why it was so sunny this morning. My poor child doesn't think it possible that we could have a sunny day in winter!

Although it was too cold to get outside and enjoy the sun today, it was incredibly good for my soul to its afternoon rays streaming through my window as I played with my children. I felt this familiar comfort wrap around me, although it's a comfort not entirely free of melancholy. It's that winter afternoon light kind of feeling. I hope you have felt it before. It's the feeling of being totally at home, yet knowing that there is something fleeting about this moment--and also realizing the promise that you will find your true home one day.

All at the same time.

This kind of light most often hit me in the mountains as a young girl growing up in Colorado. It was very romantic; the kind of light for dreamers, which I have certainly always been. So now, when I see the same shade of afternoon in my city condo, I feel especially at home...and especially drawn to another place and time. It's a lovely paradox. It's being thankful for grace while knowing I have not experienced the fullness of it.

What's your favorite kind of sunshine?

30 Days of Redefining Beauty-Day 23

I don't know whether to laugh or cry. I thought I be super productive and get tons of housecleaning done today. Part of that grand ambition included doing a load of laundry--pristine whites, to be exact. This load included my husband's undershirts, our bedsheets, and a brand new white shirt I bought last week.

Well, you may have already predicted what's coming next (hint: look at today's picture). Yes, there was a bright red dust rag in the bottom of the washer, unbeknownst to me. I'm not sure why, since I was the one who threw it in there earlier this morning after dusting.

So I have pink sheets, a brand new pink shirt, and I will send my husband to work with pink undershirts.

I suppose I should laugh. The thing is, this is only the latest in a long string of similar mishaps--stupid accidents that waste money and could have been prevented had I been paying just a bit more attention.

Here are a few of my recent "brilliant" moments:
--left son's potty seat in the locker room at daughter's swim lesson
--booked a flight under the wrong date
--left butter and cream cheese out on my counter all day after a trip to the store
--put chicken in a crock pot and then forgot to plug it in all day
--lost daughter's permission slip for a field trip (still can't find it, deadline is today)

...just to name a few. And that's all in a week's time.

So where's the beauty in this? That's where you, readers, come in. Today's post is interactive. I need your help to see beauty today. I keep having brief moments of confidence and contentment, only to be quickly reminded how close I am to the edge of a breakdown! I exaggerate...but not by much.

So help me see the beauty in my life and my crises. Because all feels futile right now.

30 Days of Redefining Beauty-Day 19

Okay, I have absolutely no idea what to write about tonight. Today was full of inconveniences, mistakes, wasted time and money, irritations, etc.

Seriously, I am staring at the screen trying to pull something out of you-know-where.

Ah...okay. I got it. And you have no idea how much time has elapsed. My little secret.

So last night I was woken from sleep around 2:00 a.m. to change my daughter's sheets. Then I couldn't get back to sleep due to apocalyptic-sounding winds beating against my windows. So I had some time to contemplate the night. Literally. I was thinking, wow--it's really the middle of the night. It can't get any darker, though I live in the city where it's never really dark.

Which gets me thinking about darkness. I have always loved the night. When I was in high school I used to sneak out of the house late at night...to walk through the neighborhood. I wasn't getting into trouble. I was just enjoying the mystery and semi-danger of the night. I loved seeing lit-up windows, cozy domestic scenes just feet away from me, and realizing that I preferred to be on the outside, in the dark.

But what if I were to find myself in total darkness? The kind of pitch black that hides everything from you, where you can't see your hand in front of your face? I don't think I would find that kind of darkness beautiful.

What I love about the dark is that lights become magical when they shine into it. You can really feel the warmth, power, and romance of lights when they are surrounded by darkness--yet not overcome by it. I have to be standing out in the dark sometimes to truly appreciate the light. When I am surrounded by light, it doesn't grab my heart in the same way as it does on a dark, rainy night.

So the beauty of darkness is really the beauty of the power of light.

When was the last time you contemplated how wonderful it is to see a light in the darkness?

30 Days of Redefining Beauty: Day 2

Today I had so many moments of beauty that I wondered how I would choose one to write about. Then came another stressful evening and I find myself needing to write about all of them.

The first happened this morning as I set off for an errand in my car. I turned on NPR, but instead of talk I found myself listening to a lovely little track that so perfectly fit my mood at the moment.

Then, I went to a nonprofit organization with a friend today. It's not quite in my neighborhood, but close enough that I know the area pretty well. This agency serves those in poverty, equipping them with skills they need to gain employment. While there, I saw a bone thin man with stringy hair shuffling around--and I knew his face. I've seen him on the train before. It hit me then that I really am getting to know my community. I was struck by my interconnectedness to other people.

Finally, tonight I had to drive into the city for a high school basketball game. I didn't want to, because I thought I would be stuck in traffic for too long with hungry, screaming kids in the back. But the road was clear, and the city was beautiful tonight. I was reminded how much I love getting out and seeing the night lights.

So, how about you? When was the last time you felt the interconnection between you, your fellow human, and the place where you live?

Why Do I Facebook?

A friend on Facebook recently posed this question in her status, and it really got me thinking...

My Facebook page is a contradiction to anyone paying attention. The pictures show smiling kids, romantic bouquets of flowers, peaceful sunsets, and other beautiful images that I'm sure make anyone outside of my family and close circle of friends gag.

But my status reports often hint at the fact that I am stressed out, restless, discontent, and insecure.

So what's the truth?

Well, Facebook is not exactly where people go to find truth, is it? You can't know someone by their Facebook page. And yet, that's my basis for connection with most people I know, unless I see them regularly face to face.

People reading my Facebook page might imagine that I have nothing but free time--enough time to take, edit and post several pictures on Instagram everyday. They might also think I am the kind of person who knows how to appreciate beauty and is living the good life. They might think I have the perfect family but have to post that I'm stressed out once in awhile so people don't get jealous.

The truth is, Facebook has become the tool by which I process fleeting moments of experience. I have a feeling, and I post something to see how my feeling looks and sounds in a world where others will interact with it. Facebook doesn't begin to represent who I am or what my life is like, but it does provide a pretty accurate timeline of the moods I go through.

And more than anything, I want to be understood. I want to be known and loved for being uniquely me. So I post representations of my moods in the hopes that people will find them lovely.

Sad? Maybe. But at the end of the day I'm grateful for finding this outlet that fits my schedule and short attention span (and doesn't require any artistic talent).

So...why do YOU Facebook?