Am I a sour lifesaver?

Those who know me well, and I am not sure that there are many reading who could claim to, know that I can be snarky, sassy, perhaps a bit sarcastic with a dash of cynical. Okay, so those reading have obviously seen that too.

But as I look at those labels I have reason to be concerned.

I can accept and own up to said titles, but I would like to think that I am seen as more than that from time to time. Perhaps because those are the more prominent of my traits they tend to overpower my sweetness, gentleness, patience and down right likableness. So that was a stretch, I know. But I can not really be all SPICE, can I? I mean there must be a little bit of sugar in this girl.

In recent conversation with my oldest brother, I realized that to my family, at least, the spice is the most evident of my qualities...or lack thereof. And here I thought that I was showing restraint. If they only knew that I say merely half of what I am thinking, and even that when filtered through my verbal portal has been significantly watered down, geesh, my thoughts would startle them.

I guess there is no point to be found in this post. And that is okay, very few will be reading it anyway. But for those that are, I hope that a wee bit of my sugar can be identified from time to time. I hope that I am not all SOUR Lifesavers, (although I do prefer them), and on occasion could be considered sweet.

my thoughts on winter...yada, yada, yada

A wise woman I know once posted a picture of an icicle, and shared her reflections on it's beauty and something about being patient with winter....yada, yada, yada. (Just in case you are one of my readers with absolutely no sense of humor....let me be clear, it was a great post, with worthwhile lessons...of which I agree.)

I am trying. Really, JM...I am! I even understand and totally agree with all that you wrote. At least I did that day. Must have been the fourth cup of flavored coffee talking. But I am really struggling here.

I have never been one to rush through the seasons. I live in South Dakota, so we get four of them. One is excruciatingly longer then the other three....but we are blessed immensely because we smell growth in Spring, feel humid winds of Summer, watch leaves turn and fall in Autumn, and lose an ear to frostbite in Winter. I love that about my home. Most years I am perfectly okay accepting of the fact that much of my skin will dry out, my extremities will have no feeling a good portion of the time, and my fashion will take a back seat to the necessity of survival. Really, I am.

But this year I am feeling it. Perhaps it is because I have scooped already, more snow than I did in the entirety of last winter. Or maybe it is that we have no upcoming warm destination trip planned, while so many others do. Or possibly I have not purchased an exciting piece of warm weather apparel to boost my spirits. Whatever the case may be, I am feeling it.

I do not want to rush through these days. I do not want to spend my time wishing for something that can not be and in the process miss what I have right before me. Philosophically and spiritually I get it. Mentally and physically....not so much.

So while I can not bring myself to post pictures of the beautiful winter landscape I am working at accepting it for what it is. A big ole' pain in the frozen tush. Kidding. Sort of. Hopefully at some point in the next month I will be able to at least bundle up my family and get out into the beauty of it and have a little fun. Because watching it from behind glass just isn't cutting it.

deep peace found on a cold night

Lying in bed talking with my husband late one January night, I found an even deeper sense of peace.

Yes, we talk in bed. Sometimes until ridiculous hours. Don't let the five kids thing fool ya. For us it is one of the rare opportunities to speak about anything, without fear of being overheard and interrupted. It isn't an every night occurrence. Most nights we fumble our way wearily to our bed, throw ourselves down and mumble an incoherent "love ya babe" before slipping into the sweet bliss of dreamland.

But on this particular January night, my husband reached over to hold my hand as he said, "It really was an awesome year." Quietness. I breathed deeply as images of camping trips, birthday parties, days at the lake, and Sunday morning Mass skipped across my mind. "Yeah, it was pretty awesome," I sighed. Almost with an ominous sense that maybe that was as good as it gets, and we shouldn't expect it to always be that way. As if sensing my less than optimistic thoughts, Chad replied, "Ya know, if I have you and these kids for the next year too, it will be just as awesome."

Deep peace.

It isn't where we went, or what we saw, or what we have acquired. It was who we were with through it all. I know that. But sometimes being reminded by my partner is exactly what I need.

In a palace or under a tree being with them is what matters most.

Over the course of the year, I watched friends send their loved ones off to fight in a foreign land. Wondering and waiting every second of every day for a year. I attended the funeral of a young man leaving behind his boys and young wife. I saw my nephew beat the curse of cancer while another family said good-bye to their little man.

I know what matters. But that cold night, lying close to my husband and thinking about all that had been, I knew in a deeper, truer way that the only thing I wanted to resolve for my upcoming year was to be part of it all. To love deeper, give more, laugh until I lose control, cry with those whom I love, and find new ways each day to lose more of my self for them.

Panning for gold

I don't know if the family schedule has tightened up, with the running hither and yon to practices and events. Or if the energy level has waned due to the former. Or if the creativity has suffered due to the energy waning due to the former. But for some reason my desire or inspiration to put pen to paper, in a manner of speaking, has lessened.

I think that I am settling.

Kind of like when you pan for gold. Which yes, I have done. If ever you are given the opportunity to be a tourist in South Dakota, you can hand over your own paper gold for the experience of feeling the excitement that the settlers did as they too sought the golden treasure. As you dig into the silt and rock at the bottom of the stream it is crucial that you move slowly and allow the rippling waters to sift through carrying all of the sand and worthless stuff away leaving only the rocks behind. If you are lucky blessed, you may even be looking at a gold nugget.

As a wife, mom, daughter and friend, that is what so much of my life has been about. Panning for the gold. Digging in, sifting through, and finding the nuggets. In the settling comes the good stuff. When formally I blogged daily, much of my blogging was a humorous attempt, okay not always so humorous, at making the everyday mundane seem less mundane. I wrote about my family, but often I also included my negative feelings about this that and the other thing.

I was digging and sifting. Discovering through experience and hopefully maturity what the nuggets looked like. At this point in my life so much LESS bothers me than ever before, because I can more easily identify the worthless sand from the gold.

I hope to find inspiration in new things. I love to write. Even if no one is reading. It is therapeutic for me, and it brings me joy to see my thoughts poured out somewhat coherently for others to reflect on as well.

So my infrequency is not because I have moved on from blogging. It isn't because I no longer enjoy this forum. I am just a bit more settled these days and a little less entertaining.