Her team won on Sunday, for the first time this season.
When we moved here, she was scarcely five years old.
They were all small then, and profoundly needy. My hands were full alright and writing helped me process the demands of, and lessons I was learning from, that early stage of motherhood.
Watching her out on that field holding her own, fiercely determined to guard her goalie despite any stumbles and hard knocks she had to endure, I marveled at her grit.
She's grown so much so fast.
They all have.
And I can't shake the longing to simply soak them in for awhile, minus the personal analyzations and often lengthy narratives I've relied on for the better part of a decade now to keep my perspectives in check.
I have less time than ever to sit and reflect.
My big kids are on the move, each with their own skills, schedules and budding dreams of independence.
I'm in "keeping up" mode. I want to be out there, all up in the details of their evolving personalities, activities and ambitions – seizing these "soccer/drama/gymnastics/etc. mom" days while they still exist – before they too pass in the blink of an eye as the last twelve years have.
And I've got a few small dreams of my own to pursue, now that I'm no longer tied to the consuming rhythms of infancy – to rocking chairs, naps and strollers. Maybe I'll take up jogging, enroll in a photography class, volunteer more at school and church.
I'm not getting any younger myself.
This is an exciting time, one I'm figuring out as I go – one that will require my full concentration.
Thus I am bidding for the summer this blog Adieu.
It feels strange and a little disorienting to walk away from this tiny slice of the internet into which I have poured my soul, blood, sweat and tears. And yet it also seems right and good.
To say I have appreciated you who have stopped by to encourage and inspire me would be an understatement most certainly. You simply have no idea what your kindness has meant to me.
I will miss you.
Peace and love to you, my friends.
Thanks again for everything!Read More
TRANSLATED BY MICHAEL HOFMANN
Spring is calling me, forcefully urging me to come out into it and "be." I've been driving myself pretty hard for awhile now. There are seasons for that; I am exiting one defined as "go, go, go" and entering another. I'm doing my best to listen to the wisdom of this new season, to obey the cues of my spirit and body.
I think walks are what I need – long ones, and coffee dates with neighbors. Replacing rushing about and planning ahead with absorbing the little details stitched together to form the present takes practice. It requires a deliberate decision to release some desires I'd bumped up to the category of "priorities," thus overfilling my schedule and diminishing my peace of mind.
Spring, unwind me like a kite that I might soar above the tension born of too many expectations and too few hours in the day. Unplug me, slow me down that I might inhale you – the beauty of you and the miracle of so much dead being reborn, and blooming.
Had I thought the world would end if I didn't keep up with my own vision of what a successful me should accomplish?
Oh look, it hasn't!
Letting go makes only sweeter that impromptu conversation with another mother at the park, the fourth book read to my son before bedtime, the unhurried moments on our screened-in porch, sipping wine, with my darling husband.
Spring, reign in my wandering attention.
Keep me closer to home.