surrendering

Tonight, I am writing you from the land of antibiotics and vick's vaporub and literally trying to breathe and so many mugs of tea + honey as this mama is down for the count with a bug. 

In this moment, I am surrendering to not making cookies or getting it all done or cooking from the pile of waiting recipes or being cheery.

I am surrendering to asking for help and letting Jon do almost all of it.

I am surrendering to asking for more time and saying no.

I am surrendering to disappointment and exhaustion.

I am surrendering to answering "what do you need right now" with the truth (and the truth was biscuits + lingonberry jam).

I am surrendering to unexpected laughter and a little girl's need for cuddles.

I am surrendering to the breath surrounding patience.

I am surrendering to tears.

I am surrendering to just being right here.

I am surrendering to rest.

I am surrendering to the choice that awaits in each moment.

a case of the melancholies with a side of joy

On Sunday afternoon, after my dad and stepmom and my brother and his girlfriend had left and the house was quiet because Ellie was napping, the melancholies set in.

I was so grateful to have everyone here. Saturday was a day I had been longing for in a way I hadn't realized I needed as a fantastic holiday meal was cooked (by my stepmom who made the best stuffing I have had in a long long time) as everyone talked and laughed in the family room that is right off of the kitchen. My house was filled with people I love and everyone seemed content to just be there. We opened gifts and Ellie was excited and a bit overwhelmed in the way a one year old is this time of year. 

It was just all over so quickly. And knowing we would not have any other family or loved ones around for the next two weeks simply made me feel sad. 

Sunday evening, after Ellie woke up from a long nap, she would not stop giggling. She kept wanting me to "chase" her around the kitchen table and into the kitchen and around to the hallway again again again. I've been keeping the camera away from my face and snapping at her height and I love what I am discovering when I look at the photos later. I can hear her laughter when I look at the photos above and see pure joy with a dash of mischievousness. These photos really capture her right now. 

As I think about all the feelings I am holding this week, this is what I know: I can miss my family and friends deeply and still know we are living where we are supposed to be right now. I can give myself the space to feel sad that we won't have loved ones here for Christmas. I can hold melancholy in one hand and joy and beauty in the other and find myself breathing deeply somewhere in the middle. 

This is life. Yes. This is living with my heart open to all of it.

something i've been thinking about

we live an entire life outside of the bits and pieces we share with others.
we live a life outside of facebook updates and blog posts and emails dashed off.
we live a life outside of the simple answers to "what did you do today?" and "how are you?" and "what's new?"
we live a life outside the assumptions and guesses and unanswered voicemails.
we live a life outside of the stolen, ignored, missed moments.
we live a life outside of the roles we play.
we live a life outside of who others think we must be.

we live an entire life 
inside
the home within us. 

i live an entire life outside of the bits and pieces i share with others. 
i live a life outside of facebook updates and blog posts and emails dashed off. 
i live a life outside of the simple answers to "what did you do today?" and "how are you?" and "what's new?"
i live a life outside the assumptions and guesses and unanswered voicemails.
i live a life outside of the stolen, ignored, missed moments.
i live a life outside of the roles i play.
i live a life outside of who others think i must be.

i live an entire life 
inside
the home within me. 

and today, knowing that truth is enough.

*****

and you, what have you been thinking about lately? what pulls at you in the quiet moments when you wish someone would see you?

creating space for all of it

Earlier today, I experienced a moment that surprised me as it opened me up (how grief often arrives in the cloak of surprise). Even though I come to this space a bit dishevled and vulnerable, I felt really called to just show up as me and share about this moment in a video post.

Also, the "Nona" I mention in this video is Nona Jordan. A post about my experience working with her (including how she is inviting me to finally let go of some major shame around money) is coming soon.

*****

If you would like to continue this conversation about creating space for grief and all of our experiences, consider joining me for Create Space, the ecourse that begins Monday. This is going to be a really intimate class that will give you the space to open your heart to joy, beauty, truth, love, and what is real in your life. As I gather up all that we will be exploring, I am so excited to share tools and stories that can be companions for you on your journey. Find out more about Create Space here.   

what is real (october 7)

mirror self-portrait (straight out of the camera) . frog creek lodge

one year later.

after everyone had gone to bed friday night, i stood in front of the mirror and couldn't help but smile wide at this girl i saw before me. she looked lighter and maybe even more real. and she looked beautiful.

these are the thoughts that went through my head: this is why i choose to seek the joy. this is why i let laughter in. this is why i know that all you need is love. this is why. this face of light and love is why.

hello you. hello me. it is so good to see you.

one year later.

yes.

*****

::what is real:: is a mirror self-portrait photo + a few words series that began in july of 2010. during the last year, i have noticed that the act of taking these photos feels like a meditation practice. before i take the photo, i stand in front of the mirror and think about what is real in this moment and let my face relax to wherever that truth lies. then i snap.

i document the series over on flickr but share them here from time to time.

i practice...

Around here, even though fall is still days away, the end of summer comes when Jon returns to school. This year, I am yearning for a schedule that this transition can bring while being gentle with myself as I realize that having a growing, inquisitive one year old means that a schedule will be hard to uncover most days. And I deeply get that this is part of what being a mama to a one year old is all about. At the same time, I remind myself that our day to day is a bit different from most people I know as her three times a day medication and other needs still rule our world over here. 

This time last year, almost every day I would take Ellie Jane outside for just a few minutes and show her the birds in the trees and the lavender and the maples leaves falling to the ground, and we would watch Millie run around the yard. We were singing "Beauty in the World" out loud at least ten times every day, and my own deeper understanding of the need to seek beauty and joy in the midst of all that life hands you began. I was standing tall inside hope and bravery and fear as we were counting down the days until her open-heart surgery. I remember saying variations of this to her over and over: Your only job is to live. Just be right here and breathe deep and eat and keep being you because there is so much for you to do and see and know. The world is waiting for you.

And today, as I watch her run around the yard finding leaves and little flowers and rocks, I believe that she heard me. I believe that she heard me when she was on the ventilator and I told her that when she wakes up and her heart is healed, she will be able to live big in the world. 

Part of my current practice is letting go of wanting to know what the day will bring. I take a breath and try to notice what I need while being aware of what Ellie Jane seems to need in a given moment. Until this summer, we were encouraged not to take her many places to avoid the possibility of her getting sick. And now that Jon is back to school, I am finding that I need to reprogram my mind in a way with a new understanding of what my days alone with Ellie can look like. Meaning, for months, the only outings she and I would take were to the cardiologist's and pediatrician's offices. I didn't take her to the store or the park or for walks along Puget Sound because we just worried so much about her getting sick. My heart hurts a bit thinking about all that we did not do and all that she has been through (that we have been through).

Last week, as she napped, I was feeling overwhelmed. I sat there on the couch and closed my eyes and found my breath. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. Feel the space the breath creates. As I took a few moments to just be still, I reminded myself of all that I already know. I reminded myself that we walked through this time last year and the weeks that followed, so oh my goodness get out of the house girl and walk through these days too. These days that are full of laughter and joyful games and exploring all that awaits. These days that are full of so much more than I even thought they could be. These days that push me to beyond tired and remind me of what is real. These days that I want to look back on and say: We found our way. We napped. We explored. We danced. We laughed. We cried. We made it. We lived big.

So we are starting here: We are walking to the neighborhood coffee shop that is so much closer to home than I realized. Here Ellie Jane can have a strawberry smoothie with whipped cream yes please, and on this walk, she can say hi to people we pass and the birds she sees and the squirrels who run across our path. And I can take my camera to capture the small moments that are just outside our door, so that I will always remember how I chose to find beauty again and again and again.

over here...

one very small dahlia . point defiance park, august 2011

goodness it has been quite a week over here. the usual living stuff combined with jon's return to school and the schedule that brings combined with some pushes and pulls that have me a bit off kilter.

i'm trying to remember the self-care tricks i have up my sleeve while also chasing an always-on-the-move 15-month-old little girl. i'm trying to fit it all in somehow. i'm trying to breathe more than worry. i'm trying to quiet the chatter within. i'm trying to put family first while caring for my dreams. i'm trying to soak up the last few days of blue skies and warmth. i'm trying to let go and listen.

i guess the truth is that in some ways, i'm trying to find my way as i look for all that i already know...as i look for the light that is (always) waiting.

i hope this weekend brings you moments to rest and laugh and breathe it all in...and maybe a cupcake. yes. a cupcake would be perfection right about now, don't you think?

blessings,
liz

this time...

these full of joy photos are such a contrast to this time last year...

this time last year we were waist deep in please let us get through this. please let her grow, thrive, live.

this time last year we were standing on the edge of knowing open-heart surgery was to come for a baby weighing less than 10 pounds.

this time last year my body was trying to heal in the midst of everything else.

this time last year i stood tall as a mother, as a woman, as a warrior, in ways i never imagined.

this time last year i couldn't remember a night filled with restful sleep.

this time last year i was afraid to admit that parts of my experience giving birth had been traumatic in every sense of that word.

this time last year i couldn't remember what my own laughter sounded like.

this time last year i had just finished the final edits of my book.

this time last year i began a practice of honoring what is real in my life, and i began to see the beauty in that real.ness.

this time last year i found myself blessed to realize i had loved ones and complete strangers around the world praying for our little family.

this time last year i was far far away from what "most people" experience when they bring home their child from the hospital.

this time last year i was shedding all expectations.

this time last year i was realizing what be present meant at its core.

this time last year i was longing for the sea and hoping she would heal me.

this time last year we wondered if her eyes would stay so blue.

this time last year i had never heard her laughter.

this time last year i held onto the poetry of mary oliver in the hopes that it would keep me tethered to truth.

this time last year i stepped out of a few roles i had been playing for far too long.

this time last year i began to think that a heart breaks and mends with each breath thoughout a lifetime.

this time last year i would close my eyes to rest but still see the green line and hear the beeping.

this time last year i could fall asleep in the middle of almost anything.

this time last year i had never been more aware of all that i did not know and all that i could not control.

in this moment, i sink into the beauty that is the loud with living laughter of a little girl taking her first unaided steps as she walks back and forth between her mama and daddy.

in this moment, i sink into the beauty that is a little girl who is so brave and strong and full of joy as she stands tall in simply being 13 months old. 

and in this moment, i begin to rest my tired eyes with a soft sigh because i know that even in the midst of all that pulls on my mind and heart, we are so blessed.