ears of my heart

For the second time this week, I've been racked with silent sobs at daily Mass. Mind you, it's Tuesday.

Neither time has it been about the Message in the Book as much as it has been a message to my heart. One that is less in words as it is in feeling. Less decipherable than knowable.

And yet I have very little idea what it could be.
Unable even to recite the words of the Lord's Prayer for the emotion, and instead being enveloped in the words as they are spoken around me, feeling simultaneously confused and grateful, I know something is there, is coming, is so very near. I know Someone is standing beside me.

And the thought of it is overwhelming.

And the silent sobs come. I let them.

Mind you, it's Tuesday.

a morning off

One of the perks of working in a school is having the day off when the kids do. (I know many businesses have the day off today, too, but my husband would not if he hadn't taken a vacation this week.) At one time, a day off like this would have meant a day trip somewhere, or a weekend up at Mom and Dad's or something. Anymore, it just means a lazy wake up, and a bit of hanging around.

Today, having the morning off meant snuggling in with Guy and both the dogs, coffee in bed while goofing off on my laptop, and a walk with a dear friend while Guy is at practice. Afterwards, we'll get the porch ready to paint, have lunch, and drop Mom and Henry off for appointments before Guy goes to practice again this evening. I'm looking forward to the short week, even though the calendar is already jammed with appointments, soccer game security, a letter or two to write, and Homecoming to cap off the week. It'll be a good busy, for once. My entire outlook is better, and I have my family and my faith to thank.

I continue to pray for the strength to just be myself. I've discovered the power in being true to oneself, as it allows me to let my faith guide me as much as my gut. I'm also very thankful for all I have in my life: my family, my husband, my peace of mind. This is where I should be, and where I intend to jump off from for the rest of my journey. Life is more the journey than any destination, and I am well on my way. I have a map for when I need it--for when I get lost--but mostly, I make it up as I go along. With me, I finally have the right companions, with Faith as my guide.

What a beautiful morning. I feel so alive!

morning bliss

Morning coffee time is wonderful. One of my favorite times. This morning, I'm sitting with my coffee and two dogs, browsing on my computer, and I am alone. Blissfully alone. Guy is at a swim meet, the boys are still asleep, and, for all intents and purposes, so are the dogs. It's been a long time since I've enjoyed my coffee alone; just me and my thoughts. And, truly, I realize I've missed it.

Not that I don't love my usual mornings lately: weekday runs before sunrise, and coffee at work; Saturday mornings chatting with Guy over coffee; Sundays on the porch with coffee and the paper. I love all of that, too. There's just something special about being able to savor the moment alone, and be content with it, while looking forward to my own plans for the day.

As I sit here, I've scrolled through my Facebook news feed, cleaned up my email folders, and peeked at my blogger stats. I almost opened Post Secret, but realized it's Saturday morning, not Sunday, and laughed out loud at myself. I've picked up the bits of trash the dogs pulled out of the wastebasket while Guy and I had our weekly hammock date, and resolved to tie it up and take it out after I remove my nail polish. I've debated the priority of altering the curtains in the living room--start today, or sometime next week? I've considered whether I want to do some more weeding (before or after yoga?) today, since the forecast today is better than the last one I saw for today. And how much time will I need to get ready for the wedding we are going to tonight?

Guy and I have an ongoing debate about which is the better time of day. He likes the moments before sleep comes, when he reviews his day, and mentally shuts down. I, on the other hand, prefer morning-time, when I can plan and reorganize my day, without the  obstacles of other people's plans, wants and needs. I over plan my days. Not in the sense that I structure it too much. Rather, in the morning, the day seems so big, so full of possibilities, that I tend to want to accomplish more than will fit in the hours available. Funny, though, that is not the case at work: there I am pretty accurate in my predictions of how much I have time to accomplish. For that reason alone, I know it is not an inability to plan; more it is excitement at the vast possibilities, the scope of a blank day.

Especially one that is unexpected. I had planned on going to the swim meet today, to see Henry swim, but his shoulder hurts, and his physical therapist recommended waiting a little longer. Being at the meet would have taken the entire morning, and by the time we got home and got something to eat, would have taken us right up to get-dressed-for-the-wedding time. Therefore, this blank slate of a day is a gift, of sorts, and like a piece of artwork, I try many alternative spots before deciding to hammer a nail in the wall. Tomorrow I will immerse myself in a swim meet, watching Joseph.

Meanwhile, I will indulge in my coffee alone. Content.

molehills and mountains

This morning, as on so many other "easy mornings" -- the occasions few and far between when we have no specific reason or time to wake -- for so many years, I woke before my husband, and got to watch him sleep. Of the many things that marriage "is," I think observing him in his sleep is one of my favorites. The peacefulness, the hint of a smile, the hint of a young boy in his face all intrigue me. Usually, I can only resist a light kiss on his nose, his forehead or his hand for fifteen minutes or so. Many times, I get up then and sew, write, make coffee and breakfast. Today, though, I grabbed my book and read.

I suppose it's just the turning of the pages that draws him out of his slumber; I don't know exactly. Before long this morning -- just four or six pages -- I heard him say, "I just don't know how you do it. I am still so very tired. I'm exhausted." Not wanting to make noise, in case he wanted to sleep some more (his eyes were not even opened yet), I smiled in response. Our son needed to get to band camp, and had asked that I get him up in time, which is why I had not snuggled back in again when I awoke. We had walked to the high school football game last night, stopped at our friends' house on the way home to visit, and, after walking home, discovered our youngest son was still up, and, since our second son was in transit from the game and post-game activities, we had a couple of texts to wait for. By the time we got to sleep, it was sometime around 1am. Today was a good day for an easy morning!

Tomorrow we can have one more -- the last for a while. Saturday morning practices, meets and competitions begin next week, along with a trip for me. The next easy morning we can foresee will be around Thanksgiving. For many years, I've dreaded the loss of this special time together for the long season our family's preferred sport covers. For the first time since we've had children, I'm not looking at the change as being "bad," per se. Rather, I find myself looking forward to the holiday breaks, of course, but more to the renewed day to day interactions and making the most of each bit of time we do get to share. Easy mornings are no longer the only times I see as "our time" together. We have time -- we make time -- far more easily than ever before. Next week, it will take more creative thinking, that's for sure! But, for the first time in a very, very long time (read: a decade, maybe??) the challenge seems smaller; a molehill rather than a mountain.

Our easy mornings now melt into our easy days. For that, I am eternally grateful, and say so as much as possible. Love is beautiful (and patient and kind, and doesn't judge and all that good stuff, too!)