September Daybook

September 17, 2023 / Stacie / 1 Comment

Outside my window…it’s beautiful. Still in the 90s during the days, but the evenings have cooled off and it’s nice to have even a bit of a break from the heat…sure makes evening cross country meets almost bearable. (Do you want to hear my opinion on Texas and the cross country season? I doubt it. Let me just say that we really should march to the beat of our own drum…change the season to late September thru November…you know, when it’s beautiful running weather here…let the rest of the country follow our lead.)

I am remembering…our adventure at The Yard this past summer. Overpriced dessert (but I did get to keep the glass so there’s that) but fun to experience something so extravagantly out of the norm for us…and to experience colors like William’s and Katie’s that are clearly not found in nature.

I am thankful for…another photographer in the house to catch moments like these…

*Photos by Katie Satery

I am watching…Perfect Strangers. Why don’t they make shows like this anymore? Or is it nostalgia that makes me think this show is so fabulous? “Don’t be ridiculous.”

I am wondering…what’s the story here.

I am hoping…for a fall full of low humidity, perfect temps and open windows kind of days.

I am pondering…the complexities of sibling relationships. Sometimes these two get along brilliantly…other days, not even close. As in, I want to run from the room screaming when they’re near each other.

I am laughing…at this…I feel threatened by this tiny thing clearly indicating that she’s got her eyes on someone…the question is…did her opponent (who was Joseph) feel the heat?

I am planting…nothing. On the contrary, I am pulling every heat-stressed, dead plant from my garden and preparing the beds for fall.

I am reflecting…on this thought by William Martin…

Do not ask your children
to strive for extraordinary lives.
Such striving may seem admirable,
but it is the way of foolishness.
Help them instead to find the wonder
and the marvel of an ordinary life.
Show them the joy of tasting
tomatoes, apples and pears.
Show them how to cry
when pets and people die.
Show them the infinite pleasure
in the touch of a hand.
And make the ordinary come alive for them.
The extraordinary will take care of itself.

Around the house…the usual (will this ever get more exciting?)…laundry, cooking, schooling.

In the schoolroom…we just wrapped up week 11 of the new school year (Joseph is a Junior, William is a Freshman, Andrew is in 7th and Katie in 5th) so beginning on Monday, we start our exam week. Curious to see how they do and how well they’ve retained what they’ve learned these last 11 weeks…it has been a full schedule and a busy term. While I was reluctant to let go of planning on my own, I’m enjoying The Alveary’s book choices and the ease of weekly planning.

I am wearing…a Frio River t-shirt (so, so soft cotton) with blue shorts. Blue on blue. I’m making a terrible fashion statement.

We are preparing for…adventure.

Someday I am going to miss…the early morning runs, waiting for the starting signal to go off while standing beneath the scorching Texas sun, the thrill of watching my kids cross the finish line, the overall busyness of cross country season.

I am reading…The Blue Castle by L.M. Montgomery. I’ve been excited to read this one for awhile…it’s one of her less well known novels but it gets high praise from folks who love Anne of Green Gables.

One of my favorite things…hiking with this gang.

A peek into my day…

Please visit The Simple Woman’s Daybook for more daybook entries.

{this moment}

September 15, 2023September 17, 2023 / Stacie / Leave a comment

{this moment} – A Friday ritual. A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. If you’re inspired to do the same, leave a link to your ‘moment’ in the comments for all to find and see.

Photo credit: Katie

{this moment}

September 8, 2023September 8, 2023 / Stacie / 1 Comment

Change

December 27, 2022December 31, 2022 / Stacie / 6 Comments

When they were little, I had them all to myself. We spent our days living, moving, breathing altogether.

I took those days for granted. I complained about their neediness. I blogged solely to keep my focus on the good that was mixed up and mashed in with whiny children, peanut butter sticky fingers and messy floors. I learned to seek gratitude; to look at life through a focused lens; to appreciate each moment, despite its difficulty. I captured events and memorialized all the little moments that added up to days well lived.

I learned a dance that involved a whole lot of backwards and forwards and sideways turns that came unexpectedly. But I danced alongside them.

Now they’re growing up.

And I have to share them (I’ve never been good at sharing).

I’ve been relegated to the sidelines (Although I still try to get some time in the game).

But it’s not a little give and take anymore.

Western Box Turtle (reptiles and amphibians), Cherryville, MO

It’s no longer a backwards and forwards dance.

It’s a solo dance where they take center stage and I stand backstage, holding my breath, watching. Just watching.

It’s so different. They’re pulling away.

Seeking independence.

Testing the waters of life beyond these four walls. They stick their toes in ever so hesitantly at first. But soon I notice they gain confidence and the hesitant first dip quickly becomes a plunge.

Already I miss them and that intricate life we carved out so many years ago.

I miss the early morning snuggles on the couch and the quiet awakening of the household. I miss the rocks in the pockets and the sand in their shoes. I miss the unadulterated adoration. I miss the superhero outfits, the inside-out, backwards shirts and the shoes on the wrong feet. I miss the bedtime routine of a story, a gentle massage, a heart to heart talk that often included a complete confession of the day they lived. I miss the quiet schedule, the intense playtime, the hours outside living a life imagined.

I miss the spontaneity of the little years; the unpredictability of what they might say; the togetherness that came so naturally to the life we chose to live. I miss the nature walks that were filled with wonder and new discoveries; the hours spent on a trail without any rushing; without something else pressing to do. I miss the natural gravitation of my children to gather ’round me; to beg for my attention (“Mommy, watch this!”); to seek my approval; to want to be near me doing whatever it is that I’m doing. I miss the ease with which I made decisions and set the framework for our family to follow.

I miss the obvious things, too…like not having a teen around with attitude; not being questioned about every decision I make; not having to juggle so many schedules, so many events and still manage to squeeze in so much needed downtime and rest.

I miss not wondering how each and every decision I make will affect who they become; will it stilt their progress, will it stump their growth, will it deter them, devour them, guide them, ruin them.

It sure seemed a bit easier when they were little.

But I suppose easier isn’t always fruitful. Or nurturing. Or life-changing. Sometimes it’s just easier because we don’t want harder.

Growth and change aren’t typically comfortable. Or easy.

A little tug here, a little discomfort here. A little push here, a little pull there. It’s not easy, that process of change. And maybe that’s why it has the potential to be so amazing. Because the tough stuff makes us, well, tougher. The difficulties force us out of our comfort zone and push us into the unknown where we learn quickly to sink or swim. Survival of the fittest and all that jazz.

I don’t like this change (actually I don’t like much change).

I don’t like the rush of moving on to their next phase without even having a moment. A moment to reflect; a moment to pause; a moment to reassess. A moment to plan. A moment to just stare at them as they are right at this exact moment. To soak up every little detail because when I blink, it will all change.

I don’t like not being able to catch my breath, to take a look backwards, to appreciate that last moment before plunging into the next.

I don’t like being forced to look in the mirror and reflect on myself (which so often happens in the world of parenting).

But it looks like this isn’t about me.

It’s about them.

And they’re growing.

And they’re pulling away.

And it’s my job to simply keep up. To move along the sidelines while the game keeps going. To keep my eyes focused on the movement as it blurs right past me.

This road definitely doesn’t feel easy. And I feel unprepared.

But I think there might just be something beautiful and amazing along the way if I can just learn to trust the process. Let me refocus my lens over here. Push myself out of my comfort zone. Close my eyes for a brief second and breathe into what’s coming next.

As they grow, I grow. And as I grow, they grow. And our individual, yet ever connected gardens might just exponentially beautify the world around us. But it won’t happen without change.

And so I change; and they change; and for this brief period, I’ll embrace change.

And we’ll see where the journey takes us.

{this moment}

December 9, 2022December 7, 2022 / Stacie / Leave a comment

the secret’s in the gratitude

July 17, 2021 / Stacie / 1 Comment

Sometimes it’s really easy to get caught up in everything around us. Caught up and swept away. Before we know it, a little disappointment and dissatisfaction creeps in. Suddenly the grass is greener on the other side. Greener on any side but our own.

It’s hard to see the forest because of the trees.

But I’ve learned a little secret.

The secret is truly in the gratitude.

The secret is in choosing to see what is right before me and then acknowledging the moment with gratitude.

The world is truly so big and it’s so very easy for us to get lost in it. And so we have to find a way to carve our space into it. And we do that through intentional choices. Through noticing the little things.

Through finding something right where we are to be grateful for.

It’s about learning to look and really see. To touch and really feel. To hear but really listen. Because it’s all there. Hidden in a million ways. Embedded in our lives, moment to moment.

Sometimes it’s harder to see it than other times. (Think Corrie ten Boom and the flea infestation in the Nazi prison and the way her sister was able to show her how to find gratitude even in the midst of desolation and trial.)

It can be hard to choose to see what’s right in front of us and then choose to be grateful for it, no matter what it may be.

We’re a pretty forward thinking people (and sometimes a backward looking people, too). We’re a bit like the Roman god Janus with two faces, one looking forward to the future while the other looks back to the past. But what about what’s right in front of us? What’s right beneath our feet at this exact moment?

I choose to look down. And up. And beside me. To see what’s right here. In this moment.

It isn’t always easy. And it takes effort.

But isn’t it worth it?

Summer Daybook

July 9, 2021July 9, 2021 / Stacie / Leave a comment

Outside my window…it’s rainy. Oh so rainy. As in, rain every day for the last week. Downpours and sprinkles and gusts of wind. We haven’t floated away {yet} but we have managed to get muddy, lose our electricity for almost 12 hours and make remarkable use out of our rainboots and raincoats (that typically collect dust here in the summer months).

I am remembering…the last time I wrote a Daybook. December of 2019. I was sure I wrote a recent one, but the most recent one I could find was simply a draft of one I began in March of 2020 called Pandemic Daybook. I just up and quit in the middle of it, as if a sweeping plague was more important than the little moments that make up my life. Hindsight is a glorious thing. Of course leaving a year and a half unwritten is telling in and of itself. But I’ll save those thoughts for a different post.

I am thankful for…would it be too hypocritical of me to wax gratitude about the glorious rain even though a moment ago I almost seemed ungrateful? Because the truth is, I enjoy the rain. I relish the view from the window. I love the excuse to snuggle up with a book {completely guilt free} and I am incredibly grateful for the vibrant green I see peeking out of every outdoor corner right now. This is the first summer in South Texas that I have ever NOT had to water my garden yet it still overflows with beautiful green, healthy plants. Water is an amazing thing.

*Lest you think I’m kidding about how well my garden grows, here’s proof…we returned from Colorado and I’m pretty sure I heard a voice in the yard saying “Feed me, Seymour.” It’s now all been cut back and it looks respectable to the neighbors, but it was a wild jungle there for a brief moment.

I am watching…children grow. And grow. And grow. Mostly my own, but those we’ve known for years, too. And like the wise old crone of fairy tales, I’m finally beginning to understand how quickly time passes. There is wisdom (but no comfort) in knowing that “the present moment is all you ever have” (Eckhart Tolle).

I am wondering…how I have never heard of this novel until now. Glad it came across my radar and that Joseph and I are able to enjoy it together.

I am hoping…you won’t mind if I share a bit of my herbal journey with you. Pop over to my herbal school’s website to read my herbal bio and celebrate my Student of the Month accomplishment with me! {I still remember being student of the month in 2nd grade and filling out the poster that would hang near our classroom door for one long glorious month…this blog post, while not as messy as my poster circa 1988 with all the glitter, glue and crayons I used, was still just as rewarding to write!}

I am pondering…the beauty of my new planner. You know when the box it arrives in speaks such wisdom, it’s going to be a fruit filled year.

I am laughing…about this sleeping dog…maybe he has been watching me sleep with my mouth open?

I am planting…well there’s not much room left to plant anything so we are just reaping what we’ve sown. And it’s all delicious. (Pickles are just about ready, too!)

I am reflecting…on this kid and admiring his ability to march to the beat of his own drum.

Around the house…it’s pretty routine over here these days. Our summer vacation officially ended on June 27th and we started our new school year on the 28th (Katie in 3rd grade; Andrew in 5th grade; William in 7th grade; Joseph in (!!) 9th grade). We’ve spent the last two weeks just carving out routine again. And it’s quite lovely, if you ask my opinion. I love routine.

I am wearing…black capris and a Green Ember t-shirt (yep, that’s right…)

We are preparing for…nothing. And it’s just glorious. Birthday season has come and gone. Maybe I’ll think about stocking up on some water since we’re knee deep in hurricane season, but other than that, there’s nothing big on the horizon (unless I try to pinpoint what the next annoying 2020/21 thing could be…but I wasn’t able to predict the pandemic or the freeze of February 2021 or the crazy rain back in May that caused our city’s dam to break or the wild rain we’ve had this past week so I’m guessing all my predicting would be wasted effort…I’d prefer to just plug along day by day over here).

Someday I am going to miss…snuggling with this guy.

I am reading…Metaphor-phosis by (one of my amazing teachers at East West!) Lesley Tierra and Live Not By Lies by Rod Dreher (SERIOUSLY, SO good).

One of my favorite things…mountains. And me in them. {This trip deserves a post all of its own so I’ll add that to my “to blog about” list and share it with you soon}.

A peek into my day…

Please visit The Simple Woman’s Daybook for more daybook entries.

Winter

January 27, 2021 / witheveryintention / 2 Comments

Winter is notoriously difficult for me.

Maybe it’s the lack of sun. Or the lack of green. Or the lack of warmth. I’m not really sure. I just know it’s hard.

I want to hunker down. Hibernate almost. Curl into a ball, cover myself with a warm quilt. Wake me when the sun comes out and the earth turns green. Wake me when the birds are chirping and the buds are forming. Wake me when the dismal days gradually turn to spring; when life begins to blossom; when there’s a new season on the horizon.

Maybe this is instinctual. A cyclical mechanism built in me to honor the passing of time. Maybe this is meant to be a time to hunker down. A time to withdraw. A time to turn inward; to set intentions; to dream of the spring yet to come.

I’m not really sure.

All I know is that yesterday I saw green. Cleavers and chickweed, henbit and shepherd’s purse and my heart smiled. I could almost smell spring. It’s only January so I know there is still time. Time for the overcast days of winter to linger. Time for life to rest. Time for withdrawing and waiting and dreaming.