… and starting

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After a holiday, after a sleep, after a pause or a rest, there is the time when you start again. The time when you pick up the things that have to be done and the things you want to do. But you also have to implement the decisions that were made in the clarity of the pause.

That is the hard yards. Some things have been easy, like culling the blogs I read, others harder like trying to go on social media fewer times a day. Some things are easy like deciding I need to trust my own voice. But it is much harder to open my mouth and actually speak (or write as the case may be).

It is very easy when you return from a holiday to fall back into old patterns, like familiar old clothes that actually don’t really fit anymore, or look any good, but they feel so comfortable you keep wearing them. It is much harder to try to establish new patterns, new habits, new ways of thinking.

So what’s the solution? I don’t know. But what works for me is: starting with the little things, the easy things and working up to the hard ones; remembering that if I fail I can try again; giving myself grace (I have called this blog onlyhalfwaythere for a reason). It looks more like a slow slog than a radical reinventing of my life, but I know that even a little bit of progress is a start.

… and listening …

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The interesting thing for me about letting myself stop and letting my mind relax, was the way that I suddenly noticed the clutter in my head.

I don’t know about you, but I am very good at seeing clutter in my house, and tackling it. Whether that is buying more clutter holding boxes, or shifting piles of stuff to somewhere less unsightly, or actually dealing with said pile. But the internal clutter, that’s not so obvious.

And after of few days of stopping, I started thinking that maybe I needed to cut down on the number of voices speaking to me each day. Maybe I needed to edit the number of blogs in my reader. Strip it right back to those I really connect to for some reason. Maybe I needed to hide some feeds in Facebook. Maybe I needed to just limit my time on social media. Maybe I need to stop flipping idly through magazines and actually try to read another book.

Maybe I need to trust that this voice that God gave me is enough. Maybe I need to trust his gift to me. Nurture and develop it, yes. Work on it and strengthen it, and some of that is inevitably through reading other people. But maybe I need to shut out some of those voices too, to hear the voice I have been given, to say the things I have been given to say. Maybe …

on stopping …

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I have recently been tackling a difficult area of my life. My inability to stop. Or to put it another way, my need to constantly fill every moment of my day with something. For all of my posts and resolutions at the beginning of the year about being careful about what I take on, and resting in the silence, I have still found that I am very occupied.

Then I came to the realisation that it was intentional, it was me, I was filling up my days, my hours and my minutes, because I was afraid of stopping. I was afraid of what my mind might do, where it might take me. I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out, and so I kept going, knowing it was unhealthy and ultimately not what I wanted for myself, but I did it anyway.

We have just recently returned from an overseas holiday, and one part of that time away was spent at a seaside resort. So I was in a situation where I couldn’t clean, cook, or wash. I was in a situation with limited wi-fi access, so I couldn’t keep up with emails, blogs, Facebook or pintrest. I didn’t have a choice, I stopped.

It was okay.

I actually enjoyed it.

I actually found it freeing.

I had time to think, to journal, to rest. I read a whole book! (I know unbelievable!). My mind didn’t take me anywhere scary, it just relaxed and breathed. I came back from that holiday, rested and refreshed. Turns out stopping was the best thing for me.

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the hard good days

There are some days that are good days and some that are bad. Some that are easy and some that are hard. Some that are fun and some that are not. But the most difficult days of all are the hard good days.

Those days when outwardly you are celebrating and inside you are falling apart. Those days when you live in a place of turmoil, a place where you are genuinely happy and just as genuinely heartbroken.

That place where the desires of your heart do not match the reality of your life.

If this is you today I want to say, I have been there, I know, I understand. If this is you today, I want to say, it’s okay to feel that way, don’t try to add to your own inner turmoil by fighting your own emotions. If this is you today I ask my God to give you peace.

Jodie

there is always something

Bubba Girl is almost two, and she knows it. She has started exerting her will in situations, making demands, having tantrums, and generally being two.

Last week we were in full-scale battles about meals. She would look at the plate of food, not even try it and state, “don’t like this mummy”. This week we have been in full-scale battles about sleep, “not tired mummy”.

Finally, after two rather testing weeks, I put Bubba Girl to bed for her afternoon sleep, and she slept! I placed dinner in front of her and she ate it! And do you know what I thought? I thought, “Gosh, I should really make her use her cutlery more”.

Isn’t it interesting that my first thought wasn’t to celebrate the little successes in the day, but my first thought was to focus on the next thing? And the trap with this way of thinking is this, “in parenting there is always something”. There is always something that needs to be worked on, there is always something to teach, better manners, more independence, a new skill. I am in danger of never celebrating the achievements of my children, and just rushing them on to the next thing.

Once more I am reminded that I need to stop and celebrate the little things. I think I am going to find life a lot more fun if I do, and I have a feeling my girls might too!

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the illusion of poise

I got a text from my friend yesterday and it said “I am not handling life gracefully”, and I thought “me either”. Then I started thinking, what exactly is it in us that says we have to handle life gracefully? Where did this illusion that we should sail through life with poise and grace, and not a pearl out-of-place come from?

When I think of someone with poise I immediately think of Audrey Hepburn, and the iconic character of Holly Golightly in “Breakfast at Tiffany’s”. But the thing that we love about Holly, the thing that makes that movie so interesting is that we know she is living with poise but no emotion. We love that scene at the end where she suddenly ‘feels’ and is a blubbering mess.

Another good friend is leaving today, to live on the other side of the world. I am not handling this gracefully, and what’s more I don’t think she’d want me to. When I turn up at the airport tonight to wave her off, she is not going to know that I care, if I stand there, and graciously and gently say goodbye. She is going to know that I care because I will be an absolute blubbering mess. The mess is reality. And poise? That’s just an illusion.

the long short days

I feel like I am living in the long days of parenting. Those days when you spend all morning doing the same jigsaw with Bubba Girl, then find it was actually only 5 minutes. Those days when hanging the washing, or doing the dishes, or having a shower are accompanied by (if I’m lucky) 1000 questions or (if I’m not) the necessity to arbitrate a peace treaty and prevent world war three.

Those days where after the kids are in bed, the parenting continues as you sort clothes, make lunches, clean up the table where the girls have painted with their yoghurt. Those days where you get to the end of the day and you say, “just what exactly, did I do all day today?”

Yet these are also the short days, somehow they seem to fly by. The days drag but the weeks speed past, the minutes lag but somehow we are in April. Bubba girl is truly no longer a bubba (next month she will be two … although she will always be my Bubba Girl). Little Miss is growing in her independence and learning to take responsibility for her things, so much so that at times I turn to Mr and say “we have to remember how young our oldest still is”.

There is a danger in these long short days, of wishing the day away, mechanically going through the motions until bed, surviving. And yes, some days that is actually not just a danger but reality. But the majority of the days are not about survival, they are about living life, enjoying the moment, breathing and doing that jigsaw again, relishing the moments when there is a (temporary) détente, appreciating the creativity of the child even with yoghurt (no … that’s too much of a stretch!).

It’s about perspective, and remembering that these long days are also short.

the worst form of procrastination

I have been having a conversation with Mr of late, about the stuff I am reading. The myriad of blogs, and the links that follow that lead into a rabbit warren of differing opinions and ideas. Now don’t misunderstand me here, learning from others is great, finding people who you absolutely identify with through their writing is amazing, and reading to broaden your outlook is definitely a good thing. But for me right now, I am doing too much reading, and not enough being.

I have a pintrest board full of cooking ideas, but I am uninspired in the kitchen. I have a myriad of possible activities I want to try (one day) with the girls, but I am overwhelmed by the choices and so don’t do any. I am reading some great stuff about being creative, about being the person God created me to be, about living out of that place. But I am doing no writing. All I have to show is an amazon cart full of possible books to buy that could further inspire me (note inherent procrastination here, not yet purchased, or shipped, or heaven forbid read).

And this, this is the worst form of procrastination. I feel like I am progressing, I feel like I am constantly inspired, but the creativity remains dormant. I am caught in a vicious circle of other people’s wonderful ideas, with no tangible creations of my own. And I wonder why I am feeling frustrated and why I am not feeling energised.

True creativity starts in the head and heart, yes, with a flicker of an idea, a deep gut inspiration, but there must be some action, some outworking that follows. That recipe needs to be cooked before you can taste it. No matter how much you are inspired by the picture it will give no nourishment. And the same goes for the writing and the activities with the girls. No amount of thinking about things makes them happen, sometimes you just have to stop the procrastination and create.

tension and relaxation

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tension

I collect quotes. Snippets of inspiration jotted down on scraps of paper float around my desk and my study, usually for months, sometimes for years. The really lucky ones get printed and put on my pinup board, (and let’s just say pintrest has been a godsend for me in this regard).

This is one of my favourites, and today it is speaking to me more than ever. Why? Because I feel tense,  the familiar upper back/neck tension I get when I have been working in the garden (which I have) or picking up the kids too much (yes, they are getting heavier) or just letting things get on top of me (that can’t be right!).

I am worrying too much; about how I parent, how I reach my little girls hearts in just the right way for each of their very different personalities; about all the minutae that needs to get done, washing, dishes, dinner, emptying bins, more gardening; about the things I think I place upon myself that I think I have to do (anyone notice … no ‘month of Sundays’ posts recently).

These things, all things I think I should be … tension.

What am I? … breathe.
I am a loving mother to my beautiful girls … relax
I am an adequate housekeeper for this house we make home … breathe
I am the provider of nourishing meals to my family … relax
I am a source of cuddles and kisses and comfort … breathe
just be … and relax

that’d be nice

As I take my girls on the school run, I often see a woman walking in our neighbourhood. She is pushing a pram with her golden retriever trotting along beside her. I see her and I love the image, going for a walk in the morning with baby and a dog. And I think to myself “we should get a dog … that’d be nice”.

When I actually stop and think about this, I know that even if I did have a dog we would not go for peaceful early morning walks with the pram, as most mornings we are rushing out the door. When I actually stop and think about it, I know that a dog is not a good idea in our busy lives right now (maybe one day, hey Mr?). When I actually stop and think about it, that image although beautiful to me is not what would happen in my reality. When I actually stop and think about it, I don’t want a dog right now.

I often find myself looking at the lives of total strangers and thinking “that’d be nice”, or listening to other parents and thinking “I should be doing that”, or visiting homes or blogs or pintrest and thinking “wouldn’t it be great if I could”.

But often when I really think about these things, I don’t want to do these things at all. They appear great on the outside, but in reality, for various reasons they don’t fit our lives right now, or our parenting ethos, or our plans for the future.

In reality I don’t need a dog. But my friend has fish … maybe that’d be nice …

Source: etsy.com via Jodie on Pinterest

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