Tag Archives: breathe

Life, unedited.

The clock ticks rudely and I never realized how loud the fridge really is.

Muffled laughter seeps in from the neighbors and I can hear a train several blocks away.

It’s noisy here in the quiet.

My house is a little messy, but it’s clean under those toys, thanks to Rose.

On the shelves sits a plant starting to droop, asking for a drink. I forgot again today. Even looking at it now, I think – she’ll be ok until tomorrow.

There’s a printed out calendar sheet on the fridge at waist level with big green numbers counting down the sleeps until we “take suitcase on pane to ‘merica”.

Several boxes of ziplock bags are stacked in the corner containing blades and gloves and soap and things that one might see as “stuff” and another might see as a chance at life.

A small pile of baby clothes outgrown, folded neatly on the chair. Ready to fly to an island to be traded for fish so they can clothe Jesus there.

My eyes blur, my jaws clenched (again), and my shoulders raised too close to my ears.

I think about the bathtub I hope to one day have.

Relax. Breathe. Sleep. Those things have been hard lately.

But there’s a strange sweetness in the struggle. Prayers in the form of one and two and three-word pleas.

He answers, you know.

I wait for it.

But sometimes the wait is hard.

And sometimes cookies really do make things better. (I never understood comfort food before. But now I want some cookies.)

He answers, you know.

 

STOP.

 

Love,
A

 

Click Clink Five| Five minutes a day, unedited

 

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Breastfeeding: God-ordained “coffee breaks”

I always joke that since moms don’t get “time off” or to clock out or take coffee breaks, time spent breastfeeding is God’s way of giving us an excuse to slow down.

My problem is that I tend not to slow down; I only sit down.

If it’s during the day I’m feeding Judah while playing with Levi with my free hand.

If Levi is entertaining himself then I’m on my phone, reading emails, making lists, or scrolling through facebook or twitter.

Always multi-tasking.

We moms like to brag about how good we are at this. (Or complain when we aren’t doing so well at it.)

But lately I’ve been craving more margin, more room to breathe.

I’m tired of multi-tasking.

Yes, I know I will never completely escape the vortext of the multi-tasking compulsions that I have as a woman and mom. (And that’s probably a good thing – we really do need them.) But I am looking for little ways I can cut back and be in teh moment.

One of those ways is taking my God-ordained “coffee breaks”.

Instead of grabbing my phone or a piece of paper to write the grocery list while I breastfeed Judah, I’m leaving my hands free to hold my baby. I’m leaving my eyes free to watch him or even close them for a few moments. I’m leaving my mind free to think and pray and wander.

Even though I’m not succeeding at doing this every time I feed Judah, I’m doing it more and more.

Such a small thing. But a big thing in that it really is helping me to pause, breathe, and be.

 

Q for you: What’s one simple way that you build margin into your life?

 

Love,
A

 

Click Clink Five | Five minutes a day, unedited


Awake

It’s 4:29am.

Last night I slept between the hours of midnight to 3am. Before that, unable to sleep, and then woken by Judah at 3:00.

After feeding him I laid in bed until 4:28, tossing and turning, eyes heavy, mind racing.

Sleep illusive.

So many thoughts run though my head in those hours of the night.

I listen to Ryan breathing heavily on one side of me, Judah breathing lightly on the other, wishing I oculd be asleep like them.

I think of Levi in the next room, and wonder things like “If I had held him more as a baby, would he be more affectionate now?” Only to follow it up with thoughts like, “I loved him fiercely and held him often. Of course he’d be the same. It’s not my actions that have made him so independent, it’s his personality.” (I know that, but in the small hours it’s easy to lose your anchor a little.)

Besides, he is affectionate. He clearly loves me fiercely too.

I yhink of other deep things like “why don’t they sell honey Nut Cherrios in Australia? And cheezeits?”

I think of things I’ve read. I think of people who are affecting my life through what they’ve written or said or have (or haven’t) done.

I think of people who are waiting to hear from me. What will I say? How will I pray?

What does my life speak?

Earlier tonight as I was trying to alow myself to fall asleep I had this thought – what if God’s answer for my plea for “alone time” are these hours of wakefulness during the night when I wishwishwish I was sleeping? Ugh.

And what if it’s not? What if it’s just that I’ve got to learn to let go a litlt more, quiet my mind a little more?

What if I just need to start doing yoga again? (Seriously.)

I thought about all the noise. (I have so much noise.) I read too much, think too much, listen too much, do too much, commit to too much, try to please too much.

And then I think tomorrow will be different. Tomorrow I will simplify.

Because what if that’s what He’s trying to whisper in the dark?

Slow down. Create margin. Be present. Stop multi-tasking. Inhale, exhale.

Have some fun.

Last night before bed (the first time) I put my phone in airplane mode. I won’t switch it back to normal for 24 hours – a Sabbath from the internet. I’ve done the same with my laptop. (Hense, though I’m writing this now, I’m offline so I’ll post it much, much later tonight.)

I’m tired of being notified all. the. time. I’m tired of being constantly available so much so that maybe I’m not available enough to the ones who matter most. Or myself. Or Him.

I only have one chance at this life and I’m certain how I live it is bigger than this life now that I can see.

So I’m up. In the night hours. Listening, waiting, praying. Knowing that there’s something more.

(And still longing and praying for sleep.)

Hello? I’m listening.

STOP.

 

Q for you: Are you awake? Awake when you’re meant to be? Awake when your not meant to be?

 

Love,
A

p.s. I wrote without a timer tonight. I’m guessing it was closer to six minutes, or maybe even seven. Probably seven or eight. I don’t know; I’m tired. #fiveminutefail

 

Click Clink Five | Five minutes a day, unedited.