Tag Archives: #Blogger

Trust the Process

I purchased a vintage typewriter. I’ve longed for one all year, but this grew to be more in September. It was a process because I didn’t realize the multitudes of choices. After thorough research I surmised this criteria used to take the majority of them out of the running. They needed to be in working order and the ink cartridge’s/ribbon not by any means in dramatic decline.

I found one locally and it’s electric, which I’d been casting a keen eye over manual, but I genuinely favored the color of this one. The local woman was delightful to work with and purchase from. She was elated to sell it to someone who was going to use it and it’s used every day. The main reason for the purchase was to have a way to write that didn’t include a computer screen.

I wasn’t prepared for how loud it is between the humming of the motor and each key pounding the page, but with time it grew into a welcome sound that soothes my psyche. I’ve moved it at least 20 times to various locations in my home, trying to find the space that feels right. To my surprise it persists in finding the corner of my bedroom unparalleled. Reminiscent of Stephen King in On Writing, my corner for writing found me and that’s as far as I’ve gotten.

To sit down in front of this typewriter, insert a blank page, turn it on and type each day for 30 minutes. To have no foreknowledge of the outcome, but survey the stack of pages acquiring height. This is all I can gather as we simply trust the process.

Like You Own It

I printed out and filled in the page needed to receive my birth certificate mentioned in the previous post. Afterwards, I ran a few errands and to congratulate myself for completing the paperwork and stopped to get a fall flavored coffee on the way back home.

Some of the most memorable conversations my daughter and I shared, occurred while we rode in the car together. Sometimes it was just miles of silence, while listening to her playlist, but that was special too. I’ve noticed, as we age things that used to come naturally take more of an effort. Being single, I have to devise a plan to move the heavy planter from one side of the yard to the other, or bringing it inside takes even more ingenuity if someone isn’t available to assist. At this stage of life, I’d rather ask for help than pull my back out.

My daughter rarely rides anywhere with me now, but before she left she had noticed I was having trouble parking in public parking spaces. I’d drive around and around the parking lot, looking for just the right space that would easily fit my truck. You know the drill…parking spaces aren’t very large anymore, so they can fit more spaces onto the lot. Some don’t care how they park and go over the line, making it impossible to park between two cars, while others really don’t bother and pull in sideways. Before my daughter moved out she gave me some solid gold advice on parking spaces and I used it every time I parked.

I practiced her advice so often, parking returned naturally to me now, but anytime I feel less than confident I recall her voice saying…”Mama. You have to pull into that parking space like you own it.”

Nailed it.

Believe in Yourself

I strive to be more like my daughter.

She’s been telling me, “You’re my hero”, since the age of five. Today, I still want to be that, but I watch her too, and she’s becoming mine.

Doing something new, especially learning a new skill, seems scary at first. I believe it’s important for our children, and adult children to see us continually bettering ourselves.

We expect them to believe in their abilities, but what about us? After we pass a certain age, do we stop believing in ourselves?

believe

No, my darling. We must continue to try new things, and keep an open mind. I’ve always told my daughter, “You won’t know unless you try.” Now, she says those words to me.

The only time we fail, is if we don’t even try.

It’s Just Beginning

I put clean sheets on my bed this morning, but not my daughter’s. It’s the little things that reveal our lives are separating. We raise them to be independent, but frown when they’re independent with Momma. Today, I smiled.

I’m happy my daughter is 20 years old.

My ‘raising her’ days are over, but she’s still watching. She watches how I live my life and listens to the words I say. I haven’t stopped striving to be the hero she saw at age five, but now I get to be both our heroes. Where some Mother’s feel their life is over once the kiddo’s are grown, I feel my life is just beginning.

Granted, it’s the second half of life. I’m 55 years old and single, but I’m happy. This new year/decade I’ll discover so many thing about myself, including who I want to be.

The possibilities are endless.

endless-possibilities-lilias-trotter

I encourage you to live your life.

Just because they’re grown and gone doesn’t mean life stands still. No my darling, for Momma’s of adult children, it’s just beginning.

What You Love

When my daughter was 5 years old, our home looked picture perfect. A designer helped furnish and decorate the main rooms of the house and wanted to invite her photographer in. She thought they would win a contest.

Holmes Living Room

Our living room.

It was the saddest season of my life.

The room was used when we entertained guests and every item was a financial investment. You couldn’t sit and relax because there was no love in that room even when it was full of people.

Looks can be deceiving. In 2013, I left my 25 year marriage, and took my daughter with me. It was in that house my marriage hit it’s breaking point. My husband lost his job, we eventually lost that house and a few years later, each other.

We still have a few of the furnishings from that room and my daughter and I enjoy them. We’ve moved every couple of years and each home was a little bit nicer and life became more beautiful. We gave up stuff with every move, but we never gave up on each other.

Today we lean toward minimal, but I see it as only keep what you love.

summer countryside grass outdoor

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

The Right Amount

One evening I was craving macaroni and cheese.

I looked at my favorite recipe, and went to the kitchen to see if I had what was needed. It looked promising.

As I was pouring each ingredient into the pan, I was amazed by having the right amount of each. This wasn’t planned by be, but it was obviously planned for me.

That’s how God works in my life.

I realized if He could give me the exact ingredients for mac and cheese, He surely had all of the ingredients measured out for a spectacular life.

He wants me to trust Him.

And I do.

A spectacular life sounds like the right amount.

Make it Beautiful

When I walked into the house, she rapidly announced, “I made a mess.” I just looked at her, smiled, and followed her gaze to the hallway floor. It was covered in chalk.

blue red and yellow chalk

Photo by Viktoria Goda on Pexels.com

We have a large adhesive chalkboard on the pantry door. We use it to write down our schedules for one another. My daughter reached up to retrieve the box of chalk from above the pantry door, and it fell out of her hand crashing onto the tile floor. Tile is obviously more solid than chalk.

It was an accident. Pause Mama’s. Place a hold on your immediate reaction and wait for a response.

Some of our most magical moments began as a minor disaster.

Stepping over the mess, I walked into the bathroom. After washing my hands, I noticed one piece of chalk laying right inside the doorway. Squatting down, I grabbed the chalk, and wrote a note on the tile.

My daughter loved it and followed suit.

She wrote a note on the tile in the hallway.

My daughter could have cleaned up the mess before I returned home. She didn’t because she knew we would make something fun out of it, and was waiting to see my thoughts. When she moves on with her life, and has children of her own, I imagine her home with tile floors.

She will probably skip the chalk altogether, and allow her children to finger-paint the tile floor. She will teach them that an accident is really a beautiful mess in disguise.

When life gets messy. Make it beautiful.