Search Results for: Tuesdays Unwrapped

Tuesdays Unwrapped: Brothers & Oatmeal

May 5, 2009 by Marian 12 Comments

I love what Emily is doing on Tuesdays. Seeing as how her blog is all about “reflection and discovery in the midst of the mundane,” Tuesdays Unwrapped fits right in.

I’m a glass-is-half-empty kind of girl. I wish I wasn’t. I’m working on it. But too often my focus is on all that I wish was different. In any given moment, I’m brooding about all sorts of dissatisfactions and displeasures.

Finding the miracle amid the mayhem is like swapping out the cloudy lens through which I view life. It changes everything and I finally see clearly.

I mourn the precious vignettes that I never noticed or documented. And I’m hoping that some Tuesdays here and there will be a step in the right direction.

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My moment came yesterday morning. Five-year-old Brownie was the first one up. He is always bright and chatty and happy upon waking. And hungry.

As I groggily prepared his microwaveable oatmeal, I heard Cupcake…also hungry.

Balancing baby on hip and bowl in hand, I slid the oatmeal to Brownie. Cupcake nearly leapt out of my arms so I set him down, not knowing what I would feed this finicky and feisty toddler.

Cupcake sidled right up to big brother, who eagerly and cheerfully fed him from his own bowl of oatmeal. And after they shared that bowl together, I fixed them another…and another.

Three bowls of oatmeal and one giant helping of unprompted generosity later, I soaked it all in. And sighed.

I’m thankful for a big brother who gives sacrificially to his little brother. I’m thankful for all the moments of togetherness and the tender familial bonds that living life with one another creates.

For in the midst of squabbles and annoyance and craziness, there is tenderness and love.

And I got to watch it all unfold over a bowl of oatmeal.

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Now head on over to see what others have unwrapped today…

What an $18 Fake Christmas Tree Taught Me About Saying Yes

December 17, 2013 by Marian 7 Comments

When my kids ask for something, I usually say no.

That’s because they ask for things like candy and screen time and new stuff and candy and things that are just completely unreasonable and also candy. Undeterred by the frequent no, they continue to ask for these things a lot. And because I try to keep treats and electronic brain-numbing to a healthy moderation, it seems like I am forever and always saying no.

But all of that changed on an impromptu trip to Big Lots.

Every year these kids of mine beg for a Christmas tree in their room and every year I think to myself, That is so totally unneccessary. Kids with their own personal Christmas trees? It’s a testimony to American consumerism and privileged kids run amuck. My kids have plenty. I will not add to their ruin by indulging them with their own personal Christmas trees.

Yet two weeks ago I found myself unloading two four-foot Christmas trees from the Big Lots shopping cart into my van. A pre-lit green one for the boys’ room and a pre-lit white one for my girl.

I’m not sure what happened. But I think it had something to do with Barbie Dream House regret and my kids growing up too fast and thinking about how they’ll anticipate getting these trees down from the attic every year and falling asleep each December amid the glow of twinkle lights.

I called my husband from the parking lot and said, You will not believe what I just bought.

I picked the boys up from school and told them what I had in the trunk. Fifteen minutes of squeals and delight later, we were unboxing a kid-size tree and decorating it with their homemade ornaments and plugging in the lights.

My daughter got home late that evening from youth group. It just so happened that they’d crafted cute little ornaments and I said, Oh, I have just the place for that snowman ornament.

When she walked into her room and saw the white tree with the glittery pink bow at the top, she resembled a just-crowned Miss America, hands cupped over her mouth and shaking with happy disbelief, eyes as big as saucers. All she needed was a sash and a crooked tiara.

I guess Christmas came early.

Every day they are loving their trees. So inspired by the $18 white sparkly tree, my daughter has commenced to making her digs ever merrier. She raided the leftover Christmas decor and her room is bedazzled in tinsel and lights from top to bottom. And my littlest son keeps finding trinkets to add to his toppling fake evergreen.

I’ve lost count of how many times they’ve thanked me for the trees.

Sometimes love looks like saying no to Twizzlers because they need to eat their veggies.

And sometimes love looks like a four-foot tree from the Big Lots Christmas aisle.

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This post is linked up to “Tuesdays Unwrapped” with Emily over at Chatting at the Sky. Join us as we “take the time to unwrap the small, secret gift of the everyday.”

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Unwrapping the Gift of Space & Stillness

December 3, 2013 by Marian 4 Comments

We sat around our tables Thanksgiving Day, each one offering this year’s specific gratitudes. My dad said he was grateful to still be working hard at a job he loves. My husband also gave thanks for a job he enjoys and for some much-needed time off from that job to rest and spend time with family.

And then it was my turn.

I said, Well, I’m thankful that I don’t have a job.

We all laughed, including me. But the thing is, I actually wasn’t kidding.

Me not having a job, it’s not entirely true. I’m a wife, a mom to three kids, and a writer. I have plenty to do and by each day’s end, it’s never all done.

But for thirteen years I lived life in a breathless sort of state. Often juggling. Often stressing. Often dealing with heavy things. Always striving. My soul rarely rested for more than a few moments at a time.

And then two years ago it all changed. I couldn’t keep going like that. After years as a working mom outside the home and then a homeschooling mom inside the home, we decided to change up everything.

We put the kids in school and removed everything possible from my plate. We resolved to simplify, say no, rest, and heal.

And we have. By God’s grace and mercy, we have. And in many ways, we still are.

Though I’ve gradually added things back in–one morning a week doing art with kindergarteners, saying yes to opportunities that tug on my heart, more writing–I have space in my life to breathe.

Two years later and I’m just as grateful. It still seems too good to be true. And though I don’t know how long this sort of respite will last, I receive it as a gift while I have it.

Yesterday morning I sat in fuzzy pajamas on the sofa, the fire and lit-up Christmas tree as my backdrop. My husband had left for work and the kids were at school. Even the dog was napping in another room.

It was just me and Jesus.

There I was, the first Monday of Advent, still and reflective and able to offer up my time and anxieties and words to God.

I soaked in the presence of Christ himself and He equipped me for the demands that would come calling throughout the rest of the day.

I breathed in stillness and exhaled thanks.

This time, this space, this ability to just slow and breathe and receive, I drink it down as one who thirsted long in the desert and finally arrived at oasis.

So on this first Tuesday of Advent, I unwrap the gift of quiet and stillness and communion.

Perhaps you can too? Whatever your frenzied state, I invite you to carve out space, no matter how small, to still your soul and receive the peace of Christ himself. Maybe it’s in pick-up line or in the few moments you have to shower or while you fix the coffee or stir the soup.

Wherever you are in the midst of these breathless days, take time to rest your soul, to inhale grace, and to exhale gratitude.

This post is linked up to “Tuesdays Unwrapped” with Emily over at Chatting at the Sky. Join us as we “take the time to unwrap the small, secret gift of the everyday.”

Interested in having each post from a la mode delivered to your e-mail inbox? You can do that near the top of the right sidebar. Just enter your e-mail address in the subscribe box. You can unsubscribe anytime you like.

Tall in a Grande Cup

December 13, 2011 by Marian 3 Comments

Several mornings a week I haul my butt out of bed while the rest of the house sleeps and run with a friend. It never gets any easier, the getting up part.

We run and talk, bleary-eyed and cold. And then we stop on our way home for the prize.

Right now my seasonal choice is a steaming cup of Christmas blend, tall in a grande cup, with plenty of room for cream.

The folks behind the counter know us and know our drinks and I just love that.

It’s not a frugal reward but I rationalize that it’s cheaper than a gym membership and it’s a small price to pay for sanity in my opinion.

The running, the coffee, the conversational therapy…they are sweet, anticipated gifts that make even the hardest days a bit more bearable.

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Linked up with Tuesdays Unwrapped: Winter 2011 Edition. Unwrap with us?

Jetta

November 29, 2011 by Marian 10 Comments

I don’t remember when the prayers began but once they did, they never ceased. Neither did the questions.

Mommy, when?

Have you talked to Daddy any more?

Do you think it will be before my next birthday?

How much is a fence? I can save up and pay for it.

How much are shots? You can take it out of my money.

For years this child has begged for a dog, this child who relates as well to furry friends as she does to human ones.

My husband thought it would be a phase. But she is nearly 11 and this phase has been going strong for a good 6 years. One of her favorite pastimes is thinking of names for animals she doesn’t even have.

I told her time and again why pets are a huge responsibility, how they are messy and expensive and rude, leaving their fur and slobber all over the place, chewing up shoes and furniture and then having the nerve to jump up in your lap and lick your face.

I might as well have been speaking into the wind.

My husband and I knew we had already lost the battle. It was simply a question of when we would wave the white flag of surrender. In my heart I felt we were getting close.

The day before Thanksgiving we made our annual trek to the flea market. You know that’s a post in and of itself. We always see puppies at the flea market. And bunnies. And chickens. And pork rinds.

But we happened upon a table with three sweet pups and the nicest owners. Their mama dog had an emergency C-section to deliver these bundles. A feeling came over me almost immediately. This is the one. I took their card and told them I’d call.

Four days after holding this furry bundle at the flea market, Blondie held her very own puppy in the van as we drove home.

We stopped at the store while I ran in for special food and puppy pads and a leash. A leash. What in the world are we doing? I thought. An animal that poops and pees and barks is going to live in my house. In. My. House.

I realize that a dog is a normal, everyday thing that lots of people {who are not us} have and it’s no big deal.

But Jetta is a big deal to us and to me.

It’s a crazy miracle, how overnight I have gone from someone who held animals at arms length to someone who loves this furry, four-legged thing that slides all over our hard-wood floors in the cutest way and looks up at me with those black marble eyes and head tilted just so.

She has wriggled her way into hearts that already felt full and made room for more love.

The Man and I, we find ourselves giggling and sighing. Over a dog. She has made our already complete family somehow feel even more complete, a four-legged gift I didn’t even know we needed.

As for Blondie, well, she finally got an answer to those persistent prayers of hers. A Thanksgiving gift, an early Christmas present, and a best friend, all rolled into one precious package.

Linked up with Emily at Chatting at the Sky for Tuesdays Unwrapped: Winter 2011 Edition.

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{For inquiring minds, Jetta is a Miniature Schnauzer, 6 weeks old. Her name means “black gem.”}

Practicing Rest

November 18, 2010 by Marian 11 Comments

She came to me with piano book in hand, one of her many impromptu breaks from practicing and said,

Look, it’s a song you play with no hands.

No hands? I asked. How does that work?

It’s a song with just rests, she replied matter-of-factly. You don’t use your hands. You just practice rests.

I let her words sink in and settle down deep.

And in that instant, I knew that God had once again spoken timely truth into a single mundane moment.

Life lived with some songs of rest every now and then, I thought to myself. What might that look like?

To simply accept the fact that yes, we work and practice and perfect and labor and sometimes we just need to play a song of rest. That songs of rest give Him glory and breathe life back into our stressed-out souls in ways that songs of a zillion fancy, strung-out notes cannot. That songs of rest lullaby our spirits in ways that chords and trills and constant staccato cannot.

Fast and furiously, I pound and plunk out the notes of the crazy everyday and it is cacophony, not calm…discord, not delight.

Oh to be nine and and naive and fully accepting that sometimes we just need a song of rest and that’s all there is to it. That practicing rest is just as legitimate as whatever else we’re doing all day with our ever-tasking hands.

And I, at 37, know that rest takes actual practice…discipline even?

The season ahead is one of gratitude and celebration. It’s also one in which the to-do takes precedence over the rest our souls need. We’re so busy tasking and preparing; receiving rest takes a backseat…

He takes a backseat.

Ironic, yes, how busy we can become as we prepare for and celebrate the One who is rest.

Too often, my busyness and inner mess blinds me from seeing Him as that. And I’m grateful beyond words that He relentlessly pursues me anyway, amid piano books and dirty dishes and unfolded laundry, an unassuming 9-year-old girl unknowingly speaking divine truth words just for me in that bleary-eyed moment…

Child, practice rest.

I pray that for me, for you, for all of us, our hands and our hearts can find peace, stillness, and grace in the One who invites the weary to come.

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The LORD replied, “My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.”

Exodus 33:14

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.

Matthew 11:28-30

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Unwrapped with Emily {Chatting at the Sky}

Ode to Dessert

September 20, 2010 by Marian 5 Comments

Recently I’ve been feeling a big hungry. Or at least you’d think that by reading some of my recent posts about dinner and recipes and such. Not a surprise really, considering this blog’s header is nearly a life-size photo of a plate of Parisian profiteroles and my children’s blog names are all a different dessert.

The last couple of weekends, however, my food mood has reached a crescendo. We trekked up to my parents’ house in the mountains over Labor Day weekend and were joined by my brother and sister and their families. My little brother has become a veritable chef and brilliant baker in recent years and we are the lucky {and slightly bloated} recipients of his culinary skills.

He brings his own equipment.

He concocts stuff that requires thermometers.

Stuff like salted caramel as a layer between decadent chocolate cake and whipped chocolate ganache frosting.

He zested an entire bag of lemons while watching football and made not one, not two, but three deserts in less than 24 hours.

I’m in a sugar-induced coma just writing this.

Over the weekend we were all together again for my niece’s birthday and my sister commissioned him to make gourmet cupcakes with homemade buttercream frosting.

Seriously people, he spent all afternoon making these to-die-for Martha Stewart cupcakes. {Martha would have been so impressed.} I lost all decorum and licked the bowl at one point. {Martha would have so not been impressed.} I was willing to take my chances with salmonella. Sometimes the batter is worth it.

There’s something about being with people I love that makes food taste better. Somehow it seems celebratory instead of indulgent. Maybe that’s why there are so many allusions in Scripture about Heaven being a great feast.

{A low-country boil for my Papa’s 86th birthday on Labor Day weekend}

Feasting and family just seem to go hand in hand.

As I’ve watched my brother in the kitchen with his thermometers and gadgets and fancy ingredients, I’ve realized that some things really are worth the effort. The stuff he makes is so good I want to stand up and applaud.

These days I’m always in such a hurry to get people fed and move on to the next thing…it’s just the season I’m in.

But every now and then I think it’s worth it to slow down and get a little fancy.

Taking time to lovingly create something extraordinary…it’s a “good thing.”

{You honestly didn’t think I’d pass up an opportunity to post Cupcake eating a Cupcake, did you?}

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Unwrapping Cupcakes with Emily.

What’s Inside the Box…

August 24, 2010 by Marian 8 Comments

As I laboriously removed the desk hutch from the excessive cardboard packaging, I thought to myself, What on earth am I going to do with this ridiculously huge box? I snipped the tape, folded it up, and abandoned it to the garage, hoping it wouldn’t sit there too long.

It didn’t.

They had big plans for the box.

It has been a spaceship, a drive-through car wash, and a McDonald’s, complete with a very bossy toddler employee who serves all customers a hamburger and orders them to eat it before they drive off.

I saw a useless, oversized box.

But they saw a whole world just waiting to be imagined.

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It’s Tuesday so you know where to find me…at Emily’s of course.

Ancient History

August 16, 2010 by Marian 10 Comments

Blondie pulled out my old scrapbooks over the weekend. She loves reading the story of how her daddy and I met, even though she’s completely weirded out by all of the mushy love stuff. My college days fascinate her. She seems to have a strange admiration for that wilder, younger version of her mother.

She does not, however, admire my back-then style. Mommy, she asked, would you be offended if I told you that your clothes looked bad?

No, I replied. I agree that my clothes looked bad too. But that was just the style back then.

Back then? {I thought to myself.} Really?

It’s funny how this history still feels rather recent to me, like it was just a few years ago when I donned acid-wash jeans with zippers on the side and wore baggy sweatshirts over leggings.

And all of the fun trips and adventures her daddy and I enjoyed during the 5 years of marriage before she was born? It seems like just a few years ago.

But as she and her brothers gazed at those albums, I had a flashback of looking at my own parents’ high school and college yearbooks, of sprawling out on the blue carpet in our living room and studying their old photographs. And I remember trying to imagine them as young, thinking that all the girls in my mom’s high school already looked like moms with their Donna Reed dresses and short, bouffant hair styles.

And now, to Blondie and her brothers, that’s me.

It’s come full circle I guess and I don’t know where the time went.

I didn’t dress like Donna Reed and my bouffant hair style was a giant mess of spiral-curled, hair-sprayed goodness, but it might as well be ancient history to her, that time when I lived and fell in love and had a rich, full life, yet she was still years away from being conceived.

Watching them look at ancient us felt both crazy and okay. I sort of liked it actually.

Because there’s something about coming full circle that feels complete.

Unwrapped with Emily {Chatting at the Sky}

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On a different note, I just want to thank all of you for the lovely comments and most gracious welcome as I shared my most recent post. I was scared. I woke up that morning with butterflies and fear, but y’all made it so much less scary. It was such a beautiful day for me. Thank you for letting me share my life with you: the good, the trivial, the ugly. In the writing, I have found expression and healing; in the sharing, I have found community and joy.

And thank you, sweet Emily, for the opportunity to write at the place where I’ve found such inspiration and resonance over the last two years.

Oh and if you read the All Systems Go post, I’ve worked up a few very “non-system-like” posts that are coming your way this week. : )

Aargh Mateys!

June 28, 2010 by Marian 15 Comments

She needed one hoop earring and a striped shirt. He asked if I had any eye-patches. The other He just wore whatever they draped him with and jumped up and down with delight.

It’s all part of a funny phenomenon that’s been unfolding after dinner lately, a creative camaraderie with a rather odd cast of characters…

A bossy but benevolent 9-year-old…

A compliant and creative 6-year-old…

And a 2-year-old who does everything the big kids do with spunk and unbridled enthusiasm.

Somehow they all find common ground in the magical land of make-believe. Stay here for long after supper-time and you might find yourself aboard a pirate ship made of bed-sheets and kid chairs.

I don’t know what’s inspiring them so. Maybe it’s the freedom of summer or the sweltering Southern heat gone to their heads or the contentment brought about by full tummies and a day of sun-drenched play.

And while I do love my role as mommy bystander, watching them play makes me wish I could travel back in time and join them as a fellow kid. If they tried to include me now, I would just be the clunky and awkward grown-up who wrecks up the ship because my head and body are, well, grown-up size.

I didn’t say “no” as they foraged through the attic for pirate clothes and strapped patches over their eyes with construction paper and band-aids. I tried to play it cool as they made swords from vacuum cleaner attachments and drew elaborate treasure maps with markers that left smears on the kitchen table.