Foggy Morning

Clarity, direction, a clear head and a clear path. That’s what I’ve been praying for lately.

Last week I told a friend that my mind feels foggy and that this is a problem. I want to see farther. I want the whole picture. Sometimes I just want to know it all and get my act together.

But today I actually walked in the fog and learned something new. I could only see what was directly in front of me and around me. Everything else was hidden.┬áCan you see the freedom in that? See how I can notice one leaf, one thread on the spider web, one crack in the sidewalk that I wouldn’t have noticed otherwise?

There is grace in not having everything all at one time, in having some things clouded from view so that all you can see is this one step, now , and then the next.

Maybe this is the way to see more clearly after all.


Photo by my talented friend Joel Bock. Used with permission. Please do not steal it without asking him.

Baby Tears and a Soft Belly to Land on

Dear Sweet Baby Girl,

Tonight after crying in my arms, you flopped across my floppy soft belly and fell asleep.

In your sadness, you made your way back to the place where you began. Now I’m laying here while my stretched out skin rises and falls, rocking you there like when you lived inside.

You were so, so tired today but wouldn’t nap at your usual times. When your dad got home from work, I brought you upstairs again hoping you could finally get some rest. But you crawled around the bed and laughed and flapped your arms and rolled around.

I almost gave up and brought you back downstairs to play, but then I took a second look.

I thought of all the changes you’ve been through recently and how much you put up with from your sweet, wild brother. I thought about how flexible you are and how I always assume you’re doing fine, because usually you are.

But tonight I knew. You needed me to understand that things are not always fine and that in your own little baby way, you were struggling.

I looked in your eyes and told you it was ok to cry and your sweet little baby face instantly melted into tears. You extended your arms and squealed to shake out the frustration, then you squished up your eyes and wailed. Every so often our eyes locked and I nodded that I was still listening.

It wasn’t easy for me to hear you cry like that. I had to wrestle with my own desire to just make it stop. But I’ve learned how healing it can be to cry with somebody who accepts you, and I wanted that for you.

When you were first born, I intended to make sure you knew that all emotional expressions were welcome in our home. I had learned a few things the hard way with Welly and I was anxious to put them into practice.

But then you hardly ever cried. Not much anyways.

You came out seeming so comfortable in your body and so calm. A part of me breathed a huge sigh of relief because it feels so good to know that you are able to be at ease in this world in a way that is mostly foreign to me.

Tonight though, I want to give you permission to feel whatever you want to feel.

You don’t have to be the happy one, the one who has an easy time and makes my life easier. I want to release any preconceived ideas about who you are and allow you the space to grow and change every day.

We’re all becoming new every day baby. Tears are a gift that help us chip away the old layers to reveal what is happening in our lives.

Yes, yes, whatever you need to feel will always be ok with me. Unless of course you’re a teenager and you FEEL like your mother is sooo old and embarrassing. In that case you can just stuff those feelings on down :).

Sweet Dreams Pearly Lou.