These Are the Days, December Edition

In August I posted a list inspired by Emily Freeman sharing the moments and ideas that were making up my days.  Using the same attention to my true moments and days, rather than the ones I want to have or have vicariously through some form of media, these are the days of:

Grief.

Being thankful for the history of the Church, and how it informs my daily life today (in particular, for the Council of Orange)

Creativity: starting painting classes again, trying to draw more, writing

Reading less: I’m noticing a pattern.  I gorge myself on books that others have written and suddenly I don’t have the appetite to write or paint or draw.  The year that I deliberately limited my reading was one of my most creative.  I think it’s time to go there again in 2016.

A baby learning to walk.  When did she get so big, and could this really have been my last first year as someone’s mother?

Returning to the Psalms

New habits.  I read Better Than Before and have been thinking a lot about habits, and how to have ones that reflect who I am and who I long to be.  One new habit that came out of a small group we led this fall: I can only check my social media after I’ve spent time meeting God in Scripture.  There have been some weeks where I haven’t checked in to Facebook at all.  But more, I find myself able to make time to read the Bible when before I might have mindlessly scrolled through a lot of status updates.

Attending to God in the midst of activity.  My one year old can open the fridge by herself.  That’s probably enough to summarize my whole life right there.  I’m needed and loved and interrupted by the moment.  I’m learning to love God and listen to his voice in the midst of serious motion.

Reading Geronimo Stilton.

Loving those fresh moments right after a young child has woken up.  I can’t explain it but those first few minutes of I’m-just-waking-up newness feel as magical as when I first held them.

Ice chewing.  (I’m not anemic.  I just really like to chew ice.)

A technology-free bedroom.  (New habits on display here.  Try it.  It will change your life–no phones, no laptops, no iPods, nothing.  People, books, beds.)

Transition.  A church move, and soon enough: graduation and a move for us.

New possibilities.  The canvas is in front of us and it feels very blank.

PG Tips.  Worth every penny.

Morning pages.  Three pages, written long-hand, every morning as a creative act.  Never to be shown to anyone, never to be mined for ideas for publication.  Just there to get the brain dumped on paper so I can attend to the creative work of crafting my life, including my normal writing.

New beginnings.

Anything marking your days that you’d like to remember them by?

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Needing to Blog

I don’t know if I want to blog but I do know that I need to blog.

Last year I managed three posts.  That means it takes me over 100 days to remember to blog again.  

As I’ve sat with the nuns at the Community of the Transfiguration the past two days and reflected on the past year, I’ve come up against one major obstacle: my memory.  I have never had a great memory.  I am terrible at taking pictures or building scrapbooks to help me remember.  I regularly find myself anxious about what I will and won’t remember in a few decades, about all the wrong stories I’ll tell my children, about how they will feel when I tell them something they know isn’t true as our memories collide.  

I can’t seem to remember to blog but without blogging, I’m not sure I’ll remember the shape of my days.  So I want to set an intention to blog with regularity.  To share the moments of my days, to chronicle what I’m learning and how I’m growing, to explore my spiritual formation out loud on my blog.  

I only hope I remember to do it.