A little bit of this and a little bit of that…

spread love

I should be in bed…

Tomorrow is Monday…

Again..

Already…

And our weekends are seldom restful with baseball and this monster called laundry and my poor husband is always swamped with meetings and this other monster called coaching (track season) and this thing called his profession of teaching which is a never ending monsoon of things — let’s just say he’s always “punched in”.  He’s at school right now — after attending a track and 4th of July meeting — after braving Costco and Scheels with the boys and I (why do my children keep insisting on growing???).  I really do not know how he does it.  I know he loves us all and all of his other kids a whole lot.  And I know that more than half of his job, his parent emails to his classroom kids and the kids he coaches, his caring and his heart is not just dealing with the bare bones of what is considered “education”.  He cares about the everythings of their lives.  I know why every kid’s face lights up when you say the name Mr. Mitchell.  I know his passion makes him creative, makes him amazing, makes him brilliant — but that it also creates stress.  But in this family’s eyes?  Well, he’s a freaking super hero…

And in all the busy, my brain never shuts off — trying to find solutions — trying to find better.  Because “this is just the way we do things” has NEVER cut it with this girl, this family — ever.  So I read a lot, write a lot, and possibly think WAY too much.  But that’s me.  It’s how my silly brain works.  Honestly, I think it’s why we’re here.  Not to figure it all out, but definitely to attempt to make it better. And we all can.  We really can.  The least we can do is try.  Trying is something.  Every day we can get up and try.  And that’s kind of exciting, isn’t it?  That’s actually pretty awesome — that we have that sense of possibility open to us?  Hell yes.  It most certainly is.  It’s not easy, but it sure is exciting.  And as the old adage goes, nothing worth anything is ever easy.  It’s often messy–and often so very, very hard.  But hard is doable.  And nothing is impossible.  Absolutely nothing — well, except for fantastically tasting gluten free soft and squishy white bread.  Seriously.  That has yet to happen (wink).

we can do hard thigns

And this took over me in the car while everything was hitting me and I was going to that place in my brain I take refuge when everything is beating me up (where “Windmills” from Toad The Wet Sprocket goes on repeat a zillion times and I revert to passages of “Don Quixote”) — that while sometimes it feels so VITAL for someone to GET me and to understand me — really all that truly matters is that I finally do — and there’s immense peace in that.  And after that thought blanketed all the others that were bouncing around, I could breathe again.  And it was all okay.

Because, really, no matter how much I cry or scream or long for that connection with some of the people that mean the very, very most to me — it might just never happen.  And that’s truly okay.  I don’t need to be “gotten”.  I don’t even need to get them.  And the change I think I so desperately need from them?  Hey, that may never happen here — on this spinning globular thing.  And although that kind of ultimately sucks, this isn’t IT.  This isn’t my everything — this isn’t all of my real.  This isn’t even the realest of my real.  So even though those awfully achy holes may never be filled or patched up down here?  Well, some day, yes, some day they will be.  I don’t need to assign that burden to someone else.  I don’t need to give that “if only they’d” list to any one.  Nah, I got me.  He’s got me.  I understand where I’m coming from.  I get me.  It’s not quite so imperative to me that anyone else really does.  And the people that do?  Holy halleluiahI’m pretty freaking thankful for that tribe.  I should probably get each and every one of their names tattooed onto my body (smile).  I feel like they’ve somehow earned that. I know my kind of simple is often complicated…

And although my arthritis seems to feel the need to kick into high gear as I reach this forty thing with such mental clarity and grace (dripping sarcasm–everything is falling apart) — this yogi girl soldiers on.  My body simply cracks to a new rhythm and I’m finding a sense of humor helps with all of it.  And I’m also finding that I’m simply reaffirming everything I’ve already learned to be true about yoga with every passing year of practice.  And I’ll be doing it till Jesus comes for me (I’m hoping mats are still legit in heaven…).

yoga love

One of the truly great things I love about yoga is that it teaches our minds to get over themselves — to push everything we think we can’t do because it looks weird, we think or feel we’re too old, it’s too hard, and all the other “too’s” we can imagine and we’ve conditioned our minds to believe — and we come to find that with just the right amount of balance and just the right amount of strength, and just the right amount of courage — ANYTHING is truly possible. And if we fall?  Damn, we just get back up all the more brave and determined, don’t we?  All of these were reflections in firefly.  It’s amazing all the thoughts that freely flow in yoga sequences.  Standing on our heads, twisting, building our muscles and seeing the world from different angles all while challenging our breathing and sense of balance.  It grows our hearts and our muscles.   Yoga is magic.  Spirit and body magic.  And the days I really don’t want to do it are the days I need to most.  Arthritis be damned.

And another week comes.  And this family is never ready.  Baseball practices, track practices, meets, sports pictures, meetings (always the meetings — our meetings have meetings), and then the boys somehow have homework and have to eat and sleep in all of that too — and our jobs and this parenting gig — and it’s all blessings, right?  It really is.  Exhausting, but really and truly blessings.  As all of this busy is just a blip on our radar of what is really and truly real — and so often distracts us from that.  So we have to reign it in — take a deep breath, grab those Bibles, practice yoga, repeat several mantras, get over our freaking selves — and say, “what can I do to shake things up and make this day, this hour, this minute, just a little bit better?”.  And sometimes?  Well, that’s just giving your kid, your husband, your sibling, your friend a smile, a hug (if you’re into those sorts of things) and telling them you love them.  Forever.  Because we GET that.  And if they don’t get that, being brave enough to share that with them.  Because THAT’S what’s real.  Really real.  More real than all of this crazy busy.

Sleep.  Getting some.  Much love to all of you.  Who probably know what your pillow looks like about as little as I do.  Take care.  And know how much you matter.  The world may keep on spinning, yes — but there’s only ONE of you spinning on it.  So take a minute to breathe.  Take a minute to stop and look.  Take a minute to think about how small and big it all really is.  And make some coffee for tomorrow.  Preferably set on auto.  Just makes it all that much easier.    Cause sometimes changing and shaking things up for the better takes a lot of coffee (smile).  A lot of coffee and a whole lotta Jesus. Thankfully he never gets tired and is never too busy…

Peace and love ❤

Angie

what if I can

 

 

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Magic and Miracles

“Why do you look for the LIVING among the DEAD?  He is not here; he has RISEN!”

Luke 24:5b-6a

Let’s talk about fairytales…

They’ve been around for hundreds and hundreds of years.  Maybe longer.  Let’s just say, they’re really, really old.  They’re kind of like pieces of  our history.  They are also unique to our cultures, our heritage, varying from continent to continent — changing and evolving as they have been retold from generation to generation.  They’re little pieces of us.

I happen to love them. They’re treasures.  I may be slightly infatuated with them.  I have been since my childhood.  They were a refuge of sorts for me.  They gave me hope.  Good verses evil.  In the most dire of circumstances.  The strongest faith was necessary to overcome the darkness.  Might didn’t make right.  Good could come in very small and unassuming packages.  But it always prevailed.  To a little girl with no voice, this was an extremely powerful message.

And as I’ve grown, they’ve continued to be a comfort.  Home comes in many shapes and forms to me — and it’s not often a physical place.  And as someone who thoroughly enjoys similes, metaphors, and all the ways in which fables and these fairytales of yore seem to so applicably apply to our very nows — well, I still cozy up to them with my own children…

I love the twists and turns, the magic, something your eyes thought was just isn’t, the impossible is always possible, the old is made new, those who appear so very weak can be so very strong — the urchins, nothings, cast aways of society have the bravery of lions, hearts of gold — appearances can be deceiving in good and bad ways, so you must judge a person by their character — kindness matters, and ultimately the power of love saves us all.  True love is everything. 

Fairytales teach us much.  They teach us to be kind.  That good conquers evil.  That faith and doing the next right thing will take us far.  That even peasants can be princesses.  That we should never judge a book by it’s cover.  Heroes can be everyday people just like us.  And the power in that?  Well, that’s pretty amazing.  You too can slay your dragons…

dragons can be beatenAnd so I’m sitting here with a cup of Earl Grey and listening to James Taylor, the original JT, allowing my heart to drift along to “Something In the Way She Moves” and thinking back to a different time — when things were altogether much more complicated — yet possessed a unique sense of simple.  Although dragons may weaken in their strength and size and their fire power may subside from a substantial blazing infernal bellow that could originally consume me from the inside to the outside to now just occasionally quaking my toes when I get the faint reminisce of smoke — new dragons often enter in to new phases of our lives — some taking advantage of where others have wounded and scarred so very deeply — intentionally striking at some of the same gashes that have yet to heal.

Life is a battle.  And many of us are walking wounded.  And there just aren’t enough Band-Aids in the world now, are there?

And why is it that we continue to get up and walk at all?  Why do we refuse to give up when there are so many dragons, when there will always BE dragons?  Is it because we are strong?  Because we are determined?  Because we are brave?  Because we are proud?  Is it because we have something to prove?  Because of this faith thing?  Because we believe in something bigger then ourselves like love, or something else that is more powerful than us? Is it because we are silly miracles chasers, because we believe in something truer, more real, and more powerful than anything we can describe or see with our eyes or even our hearts? Is it because of our children or those we love?  Hmmmmmm.  I wonder…

Maybe it is some of these things, or all of these things, or none of these things on any given day.  But, ultimately, it’s always this one thing for this girl.  Yes, ultimately it is this that I know the merciful and miraculous ending to my amazing great Rescue story (and we ALL have a great Rescue story)…

I know the last page. 

Well, this spherical one…

 And this is something that fairytales do NOT give us — will never posses or teach us.  It is something another book far more powerful has rendered this soul.  And this is no fairy tale, friends. This is very, very real. 

This hard, sometimes outright painfully miserable, yet full of so much beauty it hurts story — I know the ending — and it is pretty fantastic.  It is far better than any fairy tale ever written.  And it makes all of this — what ever the THIS may be — worth it.

So I hold out, and I hold on, and I continue to believe — no — I continue to KNOW that TRUE LOVE CONQUERS ALL.  So what ever I may seem to feel like I’m missing in these holes in my heart, what ever I may seem to come up short in in my “enough-ness” raging on in this battle down here for good against all this evil — sweet, sweet hearts — I know the ending to my story —

and the ending is —  there is no ending

and that’s the miracle — the biggest miracle

all because of a choice made for love — true love

a sacrifice — on a cross — the greatest Rescue

❤ the greatest love story  ever written ❤

And although I may spend this earth part forever fighting my dragons in this precarious and precociously teetering place of balance between listening to God’s voice and knowing when to act in bravery for Him and when to be still and allowing Him to fight for me — I know that when my last breath is reached, I will never have to fight again.  And when my body dies, my beastly dragons die with it.  My true self and soul will be set free.  And those angels who watch over me (poor things are quite busy) —  I’ll get to see them too!  And although I really don’t need or even desire streets paved in gold — a back country road is heaven enough for me — I’ll get to walk those too — with a Father who has always held me.  But this time, he will be so close, I will never feel that hole in my heart again.  No need for Band-Aids.  No need for fairy tales.  No need to fight any dragons or darkness.  Nothing but light.  Nothing but love.

Happy Easter, loves.

Happy FOREVER LOVE, my friends.

Here’s to KNOWING the ending to our story.

And here’s to LIVING our lives so that others may know theirs too… ❤