the mud

 When you fall on your knees, when the weary world weighs upon your shoulders, when your journey seems crooked and winding and never-ending, when you knock on the door and are turned away, When Christmas has lost its magic, when you cannot move one more step, or bear one more thing, Crawl. Crawl and curl up in the soft hay of a manger. Hold your heavy heart. Let your heart open. Feel the warmth of Nature's breath, Hear the quiet stillness, And breathe. Then you will see a small, flickering light in the distance, A star perhaps, or a candle. Feel the tiny tinge of Hope, Hear the wind whispering, Grace. Peace.  Love. Know the gentle touch of love. You are loved. You are loved. You are Love.

This summer Jay shared a song with his sister and me. It's called Freeze by Kygo. The lyrics say  "I'm watching a star,  million light years away.  I wish I could pause,  and hit replay. ' Cause summers go so fast.  Darlin' can we freeze."   I'll listen to it every day.  Here is my summer playlist this year, a collection I found to get me through, or to let me cry. Hope you enjoy it. Summer 2022 - Letting Go What is getting you through? Or letting you cry? Or lifting you up?

I'm sitting on the beach watching wave after wave come in. And they are so soft, so gentle. A quiet little splash. Not big angry ocean waves like they were a few days ago - those kind that make you step back a bit and wonder if something bad is going to happen. Not today, Satan. These waves are soothing to the eye, to the heart, to the soul. They restore us. Make us see beauty again. I think we are all looking for that.  We've all been hit by waves these last few years. Those kind that knock us to the ground and toss us to and fro. I remember being little, jumping in the "rollies" with my cousins. We could handle that. It was fun. But then that one wave that you had to dive under really quick but it still caught you and threw you and you ended up with water in your nose and all discombobulated and you weren't sure you could hear or see or breathe. You had to go sit down and recover from the shock. Your mother would wrap you in a big sun-warmed beach towel and get

I walk past the open door of his room at least 3 times every day. The chaos that covered the bedroom floor is now neatly tucked, rolled, and tightly packed into plastic bins he bought himself this time from Target. It's a lifetime of memories of his own, a half lifetime of memories of mine. He wants to throw away a bunch of the stained and threadbare t-shirts that are from high school and college. He wore them painting and working out he says. He wore them to crew and hockey and "Mom, they're disgusting." He is moving on. But I want them. To me, these are the fondled memories that I treasure. T-shirts, hundreds it seems, that say HTAA and The Prep and Go Irish. They have been dripped on and ripped, spilled on and spat on, but they remind me of his baby blanket, now tucked up in the attic in a bin much like the ones he is now filling up; a baby blanket with spit-up stains and holes that he made while dragging that thing around the house and sucking on it as he fell asl

My chair has a blanket draped over it. It's a summer blanket, a beach blanket that the kids got me for my birthday a few years ago. It has a pretty blue background and white stripes, which is what a summer beach blanket should have. But when I open it to spread across my legs to keep off the chill, I see red juice stains from summers ago. There are about 4-5 pinkish dots that scatter across one small section of the blanket. I don't remember how they got there. I picture the blanket spread on the sand marking our family territory, making room for more people to gather around, and warning others that more would be joining us. The blanket holds everything from beach bags to T-shirts to sunglasses to towels and sometimes phones and wallets left under a baseball hat. The kids can lay across it or huddle around to eat their lunches. The stains could have come from anything. Maybe my niece ate a frozen SpongeBob popsicle from the Fudgie Wudgie guy. Maybe my daughter spilled juice as s

January. The house empty again after college kids and grads returned to their life. After our house feeling so full it's a bummer to walk past the empty bedrooms, as cute as I may try to make them. COVID exhausted! Dreary days punctuated by snow, we like, and ice, we don't like. Empty tree stands and mantels and windows that once held greens and wreaths and light. Meals that feel like leftovers, but they're not? Short days and cold temperatures. Lack of exercise or motivation. No wonder we are tired and longing. I know we are all just muddling through this time. I'm trying to hang on. Here's what I've found that helps. I hope it helps you too. One thing I have after Christmas are full cabinets. So I'm making all those treats that I planned to make over winter break that were quickly outsourced to restaurants and bakeries. We ordered food and went to the bagel shop more times than I expected. I need to empty the cabinets now. The pumpkin breakfast muffin mix,