Mopping the floors is great meditation. Especially when, as I am mopping I notice the beautiful wood grain of the 97 year old fir floors underneath the mop head. And as I mop I begin to imagine how beautiful the floor will be when we finally get to refinish them. Of course we won’t be refinishing the floors until after we finish paying off those student loans. We are back on the Dave Ramsey plan. Mopping the floors shows me just one more reason why we need to be gazelles.
Simple Living
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Mopping meditations
Thursday, June 25th, 2009Where do you want to be a year from now?
Wednesday, June 10th, 2009“A year from now you will wish you had started today.” – Karen Lamb
Head to Toe in Red Georgia Dirt.
Friday, May 8th, 2009Jesse is my big brother by three years…exactly…to the day, I mean. When we were little, we were best friends. We always played together. He would have tea parties with me, and I would play Swamp Rats with him. We had two monster truck toys with Swamp Rat decals on the hoods. My parents were doing the dirt work to build a house, and Jesse and I would play in the red Georgia dirt. We would build ramps and tunnles and mud pits for our swamp rats to go over, under, and through. At the end of the day we were covered from head to toe in that red clay.
Then one day, when I was about 7, Jesse gave me his swamp rat. After his gift, I owned another toy, but I had lost my best friend. That’s when I first learned that stuff doesn’t make you happy.
Questions about Mothers
Tuesday, May 5th, 2009Do mothers always feel this same overwhelming love for their children? Does the love keep washing over you when he is 24 years old the same way it did when he was 24 hours old? Will my heart leap with delight every time I see him the same way it did when I held him for the first time? Will I always want to touch his cheek while he is sleeping so peacefully? Will the love always bring tears to my eyes?
I sure hope so.
Windows that always face the sunshine
Tuesday, April 14th, 2009When I was young, we lived in a big old house with a big front porch and windows that always seemed to face the sunlight.
My bedroom had lace curtains and a balcony.
My dad would take me out on the balcony and sing me to sleep:
“God made the stars in the sky,
God made the moon way up high.God made the dog go…”
“Woof woof” (that was my part of the song)“God made the cat go.”
“Meow!”
and on and on the song went until either I fell asleep or dad sang something like “God made the fish go…”
“How does a fish go, Daddy?”
Mom sang to me too:
“I love little Sunny, she is so sweet
I love little Sunny, she is so sweet.
I love little Sunny,
I love little Sunny,
I love little Sunny my girl.”
I sing that song to my own baby now.
I spent my days playing and helping my mommy. I like to help her fold laundry.
Everytime I found a pair of Daddy’s underwear, I would hold them up and say in the loud voice that is standard for a 3 year old, “But in the Borld is dis?” Then I would giggle and laugh.
Everytime I hear my tea kettle whistle I feel happy, everytime I hear a sewing machine I know that all is right with the world. I’m sure it takes me back to those days playing in the sunshine and listening to Mom hum as she went through her day–cleaning, sewing, painting, and always stopping for a afternoon cup of tea.
Now I live in an old house of my own with lace curtains (soon) and windows that always face the sunshine. I have a baby of my own and I sing to him. He’s too little to help me fold laundry, but I have a big oak table for him to sit on when he is read to help. For now he just rides in the backpack and watches.
I hope that someday my baby will associate Mom humming, the tea kettle whistling, and the sewing machine buzzing along with his own happy childhood. That’s the life I want for myself. That’s the life I want for my baby.
