Letting the light come in

I can hardly believe it, Lobsters, but last week, I actually turned on my sewing machine. 

Before Sofia was born, Manny got me a sewing machine for my birthday in order to fill decades of dreaming of becoming a proficient quilter. I made a few squares, baby came, and then I went into early retirement. I finally have space for craft projects now, but the supplies and tools all just sit there, mocking me as I run back and forth chasing my little mobility machine. 

But this week, fed up with my computer, and finally relieved when Sofia went down for a nap [she hadn't been napping for a few weeks], I turned to my sewing machine for revitalization. By some stroke of fate, I managed to whip the project out before she woke up and without any huge disasters or even re-starts. This is not usually how well my crafting works out. Not that the finished project is worth any lavish display, but it is functional, and that's enough to satisfy me. 

I know there are lots of blogs out there with incredibly helpful tips and tools for making everything in your house yourself, I even knew a guy who once promised me a home-made video-cam [and this was in the '90's when I didn't actually believe these would ever truly exist, and was mostly mocking him when I told him, "sure, I'll take one"]. This is not that blog. I didn't use or even make a pattern, I just kind of flew by the seat of my pants. My most careful decision was the fabric, the rest was mostly just me messing around. 

But just the messing around felt good. To think the project through. To pull together all the tools. To feel the fabric break beneath the cutter. To smooth the pieces away from each other. To guide them through the machine. To let the friction work between my fingers as I turned it inside out. To experiment and adjust. To iron out the finished product. To wave it before my then awake daughter to show her what I'd made.

I am not sharing so much because I think you are all dying to sew your own curtain tie-backs, but just to celebrate the joy of creating, and to appreciate the gift of light. 

I have been warned hundreds of times since our August arrival that the early sun sets are one of the hardest parts of enduring Maine's winters, being so far north and all. But like many things we are experiencing here, you don't truly understand the wisdom people are granting you until you live through it. It gets real dark, real early, and its real weird. Sofia woke up from her nap and was honestly frightened by the fact that it was already completely dark out. Now, any bit of vitamin D we can expose our epidermis to is an urgent issue of gratitude. 

So while in the summer I was so relieved when they finally installed our curtains (privacy, protection from the warm sun in an house without air conditioning), it is now a relief to be able to pull those curtains back and just let the light come in.

It is a rather passive act, letting the light come in. I did not make the sun, I do not warm our house with the suns rays, but I made way for the light to do its thing after a time of not. I don't know that I'm really much of a crafter, but it felt good to craft. I don't know whether I am a writer in the making, but it feels good to write about this and share with you. I don't know if I am an artist in the making, but there is a harmony with my deeper self when I am able to create. I do know that I am a creature of the light, and it warms my soul to let the light in. 

Dear Sofia

Dear Sofia,

You just took a two hour nap. You haven’t been napping well for a couple weeks, so this was an incredible treat. While you napped, I was able to clean the house so that I can host my bible study tonight without feeling utterly shameful for making the disarray we live in so exposed. I also got to employ a fun home-design idea I saw on pinterest, instead of just dreaming of pretty things like usual. We now have a coffee and tea bar in our kitchen and I love it! I also got to spend time writing and working on the blog I run with Auntie Em. This time to catch up and be quiet alone was such a sweet blessing to your Mama. Thank you my sweetheart.

But now you are awake. I can hear you through the baby monitor. You are babbling away at who knows who. Is it the stuffed lobster in your crib? The little dolly I had when I was a little girl? Or are you talking to the baby figurines across the room that you love so much? What are you telling them? You seem so happy and peaceful and busy and pleased. Every now and then I hear you say, “mama mama” but you seem content enough to play by yourself. The tricklings of your voice are just the sweetest sound, second perhaps only to the sound of your little laugh. My quiet and solitude were refreshing, but your joyful noises fill my heart so fully that I think I might burst out into tears of happiness.

You are a miraculous creation. You used to be a fluttering in my tummy. And then you were a bundle, always in my arms. And then you were a flopping little fish wriggling around on the floor, never getting anywhere very fast. But these days you are a motion machine. Crawling and climbing and chasing or being chased all around the house. You grasp whichever set of hands you can get to first and then you are off like a freight train, always on a mission. To the bathroom! To the guest room! To the bedroom! To the kitchen! The other day, you crawled from the opposite end of the house all the way to your play room and plopped down to enjoy your toys. How do you know your way around so well? How can you be so capable? Where does all your curiosity and ingenuity come from? You always have a project,  a problem to solve, a skill to master. Always at work in your play.

What are you at work on now? As you make raspberries with your lips, as you utter such profound nonsense to inanimate objects? I can hear you bounce in your crib. Dancing to the music in your own heart. You have more energy than I can keep up with most days, my love. You amaze me beyond my mind’s comprehension. You are such a sweet blessing to my soul. I love you, my dear one. I love you so much.

Blessed to the brim,

Your Mama

Runneth Over

A matter of seconds ago, Sofia fell asleep in my arms. With her knees curled up into my chest and her angelic little face nuzzled against me, I carried her into her room, laid her down in her crib and watched her roll into a ball and fall still like a peaceful little doodle bug.


A moment like that feels so beautiful it almost physically hurts as my heart swells up. But it was a bookend to a challenging couple of hours. She was up in the five o'clock hour, erratic in her movements, unclear in her needs, sometimes fussy in an almost desperate way that just leaves me perplexed. It made me think of what Emily said in a recent post about being challenged in calming her little Eiley. That post stuck with me and I keep thinking about how many of my blissful-motherhood-moments are the seconds after Sofia falls asleep. The time in between her sleeping is HARD! That's why there are so many mommy-blogs out there with titles like "While you were napping" - because we're not getting much done during the other hours of the day!


So now here I am, enjoying the peaceful view out my window, enjoying the blessing of a few moments to write, just praying that the buzz and hum of the world around our home (stupid riding lawn mowers!) will not wake her up. And it is beautiful. And I need to remember that when I woke up this morning and looked out the window, there was a grapefruit-pink hue tinting the trees and sky outside my window. As I got Sofia dressed for the day I was overcome by her cuteness. My husband made me coffee and took care of tons of dishes without being asked. When Sofia hurt herself rolling around on the carpet, and I picked her up, she clung to me as if I could really make her feel better just by my closeness.


My head was spinning so much that I couldn't feel all the blessings of this morning, but they were there. Thank goodness for naps, for peace, for solitude, for quiet. Thank God for moment where I can sit calm, but alert, to the goodness He weaves into the hours of challenge and growth.

Today, This happened

Lobsters, remember when I talked about how rare and special it was for me to get my hands in the dirt? Well today I bought myself some gardening gloves and while this happened:

This:

[unruly weeds]

morphed into this:

and this:

and this:

That means today was a good day!