Precious

My daughter lost her first tooth while we were out visiting teaching. Yes, I am one of those sisters who takes her children with her on her visits. I will pause here for any readers who need to wrinkle their noses in annoyance at that last statement. Faces all smooth again? All right then. My daughter was ecstatic! I put the tooth in my wallet for safe keeping, but she just couldn't stand it. She needed to have that tooth in her hands. As we drove to our next appointment I counseled her to leave the tooth in the car, or to put it back in my purse.

Oh no, that would never do. So the tooth came with us to our next appointment. Ten minutes later, her crestfallen face peered around the corner. She climbed into my lap and buried her face in my shoulder. The tooth was lost. Really lost. We searched, and prayed and searched. No tooth.

We got back in the car and began driving. A tear stained voice came from the back "Mom, my tooth was all smooth on one side and white like snow on the other. That is why it was precious to me. Does Heavenly Father know how precious it is to me?"

I had to blink away a few tears before I answered. In her words I heard the echo of every prayer I have ever prayed. "Father, this is so very precious to me. Do you know how precious this is to me?"

What a joy to look in the rear view mirror and tell her with absolute certainty "Yes, my girl, He knows you. He knows how precious your tooth is to you. He loves you and if it is right, He will help you find your tooth."

In the end, we drew a picture of the tooth to leave under her pillow, and that was all right. A few weeks later her second tooth came out. She still has it.

Writing

I love to speak. Teaching is my catnip. When I try to get those same words through my pen and onto paper they fall apart ... the words that is. Despite this disadvantage I have always wanted to write children's books, and (fanfare of trumpets) I finally have! I have two stories nearing completion. One of my peer editors, a wonderful and experienced writer, suggested that I start blogging to get more comfortable with moving the words out of my head, past my mouth and out through my fingers. I had wanted to try blogging for a while, and this was just the incentive I needed to commandeer my hubby's computer and get going.

Yes, I occasionally talk to the screen, but I think this writing business is starting to work out. Thanks for being here with me. It means a lot to know that what I write might actually be read.

Plink

(plink) That is the most gratifying sound in the world.

I've just set my aching muscles into a hard backed kitchen chair. (plink) Blissful exhaustion is what I am feeling right now. Fifty nine quarts of grape juice gleam gorgeously at me from my kitchen counter - 28 white and 31 purple. (plink) A few jars of grape jam and syrup cluster around the edges. While my tomatoes finish processing, I thought I would write a few words to keep me awake.

Those tomatoes are a victory to me. (plink) They are like seven bright red trophies. I have a deep and irrational fear of botulism (plink) which has kept me from doing tomatoes in the past. My husband, the grower of the tomatoes, has finally convinced me that canned tomatoes do not mean instant death. I am glad. I love tomatoes.

My daughter, the 20 month old, got in touch with her Italian roots today. One moment she was munching on grapes from a bowl, the next the grapes were on the floor being crushed into the linoleum by her bare feet. My own little vitner. (Wiki Answers assures me that vitner is the right word for wine maker. I am going to take their word for it.)

Well it took me seven tries to get the word "moment" spelled correctly in the last paragraph. That must mean I have more exhaustion than bliss. Goodnight friends.

Wabi Sabi

Wabi Sabi. What a funny name for a beautiful concept.

Wabi sabi is a Japanese concept for a special sort of beauty. Here is the definition which I am borrowing from Everyday Sacred, and which the author borrowed from some other book.

"Wabi sabi is a beauty of things imperfect, impermanent and incomplete. It is a beauty of things modest and humble. It is a beauty of things unconventional."

Is that not perfect? I want to take that definition, wrap it up, devour it, chisel it into my mind and frame it.

I am thinking of the imperfect, things in my life and how I have been missing their beauty these last few days - oh, let's be honest, more like months. In some cases I have never seen their beauty at all.

Thank you wabi sabi.

He said, She said

I am chuckling.

I just noticed that my husband had signed up to follow my blog. With looks of deep love and gratitude I thanked him for joining. I then asked if he read any of it.

"Yeah, I read the one about the Zen child," he said

"I didn't write one about a child," I said

"You did," he insisted "you wrote about a Zen child and a bucket."

If you read the post about the man the monk and the cup of tea you may be chuckling too.

As the French would say "Vive, la differe'nce." Thank heaven for that little difference.

And thank you honey for loving me as I write about my "buckets".

Overflow

I love the story about the Zen monk who is visited by an eager, would be student. This young man has traveled many miles to see the monk and has many questions. The monk listens as the questions pour forth, but he says nothing. The student becomes irked, then annoyed, then frustrated as his teacher continues to sit in silence

Finally, the teacher says "Pour me a cup of tea and I will tell you when to stop."

The student begins pouring - and pouring - and pouring. The tea fills the cup, flows over the edge and over the table.

Exasperated the student says "Can't you see that the cup is full?!"

"And so it is with you," says the teacher. "Your mind is full of too many things. Only when it is empty will there be room for more."

The image of an overflowing tea cup appeared in my mind this afternoon. I looked at my list of "to-dos" - 18 items all in need of urgent attention. I wondered if they were important or just urgent. After some debate with myself I looked and my children and knew what what I needed to do. I emptied my cup.

Two hours later, here is what had made it back into my cup:

Helping my four year old son shoot baskets with a beach ball

Going for a walk - adjusting our pace so my 20 month old daughter could walk beside us.

Stopping at the park we usually hurry past because we are too busy.

Watching my daughter walk through the grass in light blue overalls, a yellow t-shirt and sunshine in her rag-a-muffin hairdo.

Helping my son with the monkey bars.

At the end of the day, seven of the 18 suspended items got done. They say there is a time for everything. In my life everything seems to need attention right NOW and I overflow into an unnecessary mess.

Have I learned my lesson? Not likely. But I hope I am a step closer.

Tsunami

Tonight I ventured into the world of blog. I viewed 11 sites and am still spluttering from the deluge of personality and verbiage. The visible tech savvy alone was awe inspiring.

Confession: We just got the Internet for the first time in eight years. My ancient computer skills quaked when I saw just how much needs learning. I felt outdated and I hate feeling outdated. With my arms full of children, diapers and occasionally my handsome husband, I don't know how to fit this new endeavor in. If anyone out there with a high tolerance for interruptions, spontaneous dance performances and tears (most of these coming from my children) is willing to be a tutor please let me know.

Bottom Line: This adventure will have to come on my terms. Right now my terms are slow and stretch-marked. Someday I will be able to live fast and furiously again. Till then, I need to learn some patience ... and what the heck a tweet is.

Wish me luck!