Life

Simple morning routine and prayer

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With routines, I’ve learned that simple is best. Wake, 6-Minute Diary, then meditation followed by a short prayer. It is simple and quick, nearly idiot proof. The whole thing takes less than 20 minutes which makes it easy to accomplish. I’ve tried making more complicated routines but they were never managable for me. They included drinking a glass of lemon water (oh, the lemons I’ve had to throw out!), writing morning pages, gym time and creating a to do list for the day. I’ve learned that it takes time to build morning routines and to take it baby steps at a time, to give myself small successes first.

Although I have been a lifelong Catholic, fitting prayer into my day has not always been a priority. My prayers were always selfish, coming fast and furious when things got rough. Please get me out of this. Please make this better. If you help me with this, I’ll be a better person. Selfish. Don’t get me wrong, I’d pray for others too. If I knew of someone hurting or sick or in need of general support, I’d definitely send a quick prayer their way.

My prayers for today, though, are thankful, asking for help to stay in today, to keep myself free of fear, self-pity and self-seeking motives.  I ask to be shown times where I can help others instead of worrying about myself. When I pray during times of hardship, I’m praying more for grace to face something in a more accepting manner instead of making a situation go away. Without our trials and darkness, I’m pretty sure the sun wouldn’t shine so bright on easier days.

I also wanted to make my daily prayer more personal so I wrote my own. I used words that were in my heart, words that feel authentic when I say them. Am I more peaceful today because of prayer? I don’t know. But I do know I am more peaceful, accepting and resilient than I used to be.

Have a wonderful Friday and weekend!

MC

 

 

 

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parenting

God sent me a rainbow

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Before I continue you my story about my journey to quit sugar, I have to tell you about yesterday. It was a busy day where I had a multitude of errands to complete before driving my twelve year old to his first overnight camp experience. I hit the ground running with a car appointment that led to some unexpected expenses. I need it in good shape before I hit the road next week so I’m happy to have brought it in. From there I briefly checked in with my sleeping child and bounced to my next appointment to have my hair cut and colored so I would be ready for the next few busy weeks. Once home, I decided to let my still sleeping child rest on because I figured camp might leave him with some sleepless nights ahead.

By one, when he wasn’t awake yet, I peeked in to gently poke him awake (sleeping bears and all). This can often lead to him waking in a bad mood which it most certainly did. Why didn’t I wake him?! This was his last morning to play Fortnite (mommas don’t let your babies grow up to play Fortnite) and talk to friends before going internet and electroncs free for the next five days. I knew I was in for a tough couple of hours ahead. I let him play for a bit while I packed the car but I told him we had to leave by two so we could grab lunch on the way there. The only way I could get him out of the house was to turn off the internet and that never makes him happy.

Continue reading “God sent me a rainbow”

Life

A Yellow Notepad

This morning as I was doing my own kind of meditation where I lie in bed and send prayers and good thoughts for the day, I asked God to help me see what I should be in the world. On Sunday night we went to mass at a local Catholic college and it was amazing. For me, amazing doesn’t happen at mass all the time, but that night I felt so in tune with what the priest was enthusiastically asserting in his homily and it was all about being who and what we are supposed to be.

It didn’t come to me in a thunderbolt as I mulled this over in bed today but my thoughts drifted to a letter I need to write to a family member to set my side of the relationship right. It’s something I let go too long but it’s never too late, right? The letter needs to be hand written, something I haven’t done in many, many years.

Into my mind popped a vision of a yellow notepad, a notepad I used abundantly during the summer of 1988 to write letters to my brother, Jeff, who had taken his life 17 months prior. I was in the anger stage of my grieving process. It was the summer after my sophomore year of college and I was unable to find employment where my parents lived and so my uncle generously found me a well paying flag person job and I went to live with him, my aunt and young cousins 100 miles from home.

Standing in a u-turn on a major highway, alone for 12 hours a day gives a person quite a bit of time to think. I did a lot of that, headphones in my ears as I listened to the soundtrack of that summer: Walking in Memphis, Simply Irresistible, Hands to Heaven and everything by Phil Collins. When I hear these songs I can be transported back to that summer like it was last week.

Back to the yellow notepad. I would be exhausted at the end of the day and even though I had a boyfriend living nearby, I mostly spent the evenings in my room, scrawling out these lengthy messages to my dead brother. I was trying to come to grips with the why, a nearly fruitless endeavor for suicide survivors. This was long before I heard of the concept of a suicide survivors group. I also eschewed therapy, preferring to go it alone (a common theme in my life).

I wrote on those notepad pages until my hand hurt and then would carefully pull the pages from the pad, fold it in thirds as though I were about to tuck it into a number 10 envelope and then deposit it in the top drawer of the dresser. By the end of the summer the drawer was full but I was no closer to the answers I sought. If I packed them up as I left for my dorm that fall, I don’t remember.

Writing on that yellow pad was an integral part of my very long recovery process. Like the songs of the summer of 1988, I can’t see a yellow pad without remembering the angst of my nocturnal writing during those summer months. If I could write a letter to my 20 year old self, I’d tell her it was going to get better. Time heals all wounds is a trope no grieving person ever wants to hear even if it is true.

Somehow, over time (lots and lots of time), my heart patched over and I was able to work through my grieving process. I was able to go on and work with other survivors, listen on a hotline as people called in with the things that weighed heavily on their mind. Is remembering the notepad part of God’s mission for me? I think it is, at least for today because it was the first image I saw when I looked at Twitter this morning. I will keep seeking the clues He sends me.

MC

parenting

Raw Parenting

A week ago we had our first parent teacher meeting for the sixth grade school year. I always have a bit of anxiety around these meetings because I’m never sure what I’m going to hear, but I was going in with optimism since the school year had barely started.

Admittedly it did not start off uneventfully as we received email communication from a teacher within the first week about a long-standing issue with his talking in class. We addressed it and started anew. The next week we stopped in for a talk with his advisor who will help him navigate the year and this conversation was also mixed. He’s a good kid, a smart kid, but his emotions run high and he’s often in conflict with a few of his classmates. Deep breath. Start anew.

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Writing

Writer’s (un)block

I have been away from the blog for a bit (the post I published yesterday was written a few month’s ago). It has not been an auspicious beginning for me with the new site! I was stumped as to why I had such a block against writing and so instead of ringing my hands over it any longer, I made it as simple as possible and started putting pen to paper for the last two months. It may have done the trick!

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I wrote about anything and everything that popped into my brain. What happened during the day. How I slept. What I ate. Who I saw. It was painfully dry! Then something started happening and I began to wake up early (5:00/5:30) eager to open the notebook and let my thoughts pour out.

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