this new year. in 52 parts.

The skill of writing is to create a context in which other people can think. Edwin Schlossberg

 

shrieks of laughter can often turn to tears of defeat when two little boys start to wrestle in their pajamas on my giant sized bed. it’s the softest playground they can imagine.

its tempting to let them wrestle away as i type here. just trying to sort out a few of the thoughts that invite me in this new year named 2013. wanting so desperately to start this year differently – yet knowing how mundane and even maniacal some of the new year mechanics have been for me in the past.

1. write ambitious list with every hopeful financial, spiritual, physical, and relational goal
2. visit list periodically throughout the year and be sorely disappointed
3. repeat. repeat. repeat.

this year invites me to so much change. so much growth. so much love and nurturing of my soul and the souls of those nearest and dearest to me. i don’t want to miss a moment of it. and writing it all down helps us to remember and not miss a moment of things.

so as the boys wrestle precariously close to my fragile bedside lamp and piles of suitcases wait to be unpacked from our fabulous family visit to California i pause and ask this week, this first week:

what desires my attention? what is desperate for my affection? what distracts my best intentions? lead me to the truth of what is best suited for peaceful and purposeful daily living.

right now, i think these boys need a wrestling coach.

xo.

mother.author.scholar.mother.