porch.
half circled by children
tinny banjo uke sound
coffee hot
sunglasses found
fog just lifting
sun just shining
strangers biking past
flowers hiding in buds
birds calling
more birds calling
roosters practicing crows
hens cackling

then house.
dim
cool
airy
swept
ready

good morning, morning.

i loved being pregnant, smooth and round, noticed and full.
i loved labor, predictable and interesting, surrender calling me and hot water.
i loved birthing my babies, like fish flapping and cool breeze, eyes closed but seeing it all.
i loved nursing, tingling and release, sustaining and sweet.

more and more i understand why. they were times when so much made sense. they were times when my body did work without me even trying to help. they were times when focus was inevitable, pain was normal, naps were essential, water tasted amazing, bumps and lumps were the beautiful evidence of life.

i love these children who came through me.
further more, i like them.

as these people grow older, i find myself watching them more. they don’t need me like they used to. i’m a bit farther back so i can see the slight raise of their eyebrows, the way they move their arms when they walk, the moment they notice a bird in the tree, the information they discover on their own, the technique to tie their shoes, where the water hits when carrying a full bucket.

to say i’m grateful to be their mother feels like i’m only scratching the surface.  like showing the vastness of the ocean with a thimble of water, the magic of a forest with a single leaf.

but under the surface is the quiet, deep knowing of the gift it is to simply watch the moments of their lives happen. happy mother’s day.

the simplicity and bounty of eliza’s birthday party seems in horrific contrast to the events of the world.

but i want to be at ease living in both worlds.
or maybe it’s walking down the middle of the two;
dipping in and out while coming back to center.
the hungry and the overfull.
the pure life energy and the dullness of lacking.
the carefree moments and those of fear.
the fire burning because we wanted it and the rubble that is left.

dipping in and out of all of life is where it’s at.

and on this day the backyard is where it was. eliza invited school friends for a backyard party with the chickens and the lambs.

these kids all attend the walton school and many of them live on farms.

when wanting to catch a certain chicken they didn’t call for the “brown one,” the called for the “buff orpington.” they didn’t call for the “black and white” one, they called for the “barred rock.”

they were kind and never complained about playing outside even in cool damp weather.

neighbor bunnies came and were almost impossibly cute.

having one child say, “mrs. epp, this is the best food i’ve ever had” made me feel like i was in another time period.

 

it was a family event:  naomi tied strings on all the donuts, micah and a friend hid eggs for a hunt, jerry grilled burgers and impromptu grilled cheeses, i was “in chawg because i know how to explain things so kids know what i mean.”

and when things resorted to piggy back rides, i felt AGAIN like it was another time period.  
such simple fun.

the day began and ended with gratitude for the joy. thank you, friends.

if yesterday’s gift of ice-enclosed reality wasn’t enough, when the sun rose with no clouds to cover it, our land shimmered.

the before-school chicken choring turned to ice exploring. i resisted getting my camera, chose to soak it all in with them. committed myself to seeing it without a plastic lens. but then our friend found something i didn’t know was possible:  a piece of grass sticking out the ground directly beneath the garage awning was all fat-worm like.

“that’s it kids, i’m getting my camera!”

micah kept the youngers off it and then the seeing through another lens began.

mama, a frozen acorn!
listen to this (ice falling off a kicked fence)!
no way!

the final moment before loading up my son for our daily just-the-two-of-us trip to school, he sent the basketball into the net.

and it stuck. his laughter was a day-changer.

and while i don’t tuck the film in a paper envelope and write my personal information on the provided lines or close myself in the dark room at the high school with the smells that can only come from there, i do have the few moments of taking out the memory card and connecting cord to computer to see what i thought i saw.

by the time preschool started, the cracking and dripping began.

with leg strong and nimble, we kicked our way through a 15 minute ice demolition celebration.

by the afternoon there was cracking and melting that mimicked a rain shower.

it’s like we know the earth is alive!  indeed we do.

frozen
adj

1. rendered immobile
2. motionless or unyielding
3. preserved
4. kept at a fixed level
5. impossible to withdraw

welcome, april 10. i didn’t expect you like this.

i read some weeks back the notion that prayer is talking, meditation is receiving.

a few days ago i heard the stories of peter listening first instead of talking first.

today i read that sometimes it is best to stay silent and smile.

many already know this without knowing they know it. i’m just learning.

so, with a silent smile, i share with you images of a new place to me.

march 20, 2013: the first international day of happiness

“On this first International Day of Happiness, let us reinforce our commitment to inclusive and sustainable human development and renew our pledge to help others. When we contribute to the common good, we ourselves are enriched. Compassion promotes happiness and will help build the future we want.”

had i known that today was the first international day of happiness, might i have noticed things more?

might i have felt more deeply the sun on my face while my 15 year old read out loud to me?

might i have giggled a little harder at my 8 year old’s clapping game?

might i have said yes to an offer to play basketball with my 11 year old?

might i have walked a half mile further along the dirt road with my dog?

might i have scrubbed the whole floor, not just the sticky spots, to let the sun bounce off?

oh, sweet mother teresa, thank you again.

“People are often unreasonable and self-centered. Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of ulterior motives. Be kind anyway.
If you are honest, people may cheat you. Be honest anyway.
If you find happiness, people may be jealous. Be happy anyway.
The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway.
Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough. Give your best anyway.
For you see, in the end, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway.”

get ready 2014. next march 20 i’m going to rock international day of happiness.

:: :: :: ::

while we are talking happiness, i would like to shout out my joy for my little brother who was ON JAY LENO ALONG WITH BAND MATES OF BLACK PRAIRIE! i am so grateful that i hold nothing but sheer happiness for his light and joy.