“Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more.

It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal

into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. Gratitude makes sense of our

past, brings peace for today and creates a vision for tomorrow.”

~Melody Beattie

In the name of gratitude and truthfulness I’ve decided to post a little piece of reality here once a week. Likely just a single picture. See my original post here.

I did not want to get out of bed this morning.

I slept late.

Dan woke me to tell me the time. “Not that you have to get out of bed, just thought you might want to know.”

No jumping out of bed. It’s grey. I’m cold. Flannel sheets are warm.

Thankful for the babe who woke me early but afterwards slept late, I pull on jeans and cardigan uniform, slip on familiar wool-lined slippers.

Late starting school, but we’re at it. A daughter composes cursive creative writing sentences about barf and bums. A son has forgotten how to count by fives.

We’re out of peanut butter. I wanted it for my toast. Instead I eat a cupcake left on the counter after yesterday’s plea for chocolate treat. For breakfast. At noon.

I pick a glob of porridge off the floor. There are bread crumbs everywhere and smears of God-only-know on the white tile floor.

Fruit flies have returned with warmer temperatures and the weekend’s apple boxes. The fruit fly trap reeks of red wine vinegar but it’s effective.

The Map of the World Jigsaw was broken over hardwood by well-intentioned small ones. Tears from older sibling.

There are dinosaur cutouts and paper scraps on the carpet.

Pencil shavings on the table (soon floor).

Breakfast isn’t cleaned up, lunchtime nips hard at my heals, and we have company arriving in an hour.

It’s these days that we aren’t playing our A-game that grace is at its richest. 

We’re messy and humbled, needy and weak. Because we need grace most on these days. And it’s always given for the asker.

And on this messy morning, when I wish the sun would break through cloud, and kids cared for cleaning, I’m surrounded by beauty. Beauty – the offering of joy. 

:: Cinnamon rooibos tea steaming in another favourite mug

:: big girls lingering in bed over library books

:: wee lass in her sweet new sweater with those darling skinny cords

:: first morning’s school whiner turned first to leave the school table

::  almond butter and honey on fresh bread slices

:: colour-coded checkmarks on 7yo’s math pages

:: little fingers tickling ivory

:: knitting bag close at hand

:: chicken stock simmering on stove

:: the excitement of reunion with a childhood friend

Funny how much easier it is to see when I’m looking.

I’m full of thanks.

::

What beauty do you see this day, lovelies?

“Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more.

It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal

into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. Gratitude makes sense of our

past, brings peace for today and creates a vision for tomorrow.”

~Melody Beattie

In the name of gratitude and truthfulness I’ve decided to post a little piece of reality here once a week. Likely just a single picture. See my original post here.

It was 22 litres of salsa. Peppers and onion chopped. Chilies painstakingly seeded and deribbed underwater. Tomatoes blanched, peeled, and chopped. Getting friendly in the pot with all the added goodies.

Suddenly the aroma turned bitter.

Did it burn? No, couldn’t have, we’ve been stirring. My partner-in-salsa reassured me. I tried to believe her but the odour was getting worse by the second. I whisked both stock pots of burners. I wafted, I sniffed, I called in a second opinion. Finally, we tasted. Ugh! One pot was passable – we named it Blackened Chili Salsa. The other was a lost cause. We debated, deliberated, brainstorned – holding out hope for some miracle of salsa and burned onions.

Dan spoke the truth we were avoiding. It was beyond saving. We ate a bowl (masked with plenty of sour cream and tortillas) and each canned a jar in memorial (maybe I can sneak it by the kids?) then 9 litres went down the garbage disposal.

We processed the half we’d saved. Tried to make light and avoid tears. But we were hard pressed to get through the rest of the job as our enthusiasm faded with the day’s light.

Then I pulled out the last jars after we’d cheered up a bit over dinner by Dan. One more casualty in this long day – a lid had somehow escaped. One more litre down.

Injury to insult, I tell you.

That’s the story that needed sharing (and putting to bed). And the story that resurrected Reality Check.

And, as the tradition goes, I’m thankful for the friend who shared my disappointment;

smiles and meagre laughter as we felt so frustrated;

strawberry margarita’s from the (mostly) sympathetic (somewhat humoured) husband;

the second pot saved only slightly scorched;

leftover salsa from last year to bolster my reserves;

my brave friend scrubbing dirty dishes and black pot bottoms;

and a good, healing cry at the end of the night, not about salsa, but certainly encouraged by it.

::

 If you’d like to join in with a reality check of your own, please add a link or note in the comments. 

“Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more.

It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal

into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. Gratitude makes sense of our

past, brings peace for today and creates a vision for tomorrow.”

~Melody Beattie

In the name of gratitude and truthfulness I’ve decided to post a little piece of reality here once a week. Likely just a single picture. See my original post here.

I felt so good, and I jumped back in. Back in to stacked dished, unpacked boxes, dirty laundry. Back in to hurry, hurry, rush, rush, don’t-slow-down stress.

I felt it in my cheek. The red-angry cheek that was so nearly healed. The cheek that burned with indignation at the the rushing and the going and the worrying.

And once again morning showed the truth. Another break-out, swelling, pain and this time I’m paying for it double.

I know I missed that lesson so I’m learning it again.

Slow.

Slow.

Slow.

I’m annoyed and I’m frustrated.

Slow.

Slow.

Slow.

But I’m seeing things I might have miseed. Seeing things I was too busy to look for. Childhood’s dreamings, winds whisperings, slanting light’s stories.

I’m all or nothing seeking middle ground. In this act of motherhood so rich and full. Demanding and undoing. I’m forced to balance. Knees on floor. Head in hands. Heart wide open. I’m learning.

And learning means practice. And it doesn’t come quick. But I’m learning and I’m full of the goodness of it.

Grateful for grace.

::

If you’d like to join in with a reality check of your own, please add a link or note in the comments!

P.S. There’s been a whole lot of reality here lately. I’ve been quite the downer but things are on the upswing. I’m opening my eyes and enjoying the good that surrounds me. Thanks for putting up with my aching heart.

“Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more.

It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal

into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. Gratitude makes sense of our

past, brings peace for today and creates a vision for tomorrow.”

~Melody Beattie

In the name of gratitude and truthfulness I’ve decided to post a little piece of reality here once a week. Likely just a single picture. See my original post here.

In this house that Dan has dubbed ‘the house of breaking’ we have broken more dishes, pottery, china, and jars in ten days than we have in combined years previously.

Mason jars cracked on ceramic tile, a lamp from a dresser, an entire shelf of pottery I was unpacking, and the list goes on.

I cried over the pottery (including two mugs my in-laws had sweetly brought to replace those last ones) but got over it.

But now I’m breaking a little in body. Shingles have kindly paid a return visit. I thought that burning on my cheek seemed familiar but didn’t think it was possible. I was wrong.

And this morning I broke into tears as I felt the scaly slap mark on my face. Tears of frustration, pain, and disappointment. All those things I had to get done moved promptly to the back burner.

This day I am so thankful for grace. For reminders of faithful love and new mercies. For a quiet afternoon with the little lady as Dan, overworked father that he is, snuck children away. For the little boy that took a nap in my arms while I drank in his sweetness. For a friend bringing dinner. For siblings helping siblings and offering words of healing to a tired mama. For the dear ones, family and friends, speaking prayers, support, and love. For a drop to my knees that reminded me who I am and what I believe. For faith, for love, for God I trust. For healing swift and sure.

And for that chipped mug to remember it all by.

No word of a lie: I typed that last sentence and one of our sweet vintage glasses smashed on the floor out of the hands of a well-intentioned child. Goodness gracious. 

::

If you’d like to join in with a reality check of your own, please add a link or note in the comments!

“Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more.

It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal

into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. Gratitude makes sense of our

past, brings peace for today and creates a vision for tomorrow.”

~Melody Beattie

In the name of gratitude and truthfulness I’ve decided to post a little piece of reality here once a week. Likely just a single picture. See my original post here.

A little while ago, I turned on Netflix for the kids while I frantically cleaned for a showing. I cued up Sesame Street from the last viewing and it began at this song. How suiting, how very suiting.

I’ve warned Dan to prepare himself for when I start crying – only four sleeps left in this house and sappy ads, and children’s stories are making me cry. There is an emotional floodgate getting ready to burst its dam but for now I’m busy with the many details of moving.

P.S. Someday soon I’ll be able to talk about something other than moving, I promise.

::

If you’d like to join in with a reality check of your own, please add a link or note in the comments!