I Choose Love

Fear has many disguises. It is a shape-shifter. On any given day, it can appear in my life as

• rage
• disgust
• anxiety
• judgement
• anger
• self-loathing
• negativity
• despair
• grief
• hatred
• defensiveness

The list could go on and on. But these are the guises in which fear most appears in my life. I once read that all human emotions can be divided into two groups: fear, or love.

Think about it. When you have that knot of anxiety (for me, it's in my upper abdomen/solar plexus; in my husband, it's his teeth that hurt when he feels anxious), poke at it a bit. Like your tongue probing the gap left behind by a just-lost tooth, it's a bit morbid to explore pain; it hurts. But it's hard to stop yourself, too.

If you just breathe through it, like breathing through a contraction, you'll see that surface emotion beginning to unfurl, revealing the base of it all.

Fear.

I'm tired of feeling fearful. Fear of the future, fear of not having enough money, fear of being "stuck" here with my children all summer without a vehicle, fear of something bad happening to my loved ones, fear of being clung to and depended on, fear of failing, fear of succeeding, fear of being overweight for the rest of my life, fear of not fulfilling my potential, fear of clutter.

Did I say I'm tired of feeling fearful?

I'm EXHAUSTED. It takes a lot of energy. That fear needs feeding and daily nurturing. It needs negative self-talk. It needs the encouragement I give it when I give in to it.

I read the book I mentioned above (I can't for the life of me remember its title) when I was in the newest stages of love with my husband. We read it together, and marvelled at the simplicity of it:

Choose love.

Choose love.

There have been moments in my life as a wife and mother where I scoffed at the over-simplicity of that concept. Sure, I could choose love when I made enough money to cover our cheap rent, when I had time to exercise and meditate, when the future lay ahead of us like a treasure map. Like the bloom of first love, it faded into the mediocrity of every-day-living.

There's just so much more to fear now, with three little people depending upon me, with my heart walking outside my body in the form of my children.

But I've recently come to realise that all of the things I long for: a peaceful, clutter-free home, harmonious children, a passionate and connected relationship with my husband...are within my reach.

When I get angry at my children, it is easy to blame THEM: they're aggravating, they make too many messes, they are so DEMANDING!

When I am frustrated with my husband, it is easy to blame HIM: he's forgetful, he's self-centred, he doesn't earn enough money, he doesn't take care of his car.

I'm tired of all this blame. I'm remembering something I once knew:

It's not them. It's me.

I'm afraid. Mostly I'm afraid of not having control in my life.

But I've made a decision, because I've remembered in a deep place within my soul what once made perfect sense to me.

I have a choice.

Starting today, I choose love.

I choose love.

The Wonder Times

In the quiet of the early morning, I slipped outside in my nightgown, rubber boots, and a cozy sweater to hide a few more eggs before the children awoke.

When I came back inside I was struck by the peace and quiet in this sunrise-lit space. So often it is cluttered, surfaces covered in spills and crumbs, yarn and toys. So often it contains the whispers of princesses conspiring with the pirate chief, the cries of wounded feelings, the loud negotiations for a coveted toy. This is truly a Living Room. It is the place where we play, rest, create, argue, veg out, make music, read stories, cuddle, and imagine. It is so rare that it looks this serene and orderly.

Eggs added splashes of colour here,

and there.

Magical creatures

and a guardian frog kept watch over the Easter treats waiting for my children to wake up.

Soon, we all ventured outside. A quick reminder to the oldest child to let the littler ones find some eggs, and they were off with shouts of glee and discovery.

This oldest child is always so considerate of his little sisters, guiding them to where the eggs were hidden.

The littlest one shows off her Easter booty!

Watching them, I was aware of the fleetingness of this time in our lives, when all three of our children "believe"; they have heard no rumours of whether or not our magical friends really exist, and as of yet, there are no arguments about what an older kid told them about these invisible purveyors of Christmas gifts, Easter eggs, and tooth money.

These are the Wonder Times, and, like that rare quiet moment alone in our Living Room, I have the good sense to pause and truly enjoy them.  

I know they won't last forever.

Little Quilts

While the Handmade Holidays movement is appealing to me in terms of resisting consumerism, teaching my children the "real" meaning of Christmas, and showing off my crafty self, I'll admit that this year I'm handcrafting my children's gifts because I'm flat broke. There is really nothing left at the end of the month, with mortgage and childcare payments, and part-time pay. Often there's nothing left in the middle of the month, either. Things are about as bad, financially, as they've ever been. It's time to put snow-tires on the van but there's no money for that. Each month we wonder if we can hang on a bit longer (till I go back to full-time work) or if we should think about selling the homestead.

I don't think I would be alone in acknowledging the fact that choosing to live simply is based in large part on our income. It would be much easier to just go out and buy gifts, pyjamas, etc. for my kids for Christmas. And I know that a day might come where the little handmades I offer don't seem like "enough". But my mom mentioned the other day how lucky I am that my kids don't watch TV the way we did when we were kids. They really have no idea what's out there in terms of toys. When I asked them what they'd like Santa to bring, they were kind of stumped. So, anything new-to-them that's wrapped and under the tree will bring as big a thrill as some shinily-packaged, plastic-wrapped, store-bought gift.

I'm trying to kick the Facebook habit that has begun to absorb much of my "spare" time. Last night, instead of sitting there like a crackhead, chatting with friends and looking at other people's photos, I sat at the kitchen table and sewed these two quilt tops. We plan to repaint a small bunkbed, crib, and rocking chair for the girls, and present them with a little doll nursery, complete with colourful little quilts. The nine-patch is one of the easiest of quilt patterns: just cut out five squares of one colour, and four of another, and sew them together to create a checkerboard. Lots of these blocks will use up your scrap stash, and could turn into a quilt of any size you wish!

You can find a tutorial for log-cabin blocks here.

Every year I plan to send Christmas cards. "Plan" is the operative word, here. As a schoolteacher, December is particularly busy for me: with the normal decorating/baking/gift-making/etc. that goes into preparing my home, I also create gifts for my students, plan and rehearse our Christmas concert performance, transform the dramatic play centre into a Toy Shop, and so on. But with my rediscovered, Facebook-free time last night, I stitched this little patch, which I will glue onto cardstock. To keep things within reason, I've decided to send cards only to friends and family I see/talk to regularly, instead of to everyone in my address book. I know the ease with which I get overwhelmed. I love the word "peace"...and dream of really feeling it in my heart this holiday season.