What’s Saving My Life :: Winter 2016 Edition

February 1, 2016 Lindsey P. BrackettLeave a comment

I adore that Anne of Modern Mrs. Darcy says this about the Saving My Life posts…

The idea comes from Barbara Brown Taylor’s wonderful memoir Leaving Church. In it, Taylor tells the story of when she was invited to speak at a gathering, and her host assigned the topic: “Tell us what is saving your life right now.”

This is one of those six-degrees-from-Kevin-Bacon moments. (Did you ever play that in high school?) Barbara Brown Taylor is a professor at a local college here, so I see her and read her writings in the way that frequent small towns do–without much recognition that greatness lives among us. I haven’t read her memoir, but I might add it to my #60in2016 Reading Challenge.

But anyway…

Saving my life right now doesn’t look much different from last year about this time when I penned a post for the same link up with the same theme. But this time last year I was drowning in fear over my daughter’s neurological diagnosis and every moment seemed a blessing in disguise.

This year I’m aiming for renewal–of my soul, my hope, my joy, my focus. Last year was hard on us emotionally and many times, the year was as crushing as it was uplifting. For all the strides I made publishing-wise I still found myself floundering for my purpose, wondering how I could really be called to much beyond these four little souls (who try my temper daily) and making sure everyday physical and spiritual needs are at least acknowledged.

But there’s a call to not just write but share. And I hope that’s what this little corner means to you–that it’s a place I share the real and just write life.

Saving My Life Right Now :: Winter 2016 Edition

The Trampoline. Seriously best Christmas present ever. Keeps them all occupied with something that’s not digital for longer than 20 minutes. Netflix, you’ve been replaced.
My Reading Challenge. I love this group that came about because so many of you said you wanted to read 60 books in 2016 with me. I’m six down: Gone Girl, Dear Mr. Knightley, Jane Eyre, Raising Grateful Kids, The Extroverted Writer, and Restless which leads me to…
On the nightstand for February.
Scripture. Which, I know, is the point of believing the Bible is God-breathed, but when you’ve been a good church girl your whole life, like me, you run the risk of letting the familiar become… familiar. Which is why I read Restless and why I’m exploring some verse-mapping ala Kristy Cambron (and also I’m an author blog stalker). Also why this one is on my reading list.
My Better Life Bag. An early birthday present (twenty days until I tip early-thirties and into late-thirties) from my patient husband who appreciates a specific request. And, you know, a list for him that’s been commissioned as a blog post.
This boy and his trucks. He both saves me from days of uninterrupted computer time, which would undoubtably result in back spasms and poor eyesight, and drives me batty because we’re trying to sell the house and piles of dirt and rocks don’t exactly say curb appeal. But that grin? It’s kind of irresistible.

Tell me about you–what’s saving your life right now? And if you want in on #60in2016 let me know!

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How Do You Measure a Year?

December 31, 2015December 31, 2015 Lindsey P. Brackett1 Comment

I’d forgotten all about these lyrics until my jazzercise instructor used the song in class the other day–

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear
Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?

In daylights, in sunsets
In midnights, in cups of coffee
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife
In five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure, a year in the life?
Read more at http://www.songlyrics.com/rent/seasons-of-love-lyrics/#ulRxxkIvQXcSY0JZ.99

The words all came rushing back along with lots of memories of drives back onto Berry’s campus late at night after Waffle House runs. My friend Melanie would put in her Rent soundtrack and roll down the windows and we’d be all young and idealistic and going-to-change-the-world.

Then we all grew up and life happened and years have gone by and we’re all world changers in some big and small ways if we open our eyes to see.

View More: http://candiceholcomb.pass.us/al-wedding

How do you measure a year?

2015 will blow out today, taking with it bands of storms that have plagued lives and spirits. The flood waters haven’t just risen in the Mississippi or spilled over the levees in St. Louis or my sleepy little college town.

They’ve spilled over my life in countless ways of hope and fear and promise and pain.

So do I measure the passing of 2015 in MRIs and blood work and countless unknowns? We took my almost-six-year-old for her sixth MRI yesterday. She’s considered stable right now, and most of the time, these days, we are too. But in other ways this will always be the year I watched my daughter’s little body degenerate–

and watched her learn how to put herself back together.

That’s the hope I need to carry. That she, as her physical therapist reminded us this week, always compensates and keeps going, never worrying about the fatigue or the pain.

May I learn that lesson from my child.

How do I measure a year?

In apologies and forgiveness, rather than meltdowns and tantrums.

In acts of kindness, not jealousy.

In second chances and mistakes that taught lessons.

In successes, not in failures.

2015 is also the year I gulped faith and pushed down insecurity and wrote a novel–bleeding heart and soul and family onto the pages that are under contract with a publishing house for release in early 2017.

This is the year I rebranded my blog and myself, as a Southern writer of life, and have shifted my focus to where my heart truly lies–in the words of creative non-fiction and fiction that paint portraits of the life I know and cherish.

This is the year I heard God whispering, Ask and you shall receive.

Not a give-me faith of praying for things, but a resolute faith of praying that I can walk with His plans, surrendered and passionate and in constant awe of how and where he can use me. A faith of believing that if God has placed a restlessness within my soul, it might be because He wants to do more with me than I ever imagined possible.

And more might simply be to live and love and give and hope through the measure of another year.

1000 gifts · amelia · gus · http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008/kind#post · madelynne · motherhood · reflections

On Providence and Perspective

April 23, 2013September 30, 2015 Lindsey P. BrackettLeave a comment

Sometimes all we need to get a fresh start is a moment to really look. A moment to watch as babies and lettuce and flowers grow right before our eyes. A moment to remember that providence is in the eye of my perspective.

I’ve been hanging on to the now a bit lately. Not unlike the way Madelynne hangs upside down on our swing set that will soon be finding a new home because they’re too big, it’s too small, and some dear friends are gifting us with theirs when they move.

That move is going to be hard for all of us. It’s in the back of my mind and heart and I don’t want to see the providence in such a moment, even if I know it’s there, somewhere.

So I’ve been soaking in these moments of goodness and grace and watching and waiting. I’ve been reveling in the now of sticky popsicle faces and bursting seeds. I’ve been resting in the thoughts that only a short time ago I wanted nothing more than to be rid of this home and onto bigger and better things, but now? Now I’d love to just stop time and stay here and keep them little and have friends up the hill and a garden that’s growing promises and a perspective that sees the blessings.

1000 gifts · amelia · gus · http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008/kind#post · madelynne · monday · motherhood

When 365 Makes a 180

September 24, 2012 Lindsey P. Brackett1 Comment

One year ago, I was trapped by the daunting realization of motherhood times four.
Today I gave up my early morning sleep to listen to that baby boy squeal all up and down his tenor range while attacking the bumper in his cradle.

One year ago, I forced joy at my daughter’s seventh birthday, and then cried in her daddy’s arms because now I would forever mark the day I first became a mother with the day I realized I didn’t think I could do it again.
Today we’re five days into being eight and a whole year into mothering four (because it all starts at conception) and she’s still the greatest teacher of grace I have.

One year ago, I was overwhelmed by the “I don’t haves” of financially-strapped stay-at-home life.
Today I revel in the moments I’m present for because I’m not heading out our door at breakneck speed to continue a life that gave us less than what we have now.

One year ago, either daddy or I read bedtime stories each night.
Last night, Madelynne read Jesus to him, Annabelle read Hop on Pop (my favorite Dr. Seuss) to anyone who was listening, and Amelia brought me Cat in the Hat to read to her and nursing Gus.

One year ago, I was finding joy in the small, silly moments of life with three daughters.
Now, I’m seeking joy everyday in the random, grace-filled moments of motherhood.

….baby Gus chewing his blankets
….the way his face lights up when I come in the room
….Amelia’s swirly hair that is the envy of all her aunts even when I haven’t brushed it in a couple of days
….Madelynne’s delight in having her own space
….the way Annabelle talks about her teachers, this year Mrs. B is the authority on everything
….trying to teach selflessness and failing and realizing that perhaps the best teacher will be the act itself, so today I’ll be calling the local soup kitchen and setting up to take the big girls to volunteer
….trying to get the Word into their heart and realizing I need to put more of it into my own first
….is it irony that the best view of the pre-dawn sky is out my bathroom window?
….regretting that I was so negative for so much of my pregnancy, but thankful that despite all my shortcomings, being honest and open about that struggle has blessed others whose story is similar
….so much joy in hearing of so many friends who are walking this journey of parenthood right along side us…especially my dear friend who isn’t facing a NICU on this go round but should deliver a healthy full-term baby boy soon!

Linking up with Miscellany Monday and A Holy Experience this morning. Now it’s off to pour some cereal and tag some consignment. Blessings!

1000 gifts · amelia · family · http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008/kind#post · joshua · madelynne · Top 10 Tuesday

Those Perfect Moments

June 12, 2012September 30, 2015 Lindsey P. Brackett3 Comments

When you’re a mom

especially a mom of

rowdy

rambunctious

rough

little girls

and just one sweet tiny boy

it’s easy to get caught up

in the moments that are hard.

I posted that last week

so this week

I thought I’d share that

in life

in motherhood

there are plenty of

perfect moments

fleeting and quick

but if I could just freeze

this time

I would.

one.
Madelynne all curled up in our armchair reading chapter books all by herself ignoring the chaos around her until her baby sis climbs up too.

two.
The noisy baby napping nearby who grunts and sighs and purrs non-stop when I am trying to nap but who curls into my chest and is quiet as can be.

three.
When Amelia wakes up her hair is everywhere all swirls and curls and sweetness.

four.
Just one day when we all got along (mostly) and I reinstated some confidence in myself.

five.
Handfuls of not-quite-ripe blackberries they and their favorite boy friends are picking off the bushes.

six.
Dishwasher humming, dryer thumping, crockpot bubbling, babies all at rest.
and big girls at art camp 🙂

seven.
Long nursing sessions when we’re just both so content.

eight.
Eight little feet that will bring the Good News
we pray.

nine.
Clutching her “star bucks” Annabelle says, “Mommy, did you know the library has a room where you can buy stuff?” The library is our new favorite summer place.