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http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008/kind#post · motherhood · reflections

A Day Worth Remembering

Lindsey P. Brackett1 Comment

It’s warm here in our little house tonight.  A/C went out completely this afternoon after struggling along for a few hours and giving me hope that it might just have been the filter.  Today we had Joshua’s truck engine repaired, and this weekend I had a meltdown about trying to make the grocery budget fit our reality.

It’s life, really.  Messy and complicated and full of mistakes that are only glaringly obvious when looking backward.  But it’s ours.  And sometimes it’s worth bottling up right now and keeping it just like it is.

I’d love to store all these precious little moments somewhere….the way they ate the strawberries as fast as I could cut them this afternoon on the back porch while they were dripping wet from the inflatable pool….when I asked Amelia what she did at VBS today and she said, “Well, we did NOT ride in the bye-bye buggy, but we did dancing with Mrs. Katie”…oh, baby girl, you and your friends are finally getting too big for that buggy and it makes me so sad….how Gus barked “arf, arf!” at the office dog today when we went to pick up Joshua…that Madelynne finally finished a chapter book she read all on her own….how Annabelle has taken to doubling everyone’s names, “Mil-Mil, Ma-Ma, Gus-Gus”….

It’s just random moments.  Everyday mundane, extraordinary only because these moments are so very ordinary.  I remember once telling my husband early in our marriage that I could live everyday reliving our perfect wedding day, and he told me he’d rather live over an ordinary day, a day when we actually were just together.

The older I get, the more I think about that.  How if I had to live just one day over, I’d choose the most ordinary of days, a day when we were just at home, just weeding the garden or playing in the water hose or drinking coffee at that beat-up kitchen table.  A day when naps were taken and pizza was made and the floor was swept a half-dozen times.  A day when I probably got a little exasperated, but got over it quickly enough to enjoy the silliness.  One of those days when there’s an afternoon rainstorm and a family movie and a whole lot of laundry that needs to be folded.

One of those days that’s just pulsing with everyday, ordinary life.  That’s the day I’d bottle right now and keep in my treasure chest of memories because these are the days that matter most.

Those are the days that remind me how passionately I am loved.

http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008/kind#post · reflections · summer

The Balloon Ride

Lindsey P. Brackett1 Comment

My youngest daughter perched herself on the edge of a rock bridge in an old field and dared me with her eyes to say no.  A trickle of a creek, muddy yet sparkling, ran under that tiny bridge and further down other children waded and ran shrieking up the bank.

The evening was summer dusk, warm and humid, but soft and inviting all the same.  Across the field, as if someone had sent a sudden signal, vehicles began to appear with bulk hidden under tarps and strapped to trailers.  Moments later, bright yards of fabric began to unfurl and billow in the slight breeze.  The people pressed closer to watch the spectacle unfurl.

And on a warm summer evening, they used fire to float those balloons.

What was once flat and wrapped tight swelled and soared and colored the sky all around.

She begged for a ride, and when we climbed into that basket and lifted high, all I could think was how it’s the fire that’s made us fly.

http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008/kind#post · motherhood

What We Did on Mother’s Day

Lindsey P. Brackett1 Comment

Mother’s Day was beautiful in the South this year.  After a week of overcast days and gray skies that only seemed to weigh down more heavily on my hurting heart, the glory of this past Sunday was a lift to my soul.  Lately, my mind is never far from unceasing prayers for our friends who are enduring unspeakable grief with grace heaped upon grace….and it is never far from the thought that we have no idea when we lay our babies down at night if we will be gifted with another day to share in their sweet lives.

Motherhood is unimaginably more than we can ever anticipate in both its ups and downs, but this Mother’s Day I wanted to focus less on celebrating myself and more on savoring the four precious reasons I am a mother.  We had planned a trip to Biltmore Estate in Asheville long before we knew it would fall after such an emotional week, and the two days we spent as just the six of us without distractions from our everyday lives were a balm to my soul.

Warning: Picture overload.  For even more sweet pics follow me on instagram @lindsbrac

Happiest of days after Mother’s Day (but isn’t everyday even in its ordinary chaos truly a celebration of motherhood?) to all those who mother in so many different ways, who anticipate motherhood, who are grieving motherhood, who know that we are but guardians of these precious souls.
oh, and watch for another post someday soon about why we love the Biltmore and how you can love it too!

gus · http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008/kind#post · monday · reflections

Monday Catch-Up

Lindsey P. Brackett1 Comment
Joshua finally found a use for all the baby food jars.  Seed starters.  Squash and zucchini and cucumbers.  Except he forgot to label the jars and can’t remember which is which.  
Oh, well.  The girls and I planted these this weekend.  In the rain. He tried to recover from the stomach bug (yeah, that’s still lingering around) and went to a community theater board retreat.
I went to the grocery store with all four (again, in the rain) because I’m evidently an eternal optimist who really believes each time will be better than the last.  Four doughnuts, $75, and one inappropriate response to the lady who thought I was pregnant later, I decided to stop letting my menu plan control my life.
Speaking of menu planning, I’m trying to get an even tighter grasp on our even tighter grocery budget by planning for two weeks worth of meals at a time.  Any tips?  I’ve found endless planners on Pinterest, but I have yet to really be able to make this work for me.  Primarily because I actually like to grocery shop, hence the eternal optimism.  
But I like to cook and I like to plan and so menus work well for us.  I also like to coupon and watch sales cycles and I’m coming around to price matching, and since the grocery store is the ONLY retail therapy I get these days, I’m try to work it to my advantage.
I found this today the moment I clicked into Pinterest for the first time in a couple weeks.  I love it when everything I’m looking for is in one place.

The planning served us well last week when we were busy helping with the annual spring musical at my old school.  For me, right now, the best part of theater is that it’s a family affair.  I helped direct, Joshua set up lights, and the big girls danced in the show.  
It was also Gus’s first birthday last week.  Unfortunately for him, we spent it in dress rehearsal.  But that was probably best.  It’s been a difficult milestone for me to wrap my mind around. 

He’s happy.  He’s beautiful.  He’s a precious gift, a  realization that is all the more foremost in my mind as of late.
Many of us are sharing heavy hearts right now, and right now, I am only finding comfort in the precious words of the Lord.  I will never understand His ways, but I will choose to trust His hand.

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

On Providence and Perspective

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.