✨It’s so easy to thing we have forever, or a long time at least. Days stretch out in such a way that we are lulled into different paces and places than we’re maybe meant for.
We slow down when we’re meant to speed up- working towards collective, shared dreams. We speed up and rush through some of the good stuff, the quiet moments, the smaller tasks. The mixing of batter, the washing of heads, the taking of breaths.
We will miss certain things more when they’re gone than while they were present- because we traded them for worry in that exact moment that we lived them.
We often do trade important for pertinent, simply because one is more selfish and rude, though not always honest or true. We rush through lazy afternoons and languish through our work day tasks. Oh how backwards we have it sometimes. Or maybe that’s just me.
We do this without really even trying, so don’t feel bad about yourself. I tell myself this, too. I think that’s the whole point. Things lie about their brevity and their importance and we just tend to follow suit, because they’re such good actors. (And they make such good actors out of us.)
If only we can really see it.
How lovely it is as it really is. Our family. Our friendships. This moment. The sunset. The star showers, the star stories, the life stories.
I lingered outside last night under those great big beautiful stars. The ones that only look so small from where I am. I stayed outside, in the middle of the summer star shower, longer than my kids. They headed back inside before i dud, as I stood there craned my neck backwards, trying to find just *one more shooting star*. Two, if I’m being honest. But I couldn’t. I might have been being greedy- for I’d already gotten that “one more” when I asked and they were right there. Bright and streaming with a green tail. Not to mention the one we all witnessed, that was so dazzling and bright, seconds long, and perhaps the best one I’d ever seen.
Star watching on a clear calm night has always been a favorite thing of mine, even though I don’t “get” to do it much now. I used to lay there hours out on the dock, by the lake when I was in my late teens and early twenties, before life took shape. looking for those shooting stars. Things are different now, and I certainly don’t do it as much, and not there anymore, not that dock at least. But I remembered what it was like last night, and I wanted to keep right on looking. Even though it wasn’t by a lake, and life looked so different, I remembered to joy of that quest.
Until I lingered long enough that my daughter stepped outside and walked over to find me. A stream of her blonde hair trailing behind her, I could see it even in the dark. I could find her and her beautiful smile as she sought me. I kid you not, at that exact moment another small shooting star streamed overhead, its own blonde tail right behind it, and just over her head. Two shooting stars. There they were. Two bright, beautiful shooting stars. I got what I hoped for, and more. Plus her brother inside, and my husband. Everything and more, than I could have wished for or hoped for as I lay on that teenage dock of dreams.
I picked her up in my arms and we walked back inside together.
I don’t have to go looking for shooting stars anymore. Not for hours, at least, and not like that. I may still stop to look and linger at times. But those hours spent before are now spent in better ways. Those big, bright beautiful, beating-heart stars are right here. Yes, they’re right here.
Under the roof of our humble home, our blessed lives, and we’re all much bigger than we know. Bigger than we appear sometimes, too. Especially from far away. So I come close, I step inside, under the miracle of the showers of shooting stars happening right under my roof.
I breathe it in. We are all, home, here, together.
This truth fills me with a warm glowing ember of this ‘present’.
In my thoughts, as well as my heart. There is also a knowing even, that we might be able to find more adventures together, maybe even some shooting stars, too. Together, in the future.
That bright, beautiful future- that’s streaming past our eyes, a shower of stars from Heaven above. ❤️
I’ve learned to hold holidays and traditions lightly.
I think sometimes that it’s one of the best, and hardest things that I’ve learned as a parent and spouse. Not every celebration or yearly holiday has to have to same set of situations, the same series of events, the same special set of checklists. Now don’t get me wrong, I love those great treasures of “we always..” immensely. They can be so lovely, and valuable. But if you’re not careful they can quickly become life suffocating. The very thing meant to hold you together, or so you’re lead to believe, becomes the thing that can tie you all up in knots.
For the last two fourths of July it seemed we may have found “our thing.” A race, a parade, a visit to a lake. All the things you might love. But none have been repeated, even though we had high hopes for this year. Life just doesn’t always fit in the neat little boxes we try to shove it into, not without something breaking that is.
So we kept an open hand, there was give and take, and a lot of space to fill in the blanks and color -without lines but with lots of grace. Without further mention, and with no real planning, I’ll tell you how it went.
We made red white and blue pancakes at home, bursting with blueberries and raspberries (unless you’re the one who doesn’t like that kind, and for you it was just white.)
We cut open that watermelon we had been saving, and ate it for lunch. Even as I started to unwrap it, I wondered if it should be for dinner instead. But the juice was too sweet and the pieces too red and perfect to wait now.
We made a few pizzas, and pasta, and salad and cut up peppers and ate outside under the awning. The temperature had cooled just enough, there was a breeze and we were able to relax and smile enough to not melt.
There was a very hot run earlier, and I haven’t sweated so much in years. The kind where once you stop, your whole body doesn’t quite know it yet, and before you know it, you’re as wet as if you ran through the hose. Speaking of, I wondered if we’d do that later.
We went for a nice big bike ride through some neighborhoods, the kids side by side and matched pound for pound, trying to make sure no one got ahead of the other. We talked about stopping home to grab a bag of sunscreen and towels, put on our suits, and ride to the pool club for a swim. “That’s a great idea,” declared my son.
We got home and daddy had cooked up a different plan , but we were all in. The drive -in movies, for what would be the first time. We loaded up blankets and swuishamellows and some pillows, and we petted the doggie goodbye and set off. We planned for burgers on the way and maybe even a milkshake . It was all of those things- plus juke boxes and fifties and 60s tunes, messy hands from too many condiments (so me), and thick milkshakes. Then a longish, silly wait for the drive in to open up, front row seats, snd a rather relaxed round (and a half) of mini golf. We played catch in the grass with new friends while the sun set and the fireflies came out to warm things up.
The movie was good, and the company better. My son was so relaxed and steed in his element it seemed, with a giant bowl of popcorn. My daughter sighed, “this is SO much fun.”
As we drove home so late, we parents saw some fireworks right next to the road as we passed at the exact time. I tied to take a picture to show the kids but it happened too fast and then it was finished. We carried our kids off to bed, and I thought of how they were snuggled in so close, next to me during the movie. And someday I will long for that nearness, so easy and free. I will long for bikes rides where we dream up plans, only to come home and change them. And I’ll love how the watermelon never tasted so sweet or went to waste, not then, because there were eager hands set for helping. I’ll remember how long I spent trying to get the swimming knots out of hair, or the smell of bug spray as I sprayed multiple sets of legs and arms and necks that were not only me. I’ll remember walking behind them, as the each were holding daddy’s hands, a bounce in their step and total anticipation, even though the mini golf doesnt look so great to grown up eyes. I’ll smile anyway. I’ll remember that view, so well. The one that came from being a few steps behind, not ahead. From grabbing that bottle of bug spray that I was so glad I had, even though I hadn’t planned ahead to need. Even though I wouldn’t want to need it, it sure was nice to have. The opportunity and the spray. Because all of the best adventures come with a few stickier or trickier bits. And finding a work around for those things takes time, but it’s worth it.
And that view is everything.
Yeah, I’ve just had to learn that these plans can’t all be mine or go according to however I think they should go. There’s a million ways they might flip or flop, and I’m really just here for this view.
Walking together, with love.
I hustle to catch up with them, after taking a picture of course, and I think, not all things can or should be planned.
Not by me at least. I gave up my checklists and must-haves a long time ago. They’re right here walking around with me. With us.
That whole “Head down, planning everything” thing can be very tiring. And I much prefer this view. Front loading some efforts, but really, I’m just Along for the ride.
Not comparing what’s going on with my notes of “meant to” or what it’s “supposed to look like.”
Checking off those boxes doesn’t mean you’re actually checking out or enjoying the views. Isn’t that what’s most important anyway? You might end up seeing some you never expected, but will always treasure too.
Can we just talk about that word for a minute? I’m sure it’s been talked about ad nauseam in some places, but I actually haven’t seen a real, honest conversation about it.
Home maker is a words that’s been extremely overused and also, completely undersold. Overused in the sense that it’s become a bit of a diss, or a dishonor to a certain segment of the population. While some wear it as a badge of pride as an honor, some others consider it a downgrade from their biggest hopes and dreams.
While truthfully, it’s fundamental to society. It’s a non negotiable. But maybe not like you think?
I mean, we’re all homemakers aren’t we? Homemakers or home-wreckers really. We all build our homes, a little at a time.
Home making much less to do with keeping house, in my mind, than it does with making a house a home- and someplace worth coming home to.
I consider myself a homemaker. I did before I had kids, when I worked full time, when I had kids and continued to work and even now as I work part time from home and full time managing those wonderful kids and many household tasks.
I also can look at other women around me and see that, even if they do it very differently than me, they are too. Full time working moms are homemakers. Part time working moms. Non moms. People, we are making a home where we are. Or are we?
(I’m considering as I write this whether to look up the definition of homemaker. But I fear it may be outdated or incorrect anyway. So I’m going to look around me first and see what being a homemaker looks like.)
My mom was a homemaker, even though she found herself a single mom and had to go work outside of the home. My mother-in-law was too, as she raised five boys, made the finest pies and kept the cleanest house. None of the details and tasks take away from the real truth of what each of them did. They both created a home out of love and time and the resources they had. They both made a home. (My mom also is an excellent pie baker, might I add. Even if I found out as an adult, making my first pie crust, that she didn’t make hers homemade like I thought. She does now though. Still, we all love.)
While I’m a pretty good pie maker myself, I’m definitely not perfect, and I don’t keep things quite as spit spot as someone else maybe can. Maybe I’m better at certain things, or a bit cleaner than another, but that none of that defines me as a home maker of not. It doesn’t really define any of us or our home making powers as much as we think it does.
The aptitude with which we approach some the finer details or tangibles of our home making don’t take away from the over- arching ones we do, and their deep importance. We are all making a house a home, and a family out of the people who live there. Chances are we are doing the very best we can manage today. Even on the less stellar days, we’re making a house a home. We’re building a life.
While it may include many menial and more laborious tasks, those aren’t the whole of it. What we do as humans living together and parents in a home goes beyond the housework, and it extends to heart of the work. To the people we “manage”, to the life skills we help build, to being the counselors, and pastors and true care takes. Perhaps one of the most important parts of our job as home makers is being a tone-setter. By deciding what’s most important, what’s worth arguing about or not, what we talk about, focus on and work for or towards together. We don’t always chose the direction especially as people get older and kids have things to decide for themselves, but we always do set the tone, choose what’s most important. Homemakers build a life based off our core values- realized or unrealized.
While I don’t want to make it a genderless word, or take it from any mother who loves to use it, I do want us to reconsider what it is, what it means, and what each of our parts is.
We all build things. Or wreck them, as noted already.
We are building a home with every thought, action, inaction, interaction and exchange. Every task, from taking out the garbage to scrubbing stains out of clothes has a purpose behind it. This happens in the middle of the day, or late at night. You build up your home, you make it one. Whether you work in the home, outside the home, or you don’t work for a money anywhere. It’s what you are as a person, adding to the places where you exist. Let alone as parent in your home, as a mom with your husband and kids, or a husband with his family.
Together we make it a home. We build. Brick by brick, day by day, thought by thought, act upon act.
Every interaction we have brings meaning with it. So we do. Every conversation, every day at work. Every buttered piece of bread, every towel that’s folded, every school drop off, every prayer and every hug.
It’s also in the neglected baseboards because you were too busy doing other things (usually with or for your people.) It’s in the hiring of help to clean those baseboards because of the same reasons. It’s in the stickers on your back seat window (that you swore you’d never allow.) It’s in the cracker crumbs at the bottom of your purse or on the seats or in your bed. It’s in the flowers picked, just for you, that you display so proudly. It’s in the practices and the games and the late night snacks and soccer uniforms and the plays on stage. The claps, the tears, the cries.
It’s in everything. We are home makers when we build a life with the people we love. When we make something that can’t always been seen, but can so very much be felt.
Mothers, fathers, parents. We make a house a home, together.
We work. We build. We care.
It might as well be with love.
For if we don’t, we unravel the work of others, on different days, little by little, day by day, piece by piece. We don’t want to, but we’ll have to do that work a bit or all over again. But don’t worry, you just keep going, you keep building with love. Love alway makes things work, even if you don’t see the results right away. It always makes it work- that is, if you do the work, too.
So just keep right on doing that.
Yes, we build, we care. We make it a home, with Love.
If we go through seasons where keeping up like we think or we need to is hard, don’t worry too much. The messes wait- seen or unseen. We’ll get to them when we’re able.
But those people don’t always wait, so neither should you. They’re what makes a house a home anyway. “Those people”, that includes you. So make sure you treat them each with care. For making a house a home takes an awful lot of that.
We’re built for it. So build it, make it, all with Love.
In January it can feel so slow In June, we wonder- where did it all go? September is when we keep track of time In July it felt like you were all mine. Oh baby girl, don’t you dare grow up.
Oh sweet son of ours, Don’t you know my heart skips a beat when you climb all those trees And you scrape both your knees. When you climb on my back, It helps get my mind back on track That this time, it keeps slipping away. Oh dear son, don’t you dare grown up.
You’ll be a strong man you’ll be kind and true Just like you showed us, Or did we teach you? Sweet girl you’re a lady, you’ll be even more grown. But we hope that forever Our love, Our hugs, will feel like home.
Go ahead and grown up but don’t grow out Don’t grow out of this love
Because you both feel home. Yes you two are home to us.
Each year seems to pick up the pace. While it’s easy to get lost in this space. You two are home to us. Yes you both are home to us.
Sometimes we have to pick up the pace Sometimes it feels like we’re running in place Sometimes you want it to be less like a race, Just a casual stroll, me and you. Just a casual stroll, us and you two.
As each year rolls by, I see how it flies. Oh time, why don’t you slow down?
Go ahead and grow up. But don’t you dare grow out, Don’t you dare grow out of this love.
I woke around 4:30am, and started my usual morning routine. Pouring the coffee. Splashing my face with cold water, washing and waking up. Then it’s on to my prayer spot, a chair where I sit to read, listen, pray, write.
This morning I decided to get a few of the morning’s tasks ready too. With the phone’s flashlight in my one hand, I got the water bottles out of the dishwasher and the cupboard and started filling them with fresh cool water from the fridge. I prefer that one because it at least has some kind of filter, which is presumably catching some impurities.
As I filled them this morning, one of the cups I hadn’t rinsed well enough and it bubbled with extra dish soap. That made me chuckle, there are worse things. But I had to rinse and try again.
The next water bottle didn’t bubble up. But as the flashlight caught it, I saw a film of impurities circling along the top. Not big soapy bubbles. Not tiny moving air bubbles. A film, that would be all but undetected in the morning or daylight.
But here in the dark, under the flashlight, I could see it.
How long had it been this way, I don’t know. It’s a newer water bottle. Perhaps it’s some chemicals leftover from production? Maybe it’s from the dishwasher, a residue from the harsh cleaning agents that are used there? I don’t know. It made me shudder, and physically that’s a whole other discussion.
But spiritually, that’s a good one too.
I thought isn’t this just what I’m doing? Here in the morning, in the dark, with only my flashlight on. I’m coming to sit and to be filled up with fresh water.
I am not looking for impurities, but they rise to the top, too, before daylight and responsibilities flood in. Before I care to try to look for them. Before I’ll be poured out as a drink for anyone else- my family, friends, anyone.
There’s a God who cares enough about me that He not only fills me to overflowing, He washes away the gunk too while He fills me. He wants my water to be fresh too.
I am not trying to look for things with my flashlight. I am not trying to fix myself. It’s not something I can really do.
It’s only His love that fixes and fills me. And as I sit, to be filled, I will be, washed. Filled with Love.
So I will not stare at the residue, I will not be overwhelmed, I will not hold on to it. I will not even need to figure out where it all came from. I might decide what to be careful of next time. But that isn’t the whole point here. Not now.
I will let Him pour His life giving Love into me, through me, and the let the water of His Holy Spirit wash me.
I will let go of the impurities. I will let Him refresh me again and again.
Until He washes -and keep washing-away all of the sediment and other “cleaning products” that clearly don’t make me clean. I will let Him fill me to overflowing. And I will keep coming back for more.
I will never not be thirsty, but I won’t let myself stay that way. Because I will let myself be filled.
In John 14, Jesus replied, “If you only knew the gift God has for you and who you are speaking to, you would ask me, and I would give you living water.”
“But sir, you don’t have a rope or a bucket,” she said, “and this well is very deep. Where would you get this living water?” Jesus said to her, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, But those who drink the water I give will never be thirsty again. It becomes a fresh, bubbling spring within them, giving them eternal life.”
Hey, I'm Courtney, a pretty ordinary girl who thinks we've all been called to an extraordinary life and love story with God. I'm passionate about family, faith, motherhood, and the adventure of every day. I write lots of words, mostly because I can’t help it- and I think it's one of the things I was born to do. I hope that something I write encourages you, to walk in your own unique purpose and calling, set free to love and give it away, starting wherever you are today. That's what Courting the Extraordinary is all about. Finding the good all around you, and giving it away. Finding, too, the God of all goodness who wants to walk with you.
I love quiet mornings, coffee, prayer and “work” before sunrise. Quality time with my family is my jam. I can be found grinning ear to ear when we're out on an adventure. Whether that's in our own backyard or exploring someplace new all-together, I’ll for sure note something beautiful about nature aloud-and maybe repeatedly, ha!. Life is a beautiful, precious gift, and an adventurous path to travel! We might as well learn how to love.
Hey, I'm Courtney, a pretty ordinary girl who thinks we've all been called to an extraordinary life and love story with God. I'm passionate about family, faith, motherhood, and the adventure of every day. I write lots of words, mostly because I can’t help it- and I think it's one of the things I was born to do. I hope that something I write encourages you, to walk in your own unique purpose and calling, set free to love and give it away, starting wherever you are today. That's what Courting the Extraordinary is all about. Finding the good all around you, and giving it away. Finding, too, the God of all goodness who wants to walk with you.
I love quiet mornings, coffee, prayer and “work” before sunrise. Quality time with my family is my jam. I can be found grinning ear to ear when we're out on an adventure. Whether that's in our own backyard or exploring someplace new all-together, I’ll for sure note something beautiful about nature aloud-and maybe repeatedly, ha!. Life is a beautiful, precious gift, and an adventurous path to travel! We might as well learn how to love. 