Well it is finally snowing here, where we are living. It has been sprinkling unique snowflakes all over this morning and I am enjoying watching them float to the ground. I don't have an abundance of words, in fact I am feeling quite dry where they are concerned so forgive me if this post seems but a meandering list of incoherent thoughts.
I love being barefoot. And yes in the kitchen too. At one point with a baby or two on my hips or in the sling, their favorite place was next to me. I loved every moment of that chaos.
I love romantic ideas. Not just love-romance, authentic romantic ideology. Why, why do I love that so much? Certainly not pragmatic.
I love cottages and old houses. My dream is to renovate or at least live in a home that is at the minimum 100 years old. See, there's that romanticism rearing it's head again.
I love tulips and sunflowers and gerber daisies and wildflowers. I loved last year in Turkey when our maintenance man picked the wild lavender in our yard and had the Things deliver it to me. Sweet.
I love traveling to far away places, whether in my mind or reality. I love dreaming about living abroad again.
I love the smell of my Tyler candle, "high maintenance" filling our home. Divine.
I love quiet and yet I crave the noise of four Things and all their friends and busyness filling this space and my heart. I love neighbors and friends that come in without calling first or open the refrigerator without asking and help themselves. That's real.
I love old photos. Specifically I am loving one that was given to me this past Christmas of my grandparents. And there's this great one of my Dad looking super sporty about 30 some years ago. Love.
I love words. For this year I jumped on the bandwagon, one I read about, and decided to designate a word for the year. One that would set the tone. Guide my actions and decisions daily. A theme. A reminder if you will, of what I was to be intentional about. The particular word I chose was one I begin hearing when I traveled to Honduras last September. Listen.
Six letters. So powerful. Such a challenge for me. Whether it comes to the Things, sometimes even Husband Jared, the people around me, God. I find my mind wandering. Moving on to the next task, looking at what's ahead in place of listening to the here and now. I can mimic a response, dish them out as though I heard every precious word of what was spoken. But no, I really didn't. Because sometimes I'm too worried about getting everything done. Or making sure that the Things have done homework, read, journaled, studied, cleaned, etc., are prepared for the next day's schedule. The list never ends. Then neither does my worry or guilt over whether I really heard them or what they were trying to say without saying it. So I choose to listen this year. The year of 2012. Listen to what's being said. What isn't being said. Not to listen to the world speak. Listen to what is being chosen to be shared with me. The gifts that are waiting to be heard. That's what else I love.