All the Time in the World

A Blessing For One Who Is Exhausted

by John O'Donohue

When the rhythm of the heart becomes hectic,
Time takes on the strain until it breaks;
Then all the unattended stress falls in
On the mind like an endless, increasing weight,

The light in the mind becomes dim.
Things you could take in your stride before
Now become laborsome events of will.

Weariness invades your spirit.
Gravity begins falling inside you,
Dragging down every bone.

The tide you never valued has gone out.
And you are marooned on unsure ground.
Something within you has closed down;
And you cannot push yourself back to life.

You have been forced to enter empty time.
The desire that drove you has relinquished.
There is nothing else to do now but rest
And patiently learn to receive the self
You have forsaken for the race of days.

At first your thinking will darken
And sadness take over like listless weather.
The flow of unwept tears will frighten you.

You have traveled too fast over false ground;
Now your soul has come to take you back.

Take refuge in your senses, open up
To all the small miracles you rushed through.

Become inclined to watch the way of rain
When it falls slow and free.

Imitate the habit of twilight,
Taking time to open the well of color
That fostered the brightness of day.

Draw alongside the silence of stone
Until its calmness can claim you.
Be excessively gentle with yourself.

Stay clear of those vexed in spirit.
Learn to linger around someone of ease
Who feels they have all the time in the world.

Gradually, you will return to yourself,
Having learned a new respect for your heart
And the joy that dwells far within slow time.

-John O'Donohue

1 Second...Every Couple of Days

Once upon a time, not very long ago at all, I didn't have an iPhone or any kind of smart phone. And still I fell in love with the 1SecondEveryday app when it was a Kickstarter project. This little app embodies so much of what I love---snapshots of everyday, memory-keeping and EASY.

In July 2014 I FINALLY got a smart phone, because we were moving and I needed Siri in a very real way. The power of being able to ask, "Directions home"  in a new town cannot be underestimated. 

It wasn't until I saw Elise Cripe's first 7-second video on Instagram that I remembered that Kickstarter idea I had loved. So I started 11 days into 2016, and there have been some weeks when I capture only one or two seconds. I let go of perfection and embraced capturing what I can. And I love it.

Golden Seconds from 2016 Part 1 from Deirdre Keating on Vimeo.

Around Here

Sean turned 10, closing out the spring birthday season around here. I love that crazy expression above. I had hidden the Wii game in with a shirt, and it was the last gift he opened. He is a sticker (like his dad) for manners and didn’t express his disappointment, but when he finally found the game, he was ecstatic. He’s been working on his literary scrapbook of Tom Sawyer. He wanted The Hobbit, but someone else got it first. No worries, though, because he will get enough Hobbit this summer---he’s in a play production of the novel this August. Honestly, I would be lost without Sean. He is an incredible helper, especially with his little brother. Reading, drawing, listening to music, playing soccer, and arguing about obscure details are still his favorite things.  

Aidan grew another foot, or so it seems. He’s past me and gaining on Brian. He somehow managed to wear us down, and introduced his brothers to the legends of Zelda. He finished his science experiment on how food digests (pretty grossly, imo) and is counting down the days until school is finished. He went on a weekend retreat with our church youth group, and has spent many hours this spring bent over the drafting table in his room drawing. He passed his first Tae Kwon Do test last month too. He got out of school early one day, so I picked him up and brought him back to my work. He read at the Starbucks in the building. I tried to imagine being his age and sitting at a campus coffee shop. I hope it had a fraction of the impact it would’ve have had for me at age 13. Lately he says he wants to live in London when he’s older—partly because he thinks his British accent is so good.

Nolan wrote the above book, with my favorite part being his “About the author” page on the very back. He turned seven in March, which I think was very inconsiderate. He is our baby, and in some ways is so grown up now and in others, the same sweet little boy. He’s learning to be more assertive on the soccer field, and he has two best friends, Will and Annabelle. When my sister came to visit last month, he and his cousin Henry declared each other “best buddies” and played LEGOs nonstop, and somehow managed to sleep in the same bed. He’s a reader now, and I’m just as surprised at how it seemed to happen overnight as I was with his brothers. He’s dying to start the 5th Harry Potter book, but I’m holding off for as long as he’ll let me. He’s already growing up too fast!

We have made the big transition---to a new state, new town, and new jobs. To be honest, at 45, it’s been exhausting. I feel guilty complaining because we have been so lucky every step of the way. Unexpected gifts everywhere---our house sold within weeks of being on the market. We found a furnished rental in Golden, which is almost unheard of, and in the heart of our little downtown, which was incredibly fun.

We had an amazing, patient realtor (I’m linking to her here, in case you too are looking for a home in the Denver area; she’s that good). We found a house with a real backyard (also slightly unheard of around here), near good schools and with less than 15 minutes commute to either of our jobs. Great neighbors---including teenage twin girls who became our afterschool babysitters as well.

And I got a job, doing things I love like learning, writing, and capturing things with my camera.

And yet, I still complain because none of it has been easy. At least once a month we each have a “We’ve made a big mistake!” moment in which we question every decision of the past year and wish we were back in Moab. Luckily, they’ve never overlapped or we might have packed up and gone back.

Transitioning from free-lance to full-time has been the hardest change for me. That’s a topic for another post. Brian has been amazing, of course. He’s taken on more than his share of the chauffeuring, and took all three boys to their dentists appointments and well-child visits this spring. I’m grateful for that, but it stings a bit too.

Brian has had to travel quite a bit more for this new job, and fire season is starting (I may be the only person thrilled by all the recent rain, secretly hoping it means fewer fires). He continues working on the house, painting trim and closets, and hanging frames.

The hanging of frames, like these in our entry, are the real signal to me that this place is becoming our home.

 

letters to our sons | september 2014

One of the reasons I created a blog was to capture this time when my sons are young. So I’m excited to join a group of friends as we share about the boys in our lives on the third Friday of each month. You can follow our blog circle to Jacqui’s letter to her adorable boy, and continue all the way through the blog circle.

All of these photos were taken on my iPhone, because that’s just how we roll these days…I love them not for the quality of light or composition, but for the bit of our story they capture.

Dear Aidan,

Can I just say, for the record, how in awe I am of how you have handled all the changes of the past few months? We all found it difficult to leave Moab, but you most of all. At first you were adamant that you weren’t going to move. I’m so grateful that, as upset as you were, you were able to articulate so well how you felt, what you thought, and share that with your dad and me. When we came back from our house-hunting trip, you said to me, “I feel like two people, because during the day I get excited about the move and a new house, and then at night I just get sad again.” I felt the same way, but you put it in words so well.

At the same, you started the whole new world of middle school, ie: locker combinations, six different teachers, a schedule and lots more to master. You’re up every morning at 6 AM for your shower, followed by a hot cup of tea and bacon with toast. You’re getting the habit of using the daily planner to remember homework. You’re home a good hour before brothers---and I so enjoy that time to talk with you, to hear not so much about your day but usually about your next idea, a funny story you read, or big plans you have.

I was trying to think what helped you make all these transitions so well. One big blessing, for all of us, has been having so much time with our favorite people during our first month in a new place. We’d had fun with my old friend Kris and her kids who live nearby, and your beloved Gramare came to stay with us. Your favorite uncle met us in San Francisco, and we actually got to share a house with the Rockows for a few days in Point Reyes. Your godmother Angie always lights up for you, and  Mary Alice, just days after we all celebrated her wedding, gave us a personal tour of what you now like to refer to as your “future place of employment,” Pixar.

I think it’s helped that Golden is such a beautiful place, that you’ve had our dog Duke along for the whole ride, that the library is just down the street from our rental, that you have your own room for the very first time, and that you’ve had your own goals to work toward (first: to save for your own iMac; second: to convince your parents to let you watch “Terminator”).

Mostly though, I think it comes down to you. You’ve chosen to have a positive attitude, and to focus on the good things. You’ve risen to new responsibilities and freedoms. You’ve been a big help to me personally, whether it be walking Duke or carrying a vacuum up three floors! You look out for your brothers, and they look out for you. The other day we brought cookies to our local fire station, continuing a tradition we had for years in Moab. We weren’t expecting to spend more than a minute saying thanks, but the volunteer fire fighter delighted in showing us their trucks and station. I know you felt you were too old for the tour, but you rose to the occasion. While your brothers were shy and silent, you listened intently and told him how cool you thought his work was. That generosity of spirit is what I appreciate most about you, Aidan.

As we were leaving, the fire fighter asked what you thought of Golden. “It’s awesome,” you replied. Then he asked, “Better than where you came from?” And you said, “I wouldn’t go that far.”

You’ve already come so far, and I’m grateful.

More than all the stars,

Mom

 

 

Easy Memory-Keeping via Facebook Screenshots

The above image is from my favorite photo app Collect, another tool for easy memory keeping.

Are you ready for the laziest blog post easiest memory-keeping ever?

To say this summer has been a whirlwind is an understatement.

During one of the busiest weeks, my friend Lara challenged me to share three gratitudes for five days on Facebook. I’m so grateful to her for the challenge, because it helped give me perspective each day and realize how much I had to be grateful for (it was often hard to just pick three!).

And now I have those posts as a bit of memory-keeping of a time that will soon be a blur. Even with its timeline, I find Facebook difficult to refer back to and just never do, whereas I love revisiting old post here. So I’m going to repost that challenge here---just so I’ll be able to find it again!

The challenge started the day after our See-You-Soon party, but more than anything we are grateful for good friends and the wonderful send off we felt.

 

 

letters to our sons | july 2014

One of the reasons I created a blog was to capture this time when my sons are young. So I’m excited to join a group of friends, moms, and fellow photographers as we share about the boys in our lives on the third Friday of each month. You can follow our blog circle to Lori Reed Asher of Dreamers Come In next, and continue all the way back here.

Almost all of these photos were taken on our iPad, because that’s just how we roll these days…I love them not for the quality of light or composition, but for the bit of our story they capture.

Dear Sean,

These are not easy days. Good days, but not easy days. I know you tire of hearing me say, “We can do hard things.” I say it as much for myself as for you.

We are moving. Whenever I write these letters, I imagine you older, reading them perhaps after I’m gone. I wonder what your perspective on this big change will be in 30 years or so. Will all your memories of Moab be romanticized with nostalgia? Will you remember the layout of this house? Will you declare our move “the best thing that ever happened” or will you regret ever leaving?

You are a happy guy. Like your mama, you are a sucker for a sad story, even a tad melodramatic, but you also love to laugh and make others laugh. Aidan challenged you to keep a straight face for the photo below---but three seconds was your limit.

When we told you about your dad’s new job and the move, the first thing you asked was whether we would return once a month for your radio show. Obviously this was influenced by the fact that we had just returned home for your gig, but I still thought it endearing.

When I asked what worries you had about the move, you replied that you make friends easily. I couldn’t understand, although I agreed that you do make friends oh so easily (my friend Kris recently joked that when she took you and your brothers to their neighborhood pool, they had to wait when leaving for you to say goodbye to all your new friends). “Why does making friends easily worry you?” I asked.

“Because I’ll make them quickly and won’t know which ones are real friends,” you replied, with concern in your voice. Sean, the fact that you know at age 9 that there is a difference between real friends and quick friends means you’re already wiser than most.

Mother Teresa said, “If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.” (A line I first read at Momastery, and also my source for the mantra: We Can Do Hard Things).

Your dad and I have spent countless hours and conversations pondering whether this move is the right decision. Ultimately, I believe it will be up to each of us to make it the right decision. On our drive back from Flagstaff last week, after a much needed respite with your god-cousins, we were discussing the move and I was trying to explain this idea. I could barely hear you from the far back seat, your “bachelor pad” as we call it. You were quoting the little collage in our front entry way---the same frame I’ve been criticizing myself for not having updated in four years.

“Home is wherever we are together!” you proclaimed.

Right you are, my middlest. We’re moving, but we’re taking our home with us, so long as we never forget that we belong to each other.

More than all the stars,

Mom

You can follow our blog circle to Lori Reed Asher of Dreamers Come In for the next letter to our sons, and continue all the way through the blog circle.

letters to our sons | april 2014

One of the reasons I created a blog was to capture this time when my sons are young. So I’m excited to join a group of friends, moms, and fellow photographers as we share about the boys in our lives on the third Friday of each month. You can follow our blog circle to Brandi Picou of Brandi Picou Photography next, and continue all the way back here.

All of these photos were taken on our iPad, because that’s just how we roll these days…I love them not for the quality of light or composition, but for the bit of our story they capture.

Dear Nolan,

You went to bed one night last month as a five year old, and woke up the next day a six year old. I am still attempting to wrap my brain around that fact.

You knew exactly what you wanted for every aspect of your birthday party: a puppy theme, and a dog park cake. You had as much fun preparing for it as you did at the actual party.

It’s been a busy spring for you. Lots of birthday celebrations (your big bro, your grandad, yourself), St. Patrick’s Day and more. You’ve been preparing all month for the kindergarten opera version of Rapunzel. I’ve loved listening to you practice your lines (that you wrote yourself!): “I’m the tiger. The witch captured me in Africa and brought me here. I’m friends with Rapunzel.”

I happened to see you practice last week, and it made my heart hurt with joy and pride as I watched you so seriously moving stage props and making sure to be on cue. You love to laugh and be silly, but you also take your responsibilities so seriously. That’s a great combination to have, Nolie.

You were the main line of defense for the Sparkle Robot Lizards and loved having your dad as your coach. I think I missed all but one of your goals, as Sean was usually playing at the same time, but I got to have you fill me with your exuberant enthusiasm that we all adore. How I loved watching you race down the field! As much as I prefer baseball to soccer, I think you’ll find t-ball a bore after all the soccer action. Perhaps we’ll wait until t-ball becomes real baseball.

So much of your excitement about turning six centered around these two big-brother obsessions: Star Wars and Harry Potter. You’ve been impatiently waiting to watch the first (even if Aidan would correct me and call it the 4th episode) Star Wars movie: A New Hope. I’ve held you off as long as I could, but now you and I have begun the journey to Hogwarts together. I love snuggling with you at night and revisiting these characters, and remembering when your brothers first met them as well.

Just as I can’t wrap my brain around you being six, I am still in shock when I hear you reading. I shouldn’t be surprised, given your big brothers and their books and your smarts, but it is such a leap. You entered kindergarten knowing your alphabet sounds and a few sight words, and now I can’t even keep up with all that you know. I love hearing you read the books you bring home from school.

I know how very lucky I am to be your mom. I won’t go so far as saying you love me more than ice cream---but I think it’s close!

More than all the stars,

Mom

You can follow our blog circle to Brandi Picou of Brandi Picou Photography for the next letter to our sons, and continue all the way through the blog circle.

letters to our sons | January 2014

I have great intentions, but without deadlines most of those don’t come to fruition. One of the reasons I created a blog was to capture this time when my sons are young. So I’m excited to join a group of friends, moms, and fellow photographers as we share about the boys in our lives on the third Friday of each month. We will be writing a letter to our sons each month. You can follow our blog circle to Leslie Norgren  of Loving What We Live Photography next, and continue all the way back here.

Dear Aidan, Sean, and Nolan,

Thanks for making Christmas and New Year’s and every holiday and every ordinary day a gift. No one exhausts me, infuriates me, or delights me as much as you three. You’ve seen the worst of me, and the best of me. Your smiling faces, your crazy stories, your hilarious asides, your enthusiasm and affection are all the best part of my day.

Inspired by Ali Edwards’ post, here are 10 things about all three of you right now.

1. You are on the cusp of turning 12, 9, and 6, and already making big plans (and attempts at negotiations) based on your new number.

Aidan, you tell your Dad and me that 12 is when you should finally be allowed to watch “Jaws” and “The Terminator.” My response: Jaws, maybe…Terminator, not yet.

Sean, you tell me 9 is when your bedtime should finally be extended to 8 PM. My response: you’re right. We probably should have done that a while ago but it’s been nice having you so close to Nolie’s bedtime.

Nolan, you assure us that 6 is when you should be able to see “Star Wars: A New Hope” and be allowed to play Minecraft outside of creative-mode. We’ll prepare a Star Wars celebration this summer, but Minecraft is staying on creative-mode for a good, long while.

2. For breakfast you like a bowl filled to the brim with as many as three different types of cereal all at the same time (Aidan), toast with peanut butter (Nolan), and everything that anyone else is having (Sean). Sean, you’re the only thirsty one in the morning, and I appreciate that you actually finish your juice.

No matter how much you eat at breakfast, you all still take apples and granola bars “for that long walk to the bus” one block away!

3. Aidan has basketball three nights a week, Sean has one practice and one or two games a week. We love watching you both running back and forth across the court. Such great exercise, such great teams. However, I’m really looking forward to the season being over and not planning dinner around how little time we have to sit down together.

4. Nolan, hang in there. Spring soccer starts in less than three weeks. And your dad is coaching!

5. Today is parent-teacher conferences. We’re already planning a celebratory dinner at the Diner (before Sean’s game tonight). Aidan, you have straight A’s except for math. We’re sure you’d have an A in there too, if you just remembered to actually turn in the homework assignments after you’ve spent a good part of the evening on them. Yesterday you came home beaming with a medal around your neck, declaring yourself Spelling Bee Champ:

You didn’t even tell us you had signed up in December, and were a bit too proud of the fact that you “didn’t even study.” I’m happy for you, dude. We know you’re a good speller, but you know I’d love to see you study and work hard for something and get a medal for that.

Sean, if your teacher ends this conference suggesting that you will someday rule the world, I’m gonna cut him off. We’ve learned from past experiences!

Nolan, your big news from school these days is who is sitting at your table now and then going on to describe the entire class’ seating arrangement. I love when you bring songs or stories from your classroom into our family.

6. All three of you refuse to eat the hot lunch at school and instead take a packed lunch every day. But Nolie has reported that he’d like to have the dessert he’s seen the “hotlunchkids” having, specifically that cinnamon roll. So we’re keeping our eyes on the menu calendar for its next appearance.

7. A couple weeks ago Sean found Aidan’s glasses in a drawer of LEGOs. Last week Nolan found them on a pile of snow three houses down (apparently lost while running with Duke). Yesterday your dad found them under our bed. We are all getting a little too much practice at finding your glasses, Aidan.

8. Even though the Comic Creators club is for grades 4-6, all three of you are participating and even Nolan is intent on submitting a final draft for the anthology. Love how you cheer each other on and share your creations with each other.

9. I took all three of you to the pool last Friday. I’m mentioning it in case you forget. The pool, in January, where it’s humid and loud and very far from my list of favorite places to be in January. You’re welcome.

10. I came home from the pool feeling sick, and finally had to admit I had the flu. You three were the best helpers a mom could ask for, even though I was breaking rule #1: Mom is not allowed to get sick. Aidan, you asked if you could make me a cup of tea, and it was easily the best cup I’ve ever had. Sean, you told me stories (the best cure for anything) and brought me Penny Guinny to hold. Nolan, every day you’d say, “How ‘bout we snuggle?” and since I’m pretty sure you already had this very bug, I was more than happy to snuggle up with you. Some days you said, “How ‘bout we snuggle and learn Spanish?” (i.e. play a Spanish app on the iPad). You’ve left every morning excited with your plan to say, “Adios, Amigo” to your pal Jose at the end of the day, and so far, you come home every day and slap your forehead saying, “I forgot again!”

That’s a small glimpse of what is happening around here right now. Things are always changing, but one thing remains constant: I’m so very glad I get to be your mom.

More than all the stars,

Mom

letters to our sons | December 2013

I have great intentions, but without deadlines most of those don’t come to fruition. One of the reasons I created a blog was to capture this time when my sons are young. So I’m excited to join a group of friends, moms, and fellow photographers as we share about the boys in our lives on the third Friday of each month. We will be writing a letter to our sons each month. You can follow our blog circle to Leslie Norgren  of Loving What We Live Photography next, and continue all the way back here.

Dear Nolan,

Just typing your name makes me smile. That’s you, above, in a passport photo at age 5 1/2. Hilarious. Happy. Alive. Full of enthusiasm and so full of love. That’s how I’d describe you.

I take a little pride in not having a favorite child, but five is definitely one of my favorite ages. Still unabashedly affectionate, and able to share all your ideas and stories, you delight me.

 

You recently carried a stack of board books to the couch, announcing that you were going to “reread all my favorites---from when I was little.” I’m including a 40-second video of you reading Brown Bear, because this is my blog and I can get away with it here.

I still think of you as little, but your body is growing. You’ve lost that Buddha belly I so loved. You started kindergarten this year, and you love it, despite the occasional complaint that you have to go “tomorrow, again?”

One of the highlights of my day is walking down to the bus stop with Duke to greet you. I love that you are home an hour earlier than your brothers and that we still have a little “mommy and me time” as you call it. I love that you are already mid-sentence, telling me the big news from Ms. Sheila’s class, before you finish stepping off the bus. I love that your coat is half on and half your backpack unpacked, even though I complain about both every time.

You say “thank you” more than anyone else I know. I still remember when you weren’t yet talking (and you had us slightly worried you know, waiting until you were well past two to start), and you walked up to your dad, signing “thank you” and gesturing at the balloon you’d been playing with for days. When you learn I’m making pasta for dinner, you run to hug me and always say, “Thanks, Mom. You’re the best.” And I know you’re mostly relieved it isn’t the stew or soup you dread, but I soak it in all the same.

Photo taken by my mother-in-law, on my point & shoot, with flash, at the Walnut Room; i.e.: the best camera is the one you have with you!

You will forever be the great surprise of my life. We had just driven all our baby hand-me-downs to your Aunt Elizabeth in Texas when I started throwing up on the way home. I’m a lister and a planner, my boy, and you threw me for a loop, but the best things that have ever happened to me (falling for your dad my senior year, moving to Utah of all places) have all been unexpected. You balance our family in a way that we so needed. You lifted the pressure of comparison off your big brothers, and you gave me a chance to revisit mothering an infant with the full knowledge that it was my last time. So you might be indulged just a bit, okay, more than a bit, but really---we’re indulging ourselves in you.

Thank you, Nolie, for sharing your joy and laughter with all of us. Thank you for teaching us to be grateful and to see everyday things as adventures. May you continue to grow and explore, always knowing you are loved.

More than all the stars,

Mom