31 Days: October 1

So here's the thing: I don't do consistency well.

I like change.

I like beginning things.

I don't like the endings.

And I get extremely bored and bogged down in the middle.

There are many, many examples of where this disturbing character quality has caused trouble for me. The negatives abound; unfinished projects, unwritten songs, incomplete visions, newsletters with one (and only one) issue...

I like people, and I tend to stick with them. A friend pointed out a strength (that is also a weakness) in my reluctance to ever abandon a relationship when I've let someone into an inner place of trust. So, there's that thing, that I tend to stick to it when it comes to relationships, which is not so bad.

But to the point: I don't stick with most things well. I'd rather move into a new house than finish a project in the old one. I'd rather run with a brand new idea than see one through to completion.

I am not proud of this.

And I am, therefore, somewhat reluctant to do this thing that I am about to do.

But it's a trial of sort. And there are some out there, in that collection of people I've never given up on (and who have yet to give up on me) that will encourage me to stick with it. That will help me.

So here we go. Inspired by a group of bloggers who collect around a certain
Nesting Place, I'm doing a thirty-one day experiment in noticing things.

Moments.

I'll do my best to write every day, to prove to myself that I can. To become a better writer. To build a habit.

But mostly, to honor the spirit of where I'll turn my head. To notice more of my life, to recognize the moments that too easily skip right on by, buried in the midst of life and work and coming and going.

And, to be honest, lost to the mindless worm hole of internet searches and Facebook.

I want to notice the moments.

So here we go.

Day 1

I did not feel well today - a sinus infection, I think - and so I cancelled piano lessons and bailed out of work early. Home, I moved slowly, ate a bit of lunch, drank a lot of water and slowed my heartbeat.

My boys come home on Mondays - the ONLY day that they come home after school, rather than head to rehearsal or work or small group or a football game. They both came home after school, and I think I noticed a pleasant look of surprise when they walked in the door and found me there.

"What's for dinner?" David asked. I said I didn't know, that I wasn't feeling well.

"Okay."

They snacked, I napped. My husband came home, antibiotics (for me) in hand. I snoozed on the chair with my feet up, wrapped in a quilt made by my mom. They did homework, and listened to music, and read, and skated.

And the moment came about 7:45, when we were getting ready to watch our favorite (only) family show ("The Voice"). I realized that everyone was home, at least every relative who currently lives here, and that we were relaxed.

I can't remember the last time I was simply relaxed, at home. My boys, doing various things; my husband, working on a guitar repair. It was a flashback to a time when the kids were younger and being home was the constant, common thing rather than the exception.

It was a moment of grace, a thin reminder of what it means to be home and present. Sinus infection and all, it was worth it.

Being home. I noticed. And it was good.

Here we go:
October 2 - Not The Point
October 3 - I'm Really Good At This!
October 4 - Early To Rise...
October 5 - Filling The Third
October 6 - The Heart (And All Sons & Daughters)
October 7 - Family
October 8 - Vertigo
October 9 - Glory, Glory
October 10 - Face to Face
October 11 - Noticing Soup