Dear diary,
A couple months ago, at a local farmer's market [I attended fully expecting to come home with fresh produce and maybe a chicken or two, but apparently a "farmer's market" isn't a market where farmers sell their harvests... who'd have thought?], I met a lovely couple who were on a mission to bring skin-healthy products to the community in innovative ways. They were awesome. And so friendly.
I left their stand with some homemade sleepytime massage oil for the baby, peppermint beard oil [I don't have a beard, but it just smelled soooo good], and a sample tin of customized powdered dry shampoo that was not yet on their website for purchase. It's tailored to blend in with your hair color and absorb excess oil from your roots/scalp while nourishing your follicles. However that works. 🤷♀️ Dry shampoo has always been a mystery to me, but I was excited to try it.
Except I ended up forgetting that I had it.
Now, rewind... or fast forward... [whichever came first or last, I can't remember]...
For Christmas, my sister Tris put together thoughtful care packages for our oldest sister Jenn, and me. It had chapstick, sentimental jewelry, necessities, all sorts of things she knew we each liked, and a new kind of charcoal toothpaste that wasn't paste at all... it was more like black tooth dust. I was intrigued. What you do is, you moisten your toothbrush, coating it with some of the dust, and then brush your teeth as usual; the end result: a whiter, brighter, healthier smile.
No one prepared me for the 'during' result though. The dark dust turns into a ghastly liquid coating on your teeth that doesn't go away until you thoroughly brush and rinse. [I like to scare my husband sometimes and smile at him with my black-tar-looking teeth when he least expects it. It's hilarious. You should try it sometime.]
Fast-forward to this morning.
I saw a matte black unlabeled tin on our dresser and suddenly remembered what was in it... Oh, no! I never tried the dry shampoo powder! I didn't know if my hair really needed it, but I was determined to gather some feedback for the generous woman (Ashley? Lauren? Rachael? I can't remember her first name, unfortunately) who trusted me to supply her with an honest review and had already been waiting a long time for it.
The problem was... I didn't know how I was meant to apply it. I tried dabbing my fingertip into the mixture to see if my skin would be able to act as a transfer... nope. Then, I tried to tilt and tap some of it into my cupped hand to sprinkle over my head... but as soon as I did, an impressively large smoky cloud expanded into the air and all over my face... like you'd see in a cartoon where Wile E. Coyote waited just a little too long before throwing the stick of dynamite.
So, with hair-colored powder all over my face, I found my way to the bathroom, setting the tin down near the sink to search for a makeup powder-brush instead (I have no idea why that wasn't my initial course of action to begin with). As I reached down into the drawer, my "Look, if you don't get all of your butts out the door and into the car within the next 15 minutes (including the baby's), you'll have to duck under the live stream camera to get to your seats and potentially get called out by Pastor Trent for being late" alarm went off.
Shoot! I still had to brush my teeth, somehow get all of this dust off of my face, make a fresh bottle, and get the baby dressed...
Mom-mode kicked in. Multitasking upon multitasking. I set everything down and took care of the baby, reminding the girls not to forget their Bibles and to make sure they're dressed appropriately for the chilly weather, made a bottle with one hand while pouring cereal with another and balancing the baby on my hip while using the other one to close the pantry door. It was empowering. [In hindsight, I should've just asked my husband for help, who would have gladly lent a hand, but it's so easy to get into the misplaced mindset of "I've got this" for everything that sometimes we forget that we've got help.]
I set the baby down and rushed off to brush my teeth, turned on the faucet, ran the bristles under, and caught my reflection... UGH, powdered dry shampoo all over my face like a poorly-done spray tan... I forgot all about it! So I took my glasses off, picked up the powder brush with my other hand, and started gently coaxing the particles off my skin while dipping my toothbrush into the charcoal tin to start brushing my teeth.
... Except... it wasn't the charcoal toothpaste container I'd dipped my toothbrush into. It was the dry shampoo tin right beside it... simultaneously, what I was now brushing into my scalp was powdered toothpaste.
They are NOT interchangeable.
So, we were a few minutes late to church today and my hair was a bit darker in a patch on top... and my mouth tasted like my hair was supposed to feel... but we showed up. And I didn't even mind ducking underneath the live feed camera... because we were surrounded by family and exactly where we were meant to be. No judgement, just love.
As Pastor Trent says, "If it's worth doing, it's worth doing poorly."
I don't think he means to purposely mess up or to not put forth a genuine effort... but rather, that if something is worth doing, it's worth it to take the first steps to get there... even if they're wobbly, imperfect, or nothing like you'd imagined... they're still steps in the right direction.
I'm not quite sure what the takeaway is... there were so many:
Wake up earlier and you'll have more time to get ready, ask for help instead of being pig-headed in thinking you can do it all yourself, make sure you know the accurate location of similarly-shaped containers before you take your glasses off, or even that right before church isn't a good time for experimenting with cosmetic samples...
But whatever it may be, we'll definitely be on time next Sunday and you're invited too.
Sincerely,
a perpetual work in progress,
me.
There's a little white trailer on the corner of our street, nestled right where the bus stops for the children to come home after school. For the past two years, I've stood there waiting just about every weekday... wobbling there during my pregnancy with Norah, pushing her in her stroller as an infant, and recently just carrying her in my arms since she's about outgrown her buggy and we're usually running 'late' (which ends up still being ridiculously early most days).
I've seen the gentleman who lives there, but only in passing... a simple wave and a smile, followed by, "Thank you for letting me stand here to wait for the bus every day!" and a gentle nod in reply. We don't share the same first language.
Some days, I find myself waiting there for half an hour or more before the bus comes... others, it's mere minutes... but there's no telling which it will be on any given day. And holding a squirming toddler-sized-infant can get quite cumbersome after a while... even as a mom (I know we're thought to have superpowers, but that one must've eluded me).
The wait can be exhausting sometimes though... and when we get back home, my arms often feel like melted Jello... but I can't complain. And wouldn't. After all, I could just drive the car down instead... but the fresh air sure is nice. The walk is nice too. And Norah likes to point, babble, and look at the scenery as we make our way down the street. 100% worth it.
Today, as we approached the tree we usually stand beneath, I noticed something else already waiting there. As we made our way closer, the details came into view... it was a simple handcrafted wooden stool chained to the tree so it couldn't get mistaken for roadside pickings and hauled away. And it was there for me.
No words exchanged... just a simple gesture in a neighbor's absence... from one person to another, as if to say, "I see you and I can help." I'm overwhelmed with gratitude.
God is good and people aren't all bad either. Thanks for the reminder.
Dear Diary,
One of my most favorite books to read as a child was, "The Secret Garden." I was even more excited when we got to read it in elementary school... and again, when I found out that we would be using class time to watch the video (yes, on VHS)... and even MORE excited to hear that included with the video was a dainty silver locket.
There was a catch, though... it only came with one locket, but there were more than twenty students in each class. The prize needed to be given away fairly, so one of the teachers mentioned writing names on slips of paper, leaving the outcome to chance. But my heart was set on that little necklace and I didn't like those odds. I had to do something about it.
So, generally-shy little me worked up the nerve to raise my hand and suggest a different idea: a trivia competition. We would all be quizzed about the book, and the winner would keep the locket. "Plus, it'll save paper from being wasted." I was determined.
The odds were much better now and I knew the book from cover to cover.
I also knew exactly what I wanted to do with the locket when I won it. Not "if"... "when".
And I did.
I remember racing home from the bus with my shiny new treasure, digging out photos I'd been collecting, measuring the space I needed to fill, and getting to work.
It was perfect. I wore it to school every day after that for the longest time.
Fast-forward more than twenty years... tonight, my oldest sister, Jenn, walked up to me with a smirk while I was rocking Norah to sleep.
"Close your eyes and open your hand..."
"Is it a bug? I swear Jenn, if it's something alive again, I'm going to get you back!"
"No, it's not... trust me. You'll like this one."
And I did.
I knew from first sight what it was because I remembered how hard I worked to get it. You don't easily forget something like that. And I knew what was inside because it took quite a while to find pictures with the proper cutable dimensions to fit ... this was back when you had to wait days or weeks for photos to be developed from rolls of film, back when the concept of "one-hour photo" was a myth for us common folk, and back when you couldn't just press a button to print whatever size image you needed.
I was sentimental even as a kid... and look where we are now... same boy, same girl... only now, with a family of our own.
Sincerely,
me.
On Saturday, August 22, 2020, shortly before 4:30 PM, I stopped having a boyfriend. It wasn’t how I expected the day to turn out at all.
We made plans to meet a couple of our friends at the beach for the afternoon and then stop by their house later that night for a BBQ. The girls were excited about it all week… but then, Nathan informed us he had to work a half-day that day. I understood, but I was also a bit disappointed because I know how sometimes half days can turn into three-quarter days and I didn’t want the girls to miss out on going on the beach trip they’d been anticipating for so long.
In the morning, Nate reminded me that it was the ‘anniversary’ of the day we truly reconnected again… the random “go to bed” message I sent him that somehow led to the chain reaction of our shared life together. I was pretty darn impressed that he remembered… or even that he took the time to make a note of it. It’s not typically a ‘guyish’ thing to do, but he’s a “full of surprises” kind of guy.
The clouds outside were downcast. It even started drizzling as he left for work. Bummer. I prayed the rain would hold off a while so we could spend the day relaxing in the sand together. It was long overdue—especially after the summer it’d been. I caught myself in a daydream.
Aaaaand then I went into squirrel-mode trying to make sure everything was ready. I couldn’t forget the badminton net or the frisbee. There wasn’t a bag big enough for everything, so I just used the zippy bag from Aria’s bedding set… it worked well enough. Towels, check. Sunscreen, check. More sunscreen, check. Water bottles? Check. Ziplocs for collecting shells, check. I even sewed strings onto the girls’ sunhats so they wouldn’t fly away at the first strong breeze.
Am I forgetting anything? Oh yeah! A swimsuit coverup! I reached into the closet and grabbed the biggest, longest, frumpiest button-up shirt I could find, and threw it on. After all, it’s not like I had to impress anyone… it was just a casual day at the beach, not a beauty pageant, right?
Nathan pulled into the driveway as the girls and I were chomping at the bit all ready to leave. We were supposed to meet Heidi and Zac at the beach around 2, or so I thought. It turned out that they were meeting us at our house and THEN we were heading to the beach. That made sense too. Then, Nate told me that a few of our other friends would be there as well… I told him we should probably extend the invitation to Hannah, Kevin, Shasta, and Kimchi too and make it a group thing (I went off to find my volleyball… I’d been itching for a beach game anyway; there’s just usually never enough people) … but he said the others were busy. Maybe next time. I left the volleyball at home but remembered to quickly grab one of the books I’d been reading, “The Best Yes”. You can’t go to the beach without at least one book. It’s probably a rule somewhere.
Denise, Nick, and their crew (Tristan and Ella) showed up—followed shortly thereafter by Heidi and Zac. Everyone was in such a chipper mood for it being a gloomy-looking day. I chalked it up to coffee. Denise even took a few group selfies (which turned out great). It took us a little while to consolidate which beach we were going to and where we’d park since the island-parking-dictator-people recently limited beach parking in some areas… but we figured it out!
Windows down, our favorite Spotify playlist blaring, and smiles on, we were finally headed to the beach! As usual, I tried getting a few video snippets of our Jeep-karaoke session… Nathan really gets into Elton John’s “Tiny Dancer” when the beat drops… I wanted to capture it, but he’s onto me now and as soon as my phone points in his direction, he puts on a stone face or pulls his hat down. *rolls eyes* No fun. I took a video anyway. He’d have to get over it… or I’ll have to be more subtle next time.
After a bunch of circling around the Isle of Palms, we all parked and trekked to the beach. For not exactly being a sunny day, it was still pretty crowded. Ick. People. Hahaha… just kidding. We DID try to find a more isolated spot though. And of course, the girls wanted to go right into the water. Which meant that I had to, too. I thought Nate would want to go in with us, but he stayed back a bit… and then left again. And was on his phone when we got there. That’s not like him. I was concerned that maybe something happened with work. Oh, please don’t make him have to go back in today… he seemed distracted.
Aria didn’t want me to put her down. Machaela wanted to go deeper into the ocean than where Aria was comfortable… I was torn. So I stayed back a little bit but made sure if there was an emergency, I’d be in lunging range… she wasn’t even that deep anyway, but my brain operates on perpetual Mom-mode whenever the girls are around. Nathan joined us for a few minutes and then left to go back up to where everyone was. Not gonna lie, I was a bit disgruntled because I really could’ve used the help. I wasn’t about to leave the girls down there alone and there’s no way they’d want to go back up to the towels so soon anyway. I don’t know how I hadn’t factored this dilemma into my expectations for the day hahaha.
After a while longer, I was able to convince them that drying off for a bit and getting a drink from the cooler was a good idea. As we walked up to where everyone else was, Denise said we should all go off and look for shells down the shore. Okay… my book can wait. You see, I just had a tiny bit of it left to read… and if you’re an avid reader, you’re probably familiar with that all-consuming feeling of being sooooooo close to finishing a book you’d been chipping away at for ages… I just wanted to get to the last page already so I could get it out of my mind and move on; the beach is usually the perfect spot for finishing novels.
I thought Nate was behind us, but when I turned around to talk to him, he was already headed back towards the other group of our friends… Okay? I guess he’s not looking for shells with us either. Denise said something about him going to set up the badminton net so we could play later. Okay. That made sense. The girls and I were really looking forward to it. I felt a bit guilty for being kind of upset about how distracted he seemed.
We strolled along for a while… seemingly farther and farther away from where we initially set up the umbrella. And I thought that I was big on walking the shore for shells, but the way Denise was going on about it was a whole different level. She seemed dead set on finding sand dollars to show the girls. It was sweet. Every time I mentioned about maybe heading back so we could all hang out together, she said that she needed to keep her promise to the girls. I couldn’t really argue with that…
Finally, she got a call and said that they finished setting up the net and were ready for a game of badminton… or frisbee… or whatever everyone wanted to play. Yes! It was perfect badminton weather. The sun was tucked behind the clouds instead of in our faces and the rain was holding off. Aria was covered in sand. I’m fairly certain she was even more sand than she was swimsuit. She ran off ahead of us. The closer we approached, the more confused I became… I didn’t see the badminton net anywhere… where in tarnation did they put it? Then, I remembered that I accidentally left the actual poles for the net part back at the house and felt really bad… of course they couldn’t have set it up… they didn’t have all of the pieces! *facepalm* … I felt bad that they must’ve spent all that time looking in vain while I was off gallivanting with the girls collecting shells. They didn’t seem phased though. Nate called me over to where he was and I saw a bouquet of red and white roses in the sand near the cooler.
I thought, “Oh wow… he’s really taking our “Reconnectiversary” to a whole nother level… and I didn’t even get anything to surprise him with… drat!” I was so confused. Our friends were standing around angled in our direction… even the girls stayed back a little bit. He reached down for the flowers and something else… an empty Corona bottle? I felt under-prepared and made a mental note to think of a way to try to make it up to him for going above and beyond for the anniversary of us reconnecting again… maybe a nice dinner? I honestly didn’t realize he’d make such a big to-do about it.
He told me to read the letter that was rolled up inside of the bottle… aweeee a message in a bottle! I didn’t realize that he wrote it on a scrap piece of paper, so I started to read the visible portion of text that was printed out on it… “Flex Login Enter Username???” He raised an eyebrow before realizing that I was reading the wrong side of the paper… “No, not THAT side… the other side!” We laughed. I felt silly. I was nervous and didn’t even quite understand why. I’m not much of a spotlight person, but I felt the heat of everyone looking at us as if knowing details that had yet to be revealed to me.
I started to read his remarkably legible handwriting… “Hello My Love, You’re most likely wondering why there is this message in a bottle for you…” Yes, yes I was wondering exactly that. [I’m not going to divulge everything that was written in the letter or even most of it, but I’ll share a few snippets. It was the sweetest thing I’d ever read from the sweetest man I’ve ever known.] As I read… “You and the girls mean everything to me.” … “You know better than anyone that sometimes a letter can explain things that we can’t in the moment…” He guided me closer and closer to the driftwood bench in the sand. [In the midst of it all, Machaela caught my attention to show me one of the shells she found, and Aria proudly showed off how covered in sand she was. I love them. Okay, back to the letter] … “We spend our whole lives looking for love. It took a while to look back at the 10-year-old me that told my mother ‘I’m going to marry that girl one day.’… … … I was right.” … … … “P.S. Will You?”
Is this…? Is he…?
As I lifted my eyes from the page, trying to keep my tears reined in, he got down on one knee in front of me and a heart that was drawn in the sand with “Will you marry me?” spelled out in seashells, God, the girls, our friends, and everybody else at the beach, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a little black velvet box—which he opened up to show the prettiest ring I’d ever seen, told me he wants to spend the rest of his life with us, and asked if I would marry him.
It took a moment to process what was happening… I was so overwhelmed with emotion I could barely speak, so I nodded—not wanting to keep him waiting… and said “Yes” while leaning in for a kiss. Then, I noticed a few of our other friends… the ones who were “busy” and “couldn’t join us” standing in the background holding cameras… it turns out that they had been there for hours before we arrived—hiding in the bushes with the bouquet of roses and their cameras (even to the point where they explained to the people nearby that they weren’t spying on them but were staying out of sight to be able to document their friends’ engagement) just so they could capture our special moment.
I couldn’t believe that everyone was in on it—even the girls! He had asked for their ‘blessing’ to propose to me… Machaela was even the one who hid the ring the whole time! My heart was overflowing… Hannah and Shasta spent hours crouched in the sand, Denise and Nick spent their own anniversary (yep, it was their anniversary that day!) helping out with our engagement, Heidi and Zac were gathering shells and keeping a lookout to make sure that the surprise didn’t get spoiled, Denise took a ton of pictures and a video from our perspective while distracting me long enough for everyone else to help stage the scene… and the girls kept the secret the whole time… how am I so lucky to be surrounded by this much love?
When I said “Yes,” I wasn’t just saying yes to being his fiancée. I said yes to our future… yes to our family… yes to the ups and downs and everything else that comes along with building and sharing a life together. While I didn’t get to finish reading the last chapter of my book during our time there, we started writing an even better one of our own. Ironically, its title couldn’t have been more appropriate: “The Best Yes”.
Dear diary,
I’m having tea and rice cakes with a mouse this morning to an episode of Downton Abbey. This isn’t at all how I thought I’d be starting my day; nor do I have any complaints.
I was running late…missed my alarm. Machaela tried waking me up before 6—a role reversal of sorts, but she’s an early riser. After what felt like only a few moments, my eyes opened and focused in on the digits of the clock…
7:12. 4 missed calls. Oops.
I jolted upright, had a few seconds of irrational panic, and spent the rest of the morning over-compensating for my tardiness. It was all a blur of limbs reaching for cereal boxes, putting the milk away, gently tugging on strands of hair to make braids for one daughter while the other just wanted hers to be brushed… water bottles… making sure they didn’t forget to wear pants (every child’s nightmare)… shoes… vitamins… *time check*… Oh! Feeding the dogs! I almost forgot!
It was two minutes past when we usually leave to head down for the bus. I was walking into the utility room for some kibble when I saw it. Our eyes met. It didn’t even run. I’d like to think that it identified a morsel of compassion through the windows to my soul. It might have even smiled—but probably not—in my mind though, when I think back… there was the hint of a smile.
I knew my Dad had snap traps set all over the house because there’s been a mouse at large (or small—as it were) … and just the thought of the little creature meeting its demise before it was old and grey-er… I knew I had to act fast. I quickly glanced around for something I could use… an empty plastic jug… perfect! Mind you, it was now 4 minutes past when the girls and I were supposed to leave, so I frantically spammed the unlock button on the key fob while unscrewing the lid of the jug with my other hand—cradling it for stability with my elbow. “Girls, get in the car—I’ll be right out!”
I caught the mouse. But didn’t have time to do anything with it. Or to even figure out step 2.
And then, I remembered that I forgot to get their snacks ready for the day… (or rather, my Mom reminded me as I was rushing out the door). So I grabbed the jug of mouse, 2 sandwich bags, and a stack of rice cakes… I’d assemble them in the car.
My plan was to release my new beady-eyed friend into the wild down at the bus stop. But it was cold. And I remembered my favorite cartoon growing up…"An American Tail”… and the song “Somewhere Out There” crept out from the confines of my innermost psyche… but we were thankfully on time for the bus. I quickly put together the girls’ snack bags for school as the bus was rolling into view and handed one off to each, blowing kisses and giving thumbs-ups to reinforce the tone of a great day ahead.
I waved the “I love you” sign as the bus pulled away—children safely in tow… and then waved to the curly-haired woman who always parks in front of me…I’m pretty sure she thinks the “I love you”s are for her because she always waves to me before she drives off. I don’t mind. Everyone deserves to feel loved. Or waved at. Or both.
But there was still the matter of little Fievel Mousekewitz…
I shuddered at the thought of him shivering in the cold… his tiny little heart beating extra fast to try to compensate the warmth… so we drove back to the house together… I, vowing to let him loose outside during the warmer part of the day so he has some time to go house hunting before the chill bites back.
…which brings us to now. Rice cake tidbits, tea, and Norah Jones sing-alongs. It looks like I found myself a little manuscript buddy today and he found a new lease on life [and is now using some of the cotton balls and napkins I gave him to make a mouse-sized pillow fort].
Sincerely,
me.
***before anyone gets on me about feeding a mouse rice cakes… rest assured… they were gluten-freeand little Fievel was released back into the wild the same day... after it warmed up a little bit.***
Kaleidoscopic Grace 