My few years hanging out with Leo have come to a close. I wrapped up my long, drawn out War and Peace project last night.  Honestly I don’t even know how I feel about it.  Tolstoy famously quips that pure, unadulterated sorrow is as impossible as pure, unadulterated joy.  In the same way I can say I feel great kinship with Tolstoy, his ideas, and his characters today.  I also can say the man’s pedantic, fatalist rambling  made me sometimes want to pull my own hair out.  There was a lot of that.  Still I read.

And read.

And read.

At times completely enthralled and other times not even sure why I kept trudging on besides the fact I felt deeply connected to the people and committed to seeing it through. 

I ended up seeing through War and Peace, Anna Karenina, Resurrection, and The Death of Ivan Ilyich and am now applauding myself enthusiastically because first, I am not that smart and second, my attention span is about as impressive as my energy level as a rule. It was a goal set and met though – despite all that life threw at me during the project – and that is worth noting with satisfaction.  

It is both sad to finally be walking away from these people and places and exciting to consider where to go next. My plan is to read a few of the boys’ high school lit novels which I have not yet read so we can hash those out better.  Sometimes I read ahead of them, sometimes I read aloud to them, and sometimes they summarize what they are reading.  It makes for a family book club of sorts. 

Years ago I was inspired by Joyce Swan working through her oldest’s assignments each evening so she could teach and troubleshoot more effectively.  Constant relocation and many years of night nursing prevented me from doing this as well as I had hoped.  There are still children to teach however, and if I can’t get to all the work ahead of them it is still helpful to do what I can.  Reading is a wonderful way to come together with your big people no matter where they spend their days.  It will be good to reconnect in this way. 

Tolstoy advises: A man on a thousand mile walk has to forget his goal and say to himself every morning, 'Today I'm going to cover twenty-five miles and then rest up and sleep.”

And so it is here. I’ve tried not to look at the whole journey and just tackle each day’s leg of it.  If I fell a bit short sometimes, I went a little further the next day. This is the way we chip away at the classics.  Eventually you look up and an epic work is under your belt.  

There is a lot to unpack in this short passage from a new book, Cozy White Cottage. It’s funny I bought it at all, considering my utter lack of restraint with color. Perhaps the fact I do NOT have a white cottage but rather a larger, buttery toned, 90s era,Tuscan wonder drives home the author’s point exactly.  

“Don’t go into debt trying to make your home like someone else’s, don’t make your family uncomfortable trying to mimic how someone else’s house functions when your family isn’t the same, and don’t let comparison ruin your view of your cozy home.”

There are so many ways to ruin our view and most of them are self-inflicted.  It’s such a shame, given how fleeting our time and circumstances may be – for better and worse. 

“Enjoy this season of life. Soon it will be gone, and whether the season is hard or easy street, it comes with important parts that teach us things we will one day miss. So stay in your season and embrace it.”

I don’t cut myself off from beautiful images or happy people when I am experiencing loss or lack or sadness. These things inspire me and remind me that beauty and goodness and harmony are just as true as trials. The trick is gratitude – for those who are in a peaceful season and who provide us respite (visual, spiritual, and physical) and for our own circumstances which are custom made for our personal growth, if we let them work in us to that end. 

We are once again in a season of mending. We once again have a home that needs a lower level remodel.  And bathroom refreshing. Bedroom paint and flooring.  It’s been a year of rebuilding health and reestablishing relationships, laying new foundations. The advantage of all that upheaval is new vistas, new perspectives, new angles to consider.  

” It happens that the best efforts of a devoted teacher seem to be lost on many pupils. Even this will not discourage the religious teacher. 

He will remember that his model, Jesus Christ, did not reap the fruit which might have been expected from such a Master. Not all that He sowed brought forth fruit a hundredfold, not even thirtyfold. Some fell upon stony ground, and other some fell among the thorns, and yet He went on patiently sowing. 

So a teacher ought not to be disheartened if the success should not correspond with his labors. He knows that one reward is certainly in store for him, the measure of which will not be his success, but his zeal; not the fruit but his efforts.”

– Rev Daniel Lord via Finer Feminity 

It is not given to us to know exactly when or how the seeds we sow with our lessons and conversations will come to fruition.  It is not given to us the power to force growth, only to encourage it.  We do better to focus on the planting because the harvest may not be ours to see.  That does not mean it is not in the works however.  

“The first hour of the morning is the rudder of the day.”

–  Victor Hugo

 Serendipity found me down the street from Old Glory in Denver last week. It’s been on my wishlist to visit in person since I have followed the Instagram feed.  The brick and mortar store did not disappoint. I love the way Holly has reinvented and given new life to dignified old pieces.  She brings together the rugged and refined.  

Bonus treat: I picked up a signed copy of her new book.  www.oldglorystyle.com

"…the way of thinking he had worked out in his solitary life had been completely eclipsed by the petty concerns that now beset him… 

When he got home in the evening he would jot down in his notebook four or five essential calls to be made or appointments at fixed times. The mechanical management of his life, arranging his day so as to get everywhere on time, absorbed most of his vital energy.  He did nothing and thought nothing – had no time to think.  All he did was talk…

He was sometimes annoyed to find himself saying the same thing on the same day to different audiences.  But he kept himself so busy for days on end that he had no time to reflect that he wasn't actually doing anything."

Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace

You'll forgive me if I am still mentioning War and Peace, given it's length and depth and breadth.  I will be plugging away for some time yet and, ironically, I started to come to the same conclusions mentioned above.  Talking can eclipse thinking, precluding clear, uninterrupted thought entirely. It can eat into the time we had for study or work or creative pursuits.  The solution seems obvious: less talking, more thinking. 

Chatter is at our fingertips, literally, today with social media.  Conversation itself is wonderful, but if we are to have anything worthwhile to say it needs to be supported by a counterweight of meditation.  This was getting away from me due to all the "mechanical management" life has required.  I am setting small goals daily in my own notebook for exercise, magnesium soaks, prayer, and reading. This brings back balance and finds me filled with meatier thoughts to share versus the meme mindset I was slipping into.  

Different ages and stages of life of course come with different challenges.  Clear thought and the reading of difficult books was not as feasible during the years of night nursing and endless loads of laundry. This chapter of life requires less of some tasks and more of others.  The physical workload eases as children grow (and sleep more) however the challenge of transitioning to parenting adults and aging (ourselves and those we love) call for more recollection.  It doesn't seem optional anymore.  We make time or we are quickly running on reserves, or worse. 

Wherever you are, I hope you are feeding that beautiful mind of yours.  While doing all the planning and organizing it is worth considering in which ways that "vital energy" of ours might be being depleted, even by delightful pastimes. We can keep ourselves so busy we don't recognize all that is not being done. 

Read

Think

Talk

….all done best in that order, I've decided.

I sat musing in this very unfinished space and snapped a picture of my clock, hanging once again in this new place.  An online friend, who has gifted me with years of conversation over literal life and death matters, as well as lighthearted, day to day commentary, had carved out a little time in her travel to visit in person, here, this morning.  The glow pouring in over my rag-tag, thrifted everything mirrored the warm feeling I had after her visit and reminded me of the soft, grainy images a past me used to enjoy in old Victoria magazines.  

Much in the present is still in the process of being shaken up and coming together again.  Some parts are a little worse for wear for that. It's not all magazine polished. Like my friend and I were saying, this happens at this stage of life, whether you move or not. Living is a messy business. I thought back to a Joyce Meyer book I read the other day.  She said,

"Our joy does not have to be based on our circumstances."

The author went to explain that we can enjoy our life while God works on our problems. We sometimes need that permission. I can confuse being worried with being responsible and put off these little opportunities because I or my house or my kids or my circumstances are "not there yet."

I decided it is not irresponsible to share moments of joy even when other parts of life are still works in progress.   We do not have to wait for a "future perfect" to appreciate a little bit of pure light shining in on us.  All the parts will never be perfect at the same time anyway.  Ever.  It would be such a shame to stop noticing the parts which are.  

It’s a known fact I have an aversion to retail anything whereas I will happily sift through flea market and junk shop bins and shelves for hours just for a few treasures. Fortunately a few of my kids have inherited this thrill of the hunt and are happy to hang out with me on these foraging missions.  I’ve been eyeing up some new sources for rusty iron gate and garden salvage pieces.  Thought you might enjoy a peek at the market. Bonus picture of most unique pets included:

A leggy, blush pink geranium sits soaking up the sun in its crock near the kitchen window.  When it came time to pull the annuals last fall our dear, disabled friend protested loudly.  He lobbied hard for this one and I didn’t have the heart to uproot it.  We kept watering and he checked on it all winter whenever he visited.  My reward has been these blooms gracing our kitchen long before the new spring flowers reach the nursery.  Very often, sentiment beats out practicality around here. I never regret that.