Amber Housley

Good and not-so-good stuff.

Category: Uncategorized

First, the not-so-good stuff. Week 1 of daycare and Colin came home with his first cold. Blech. Poor little guy. Nothing serious…just sad little sniffles and coughing and sneezing. Hoping he feels better soon!

We have been busy just doing normal stuff around the house. Lots of things planned in the weeks and months ahead! More pictures to share soon! :)

Haven't done much blog surfing lately since I've been back to work, but I came across this great read on Carrie's blog today. Such a great read…I ordered the book: Cold Tangerines: Celebrating the Extraordinary Nature of Everyday Life on Amazon today, and am looking forward to reading the whole book of essays.

I can totally relate to this…maybe you can too. :)

“On Waiting”
by Shauna Niequist

I have always, essentially, been waiting. Waiting to become
something else, waiting to be that person I always thought I was on the
verge of becoming, waiting for that life I thought I would have. In my
head, I was always one step away. In high school, I was biding my time
until I could become the college version of myself, the one my mind
could see so clearly. In college, the post-college “adult” person was
always looming in front of me, smarter, stronger, more organized. Then
the married person, then the person I’d become when we have kids. For
twenty years, literally, I have waited to become the thin version of
myself, because that’s when life will really begin.

And through all that waiting, here I am. My life is passing, day by
day, and I am waiting for it to start. I am waiting for that time, that
person, that event when my life will finally begin.

I love movies about “The Big Moment” — the game or the performance
or the wedding day or the record deal, the stories that split time with
that key event, and everything is reframed, before it and after it,
because it has changed everything. I have always wanted this
movie-worthy event, something that will change everything and grab me
out of this waiting game into the whirlwind in front of me. I cry and
cry at these movies, because I am still waiting for my own big moment.
I had visions of life as an adventure, a thing to be celebrated and
experienced, but all I was doing was going to work and coming home, and
that wasn’t what it looked like in the movies.

John Lennon once said, “Life is what happens when you’re busy making
other plans.” For me, life is what was happening while I was busy
waiting for my big moment. I was ready for it and believed that the
rest of my life would fade into the background, and that my big moment
would carry me through life like a lifeboat. The Big Moment,
unfortunately, is an urban myth. Some people have them, in a sense,
when they win the Heisman or become the next American Idol. But even
that football player or that singer is living a life made up of more
than that one moment. Life is a collection of a million, billion
moments, tiny little moments and choices, like a handful of luminous,
glowing pearls. And strung together, built upon one another, lined up
through the days and the years, they make a life, a person. It takes so
much time, and so much work, and those beads and moments are so small,
and so much less fabulous and dramatic than the movies.

But this is what I’m finding, in glimpses and flashes: this is it.
This is it, in the best possible way. That thing I’m waiting for, that
adventure, that movie-score-worthy experience unfolding gracefully.
This is it. Normal, daily life ticking by on our streets and sidewalks,
in our houses and apartments, in our beds and at our dinner tables, in
our dreams and prayers and fights and secrets. This pedestrian life is
the most precious thing any of us will ever experience.

I believe that this way of living, this focus on the present, the
daily, the tangible, this intense concentration not on the news
headlines but on the flowers growing in your own garden, the children
growing in your own home, this way of living has the potential to open
up the heavens, to yield a glittering handful of diamonds where a
second ago there was coal. This way of living and noticing and building
and crafting can crack through the movie sets and soundtracks that keep
us waiting for our own life stories to begin, and set us free to
observe the lives we have been creating all along without even
realizing it.

I don’t want to wait anymore. I choose to believe that there is
nothing more sacred or profound than this day. I choose to believe that
there may be a thousand big moments embedded in this day, waiting to be
discovered like tiny shards of gold. The big moments are the daily,
tiny moments of courage and forgiveness and hope that we grab on to and
extend to one another. That’s the drama of life, swirling all around
us, and generally I don’t even see it, because I’m too busy waiting to
become whatever it is I think I am about to become. The big moments are
in every hour, every conversation, every meal, every meeting.

The Heisman Trophy winner knows this. He knows that his big moment
was not when they gave him the trophy. It was the thousand times he
went to practice instead of going back to bed. It was the miles run on
rainy days, the healthy meals when a burger sounded like heaven. That
big moment represented and rested on a foundation of moments that had
come before it.

I believe that if we cultivate a true attention, a deep ability to
see what has been there all along, we will find worlds within us and
between us, dreams and stories and memories spilling over. The nuances
and shades and secrets and intimations of love and friendship and
marriage and parenting are action-packed and multicolored, if you know
where to look.

Today is your big moment. Moments, really. The life you’ve been
waiting for is happening all around you. The scene unfolding right
outside your window is worth more than the most beautiful painting, and
the crackers and peanut butter that you’re having for lunch on the
coffee table are as profound, in their own way, as the Last Supper.
This is it. This is life in all its glory, swirling and unfolding
around us, disguised as pedantic, pedestrian non-events. But pull off
the mask and you will find your life, waiting to be made, chosen,
woven, crafted.

Your life, right now, today, is exploding with energy and power and
detail and dimension, better than the best movie you have ever seen.
You and your family and your friends and your house and your dinner
table and your garage have all the makings of a life of epic
proportions, a story for the ages. Because they all are. Every life is.

You have stories worth telling, memories worth remembering, dreams
worth working toward, a body worth feeding, a soul worth tending, and
beyond that, the God of the universe dwells within you, the true
culmination of super and natural.

You are more than dust and bones.

You are spirit and power and image of God.

And you have been given Today.

Comments

Stephanie says:

What a moving essay. I’ve never heard of that book before but I might buy myself a copy.
I hope Colin is over his cold soon! Baby sniffles are so pitiful. :(

Houry says:

This was such an inspirational essay! and exactly needed in my life right about now! Thanks for posting. I have already passed it on to others. I can’t wait to read the book too.

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