Raking leaves

Today I tackled the leaves around my house. Yes, I'm a season behind, but my excessively kind and care-taking landlord mentioned something about their needing to be done, so I set out to handle the project.

I can't remember the last time I raked leaves. Probably never. And definitely not that hard. There is a whole discussion here about division of labor, but that's not the one I want to have today...

I had a lot of time to think while I was raking. It's a beautiful day, and the kids spent a couple hours with me outside-- flying a kite and playing wiffle ball. But mostly, it was me and the dog, raking away. I'm pretty sure that some of the leaves I raked up were well beyond my time here-- I think I struck oil in the back corner.

When I moved in last year, newly divorced, living single for the first time, I managed my house as well as I could. I handled the basics-- paying bills, cleaning, taking care of the kids. I unpacked and made a place for everything. I bought things as I need them that I realized I didn't have (cookie sheets, trash cans, light bulbs. The same as anyone who moves into a new home.

But there were several things that were beyond me. I paid someone to mow. I thanked God every day for my dear friend and landlord who continues to go out of his way to solve my crazy problems. I could only handle what I could handle. I was still sorting through and splitting Christmas decorations. Trying to balance a full-time in-office schedule and kid practices and a new school. I could only do so much.

This spring, I feel different. I am ready to begin new life again. Not just sustain, or get by doing what I have always been doing, but to take ownership of this life. Raking leaves was a part of that for me.

The leaves have been there way too long. They symbolized to me a lot of the trash and junk that I let clutter my life. You think if you ignore it, maybe it will disappear into a neighbor's yard or melt away with a good snow, but here they are, the leaves waiting for you on a warm spring day. They have to be dealt with.

Discovering the growth beneath the leaves was energizing to me. I have bushes and plants that were struggling to get out and grow, but were fighting against the clutter of the leaves, smothering and choking out the new life. For me to embrace this new phase of my life, I have to clear away the clutter. I have to deal with and clear out the doubt and disappointment of my marriage, the guilt of what I do and am unable to do, and the expectations of everyone but myself. In order to grow, I have work to do.

Work requires tools. Today I bought a new rake and bags for my afternoon project. I bought new outdoor toys for the kids to occupy them while we were out. I know, too, that growing into this new life will require tools also. My family and friends are my truest assets-- seeing me through dark times, laughing with me, and teaching me how to think in a new way. I am hesitant, but picking up old tools as well. I'm slowly walking back into a type of prayer life, after being resentful and disappointed at how my faith served me in the past. I am learning new things too. I'm learning to forgive faster, to be my own compass, to love without fear.

I'm excited about the outcome of my yard. Leaf raking is not for perfectionists, I realized, and the more I raked the more wayward leaves jumped out of the bag, it seemed. So, it's a process too. Just like me. I will keep working away. The good news is, I'm on the right path. And I'm ready to start growing again.

November 3: Grace

A few years ago I decided I should celebrate thanksgiving by being thankful each day of the month. Today I started (albeit late) with grace. "I'm so thankful for the ability to screw up and live to fight another day. What a blessing to live in peace."

I had some additional thoughts...

Last year, I didn't do thankful November. Last year, I was barely making sense of the day to day, trapped in a nightmare I never thought I'd be in. Christmas too, my favorite time of year, was lost to me. Oh, we had Santa and Christmas and the elf on the shelf, but the joy was lost. I'm sure even the kids noticed it. 

My faith, though strong, was birthed in a religion rife with judgement. Not intentionally. But people have a tendency to point out the failures of others and not their own (plank, speck, anyone?). We preached and sang and believed in God's grace, but believed that the best course was not to need it. My type-a, first-born mind turned this into a requirement for perfection. And I can tell you, when you're trapped in a course you never imagined, a faith based on perfection is unattainable. 

Now I see grace differently. No matter our failure-- whether an offense to God, to our family, to friends-- grace is the ability to start again. Try again. It's admitting I am not at all perfect, nor will I be, but it's okay. Make amends. Learn. Do better next time. 

My kids and I call this a do over. We've been doing it forever. It started on one of those mornings. You know the kind-- kids screaming, 3 trips back in the house, rush rush rush, tears, drama-- the usual weekday morning routine. I looked at Sam and said, "you know what we need. We need a do over." We'd just done such a bad job that we needed to pretend it hadn't happened and start all over again with a clean slate. That's grace on a Monday morning. Admitting you've done a bad job. Giving yourself permission to reset with a 0-0 count. Trying to do better next time-- knowing that if you have one more shot, you might just get it right. 

This year, I've got a clean start. I've got a newish job, new home, new schedule. Some things are good, some less good, but it's a do over. We always have consequences, and I'm not saying I don't have those to deal with (that's for another day)-- but I have new life. And God doesn't need me to be perfect-- just to admit that I'm not and keep moving forward. 

On November 3, 2013, I'm thankful for grace.