“Because being a homemaker isn’t about being extraordinary. It’s about seeing the ordinary in a conscious way. A way that leads to gratitude, joy and understanding. A way that helps me create an environment in which me and my family can become more human everyday. If you are moved, I invite you to share your ordinary things by replying below or leaving a link.”
John and the kids went back to school two weeks ago. One short week after we returned home to Denver from our nine week road trip to New England and Atlantic Canada. We had planned to be back a bit earlier, but life, as you know, has its twists and turns.
As the first official day of school hurtled towards us, amidst teacher in-service meetings and school supply lists, unpacking and reclaiming the farmlette, I couldn’t help but wish we’d given ourselves a little more space to transition from the agenda free, family filled days of summer, to lunch boxes and alarm clocks and going different directions. The days were passing, we were not ready for the change, and I could feel it acutely.
Then Mattheus brought us the answer. He woke up a day or two before the beginning of the school year and reminded me, “You know, Mama, we never had our last campfire, and you said we could have it when we got home, remember?” He was right. On our return trip everyone was a bit traveled out, so we traded extra camping activities for better time on the road. But for Mattheus, camping is only camping if you cook your supper over an open fire, so we had promised him a campfire upon returning home. “A nice way to finish the summer,” we had told him. I just needed a little nudge as to how true that was. The clear simple voice of a child to cut through all of the din of preparation.
It wasn’t a big moment. No ceremony or scrapbooks. No signs saying “first day of second grade” or growth measurements. These are all lovely, mind you, and in an ideal world I’d do a few more of them, but sometimes it’s enough to just stand around the fire in stillness, looking each other in the eye, silently licking sticky fingers and acknowledging that these are the last marshmallows of the summer. Watching another moment come and go, and wrapped into that short moment, all that has been and all that will be. Knowing that we’re not quite ready, but we will be.
*For my regular readers, you’ll notice the change in title. In an effort to move away from the material aspects of homemaking and towards the inner work of the homemaker, I’m going with “moments” rather than “things” from here on out. I look forward to sharing with you!