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| Beginning of 2016, before the schedule heated up |
It’s time for my annual family blog. Except it’s been two years since the last
entry. It is, however, typical for me to
post a blog towards the end of our family respite in Montana. So the reason for the gap year? We skipped Montana last summer because of my
Final Four gig. First time in a very long time we let that happen. I
think we all agree doing so was a mistake, although we still cannot figure out
how we would have swung it. Needless to
say, by the time we made it to the day before our departure this summer, we
were fried-to-a-crisp, burnt-pieces-of-toast, totally tired and trying to
figure out how to reconnect with each other, how to unwind. This
from a family that really is very intentional about our commitments – a family
that says “no” to a lot of things and isn’t out there building our kid’s
college resume with a gazillion different activities. We’ve merely been in a season that has been
busy (and I don’t like that word, nor do I throw it out there lightly, I hate
it when people are constantly telling me they are “busy”) – some of that from
our own stupidity and some of it just because that’s the kind of time we’ve
been in with work and school. The date
in late July for our departure was the “finish line” for us - the place that
told us we were going to be heading out of the busy season and into a new mode
of being.
The drive is usually the unwind piece. It takes us a couple of days to get here so
that by the time we
are rolling down Highway 89 through the Paradise Valley, we
have found our bearings a bit, had enough conversation to reconnect, let work
go enough to slide into learning how to all be with each other again. I had a harder time of it this year for many
reasons. But, mostly, I went into our
time together completely exhausted and ready to take that one, big, deep breath
– back to the rhythm I love and know, with the family I love and adore. On the drive out, my throat was scratchy and
by the time we got here, I had a full blown summer cold. That told me a lot about the schedule the
past couple of months. But, what was
truly great was the fact that I could actually rest and heal. Which is exactly what I did. |
| Nate and Poppa fishing at dusk |
This is the time I typically take every year to assess where
I’ve been and where I am going. Life is
slow here and we savor our time together.
The river goes by steady and easy right outside our backdoor. Emigrant Peak stands majestic and strong on
the other side of the Yellowstone – stalwart, beautiful and the same year to
year, which is comforting. Dusk comes
and Nate, Dave and my dad wade into the water with their fly fishing poles and
enjoy the quiet and ease of each other’s company, where the cadence of casting
their lines is soothing – especially for this momma who sits on the back deck
and watches. Brooks-the-Wonder-Dog perches
on the back casting rock and smells the world go by. Every few afternoons, the wind decides to whip
up and throw itself down the valley, bending the trees to its will, but never
breaking them. Once a week at least, a
thunderstorm rumbles around Paradise, the lightening show above Emigrant Peak
being one of the most magnificent sights I’ve seen, especially around sunset. When the storm clears, the clouds are all
shades of pink and purple, floating over the Absarokas with the last light of
the day. But my very favorite time here
in this place are the mornings - when I throw open all the windows and
pour my first cup of coffee, find my way
My assessment a few years ago was how “Full” I was with the
good life, having left behind an extremely difficult job time for me. I literally took the remainder of that year
to get my bearings and enjoy the people in my life as I prepared to step into
the Final Four mix early the next year. This
year’s assessment is a bit different. Here, as we near the end of our time in our “thin
place” Dave and I have looked hard at where we want to be over the course of
the next two years - these final two years that Nate will be under our roof
before he heads off to college.
I know that every parent of a little one rolls their eyes
when us old folks tell them that the time really does go by fast. Somehow, I’ve been told, it negates the
difficulties of the present moment. When
I say time has flown by as I have watched Nate grow up, I am not saying that it
negates any of the long
Our long days in Montana are both slow and fast. Slow in their pace because we aren’t rushing
to anywhere really (except maybe to meet our favorite fly fishing guide, Hank,
for a float down the river and a great day of fishing). Fast in that it feels like we just got here
and in spite of the long runs we do up here, suddenly it’s time to pack up and
go home. But mostly, life is slow and
savored here in our thin place – this place where heaven and earth converge for
us – because of its beauty, because of
the way it settles our souls, because of
the way it connects us to each other, because of the relationships it represents
on so many levels. It is the reason we
intentionally plan this time out a year in advance. Our friends think we’re crazy. First off, we can’t stay at our favorite place (Riversbend Lodge, thanks to Jeff Reed and his folks) without planning a year in advance.
Mostly – it’s because when we intentionally plan and intentionally set
our lives into a good rhythm and intentionally make choices about our time and
our family and our relationships – we are at our best. |
| Our teenage "osprey" loves to fish |
So that’s my takeaway from this place this year. A hope, an intentional planning for slow and
savored time with Nate as he heads into the last stretch of being under my
roof, an intentional planning of rhythm for our family as we enjoy these two
years of the journey and prepare to send our “baby bird” out into the
world. I liken it to the osprey that lives
over at Pete and Carol Reed’s place (our dear friends) down the way. Every year
she has babies up in her nest (you can watch this ritual live on the Reed’s
webcam every spring and summer). This year we got here late in
the season and those babies were pretty much teenagers. They hadn’t left the nest, but we watched
them stretching their wings and flying around – up and down and all around – while their
momma kept an eye on them from her nest perch. Those teenagers weren’t quite gone, but soon they would be.
I have some work to do because there are always bills to
pay. But I don’t have to say “yes” to
every contract. I can intentionally
choose the things that give me the space for good rhythm, time for good
connection with the family I love. I’ve
been a working mom all of Nate’s life.
Needless to say, I’ve discovered a few things. We CAN’T have it all. We CAN’T do it all. Us working moms can try and convince
ourselves of that, but it just isn’t true.
I know this because I have lived it.
As a working mom, I prioritize, I make decisions about how my time is
spent. As a family with two parents
working outside the home, we have come to the conclusion that both of us CANNOT be working like crazy people, be good friends to everyone, take Nate to 10
different activities (because God forbid he gets bored or needs to be sure to
have that one activity on his college application), and take on outside
projects/boards/community work (because we are overly concerned with our
reputations in our neighborhood). That
is not the life I want to live, nor is it one I would ever be very good at. And
it certainly short changes the most important people in my life. You can admire my resume all you want (and I
am proud of the work I do and have gotten to do), but my ultimate goal is a son
who still admires his parents for our hard work but mostly admires our commitment to a life
well-lived, well-balanced, rich in relationship, full in seeking God and moved by deep conversation that
changes our hearts and changes the world around us. And honestly, this isn't just good for him. It's the best thing for us - even when he has flown the coop.
 |
| Hanging with the teenage osprey before he leaves the nest! |
So there’s the goal, written out, committed to. We’ll re-work the family budget, we’ll
re-work the family calendar – but we’re committed to slow and savored these
next two years. Right now I’ve got a
teenage osprey spreading his wings and flying around the nest. Before I know it, he’ll be off on his own,
making his own way. So while he’s flying
around our nest and testing his ability to fly well, I will be here watching,
intentionally working through the projects I decide are right for us,
intentionally watching out for our family commitments, intentionally helping us
stay in our rhythm of slow and savored. Hold me to it.
