Last night as my daughter and I laid on the couch and watched the Bachelorette – I had this overwhelming feeling that everything was at peace. There was a contentment in my heart and a wholeness in my soul. (none of this had anything to do with the Bachelorette… who is as annoying as Hell)
The day had started like many others have in the last few months… running a couple miles, endlessly counting sit ups and wincing with each push up – all in an attempt to get in shape for the wedding of my step-daughter.
But around 10:30 as I embarked – things took a turn.
It was Monday which meant that Abby would be with us – but she was with her dad at his lakehouse and they weren’t coming home for the week… Sure, they offered to drive her home but I had no problem going to get her – just an hour away…
So, I packed a bag for the day – swimsuit, towel, etc and headed to my ex-husband’s lakehouse to enjoy some boating and swimming with his wife and their children – and of course the daughter we have together.
The thing is – this is NOT a big deal for us…
I don’t think of Keith and Carol as ex-anythings – we think of them as friends – really good friends.
We had lunch and got on the pontoon boat and anchored in the bay where Carol’s sister-in-law and nephew came to join us…and we floated in the water and played with the kids – and not one of us thought anything about it.
Well, I guess I do – but only because those moments I find myself catching my breath – taking in the amazing thing we created. Finding appreciation in what many consider completely insane.
No, it didn’t happen overnight but it did happen – and that is both unexpected and beautiful.
The kids went tubing and we stopped by Carol’s sister-in-law’s house and talked and eventually made it back to the house when Carol’s mom and more nieces and nephews came. And it wasn’t just “their” family – it was like an extension of our family. We know them all – see them at other family gatherings we hug and smile and laugh… and its good. It is healthy.
Abby and I could have stayed for lunch – heck – we were welcome to stay the night – but we needed to get home so we said our goodbyes…
The car ride was quiet – we were both tired…and as I looked at Abby I could only think – how little she understands. To her, a relationship like this is normal – seeing her parents and her step parents hang out isn’t odd. And, I guess that means we did a good job at accomplishing the extraordinary.
I think as I laid on the couch last night – I felt whole because our lives are whole. What was once perhaps considered broken and fragmented – is now seamlessly one. And it gives meaning to, “expect the unexpected.”
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Monday, July 11, 2011
Truths: A cabin up north
This past weekend we were up at our cabin. We are fortunate enough to both have a cabin up north in WI and to drive 2 ½ hours each way to get there. Five hours every weekend are spent in the car – time that would otherwise be used for maybe more productive things – or even just relaxing. But, it just seems that relaxing is never the same as it is at the cabin – up north.
I thought about that a lot this weekend. Why is folding laundry and making dinner so much more pleasant at the cabin? Doing dishes by hand, because we chose not to have a dishwasher just seems like part of the charm and not a complete waste of time.
Covering and uncovering the boat, hauling coolers down a flight of rock stairs, and spraying round-up in our gravel driveway are all amazingly fun.
What is it about a cabin that takes away the drudgery of every day life? Why is it so much simpler only 2 hours away from home?
Nothing seems to matter when we get there on Friday night. Our troubles seem to fade away the moment we pull into the driveway. We sleep in, we watch the hummingbirds and somehow we even take the time to lay in the hammock and watch the boats go by. When was the last time we laid in a hammock at home? (okay, we don’t have one at home – but even if we did – no one would be laying in it watching anything go by.)
There is a simplicity sitting on the ½ acre of land we own – a belief that its about living life in the present – and that is truly a blessing.
I couldn’t help but wonder what 170 miles does to separate us from this point of view. Why does driving away from home make us grateful for the days we are given. Why does leaving one of our driveways and pulling into another erase our cares?
Is there a way for us to feel like that in our own homes? I mean why can’t we live our whole lives with the philosophy we have on the weekends up north? Why not during the week in our hometowns?
If you are looking for an answer I don’t have one. Sorry.
I guess at home we pay the bills for the cabin (and the rest of our necessities). We attend meetings and some of us work. There is school and activities and neighbors… and I guess overall there are just expectations we find ourselves living up to. None of these things exist at the cabin. (yes, we do have neighbors and friends up there – but they seem to possess only one main quality – friendship without any strings attached. They are there when you need them – and non-existent when you hope to spend the day alone.)
But still… why is it okay for flip flops to pile at the door at the cabin, but one pair of shoes in the hallway at home makes my skin crawl? Why can friends walk into the cabin and see towels strewn across the sofas and I don’t care.
I guess, basically, why is it okay to really live up there and down here it is only okay to pretend to live like Martha Stewart? We are, obviously, capable of both.
One day, Bill and I hope to spend ½ the year up there and I ponder whether it will offer the same relaxation it does now when we are actually living there –paying the bills, belonging to groups and doing the dishes by hand every day. We are already talking that when that day comes, we are going to have to, somehow, create more space.
None the less, I am going to attempt to bring the cabin philosophy home. To take a deep breath and ignore the things that pull us away from the hammock (we don’t have at home.) To smile when I fold the 3rd basket of laundry and to say no to commitments I don’t enjoy.
We are lucky to have been given the opportunity to realize a different way of life – a slower pace and a change in zip code doesn’t have to change that.
Maybe I can even find a way to shut my eyes as the shoes pile up by the door?
I thought about that a lot this weekend. Why is folding laundry and making dinner so much more pleasant at the cabin? Doing dishes by hand, because we chose not to have a dishwasher just seems like part of the charm and not a complete waste of time.
Covering and uncovering the boat, hauling coolers down a flight of rock stairs, and spraying round-up in our gravel driveway are all amazingly fun.
What is it about a cabin that takes away the drudgery of every day life? Why is it so much simpler only 2 hours away from home?
Nothing seems to matter when we get there on Friday night. Our troubles seem to fade away the moment we pull into the driveway. We sleep in, we watch the hummingbirds and somehow we even take the time to lay in the hammock and watch the boats go by. When was the last time we laid in a hammock at home? (okay, we don’t have one at home – but even if we did – no one would be laying in it watching anything go by.)
There is a simplicity sitting on the ½ acre of land we own – a belief that its about living life in the present – and that is truly a blessing.
I couldn’t help but wonder what 170 miles does to separate us from this point of view. Why does driving away from home make us grateful for the days we are given. Why does leaving one of our driveways and pulling into another erase our cares?
Is there a way for us to feel like that in our own homes? I mean why can’t we live our whole lives with the philosophy we have on the weekends up north? Why not during the week in our hometowns?
If you are looking for an answer I don’t have one. Sorry.
I guess at home we pay the bills for the cabin (and the rest of our necessities). We attend meetings and some of us work. There is school and activities and neighbors… and I guess overall there are just expectations we find ourselves living up to. None of these things exist at the cabin. (yes, we do have neighbors and friends up there – but they seem to possess only one main quality – friendship without any strings attached. They are there when you need them – and non-existent when you hope to spend the day alone.)
But still… why is it okay for flip flops to pile at the door at the cabin, but one pair of shoes in the hallway at home makes my skin crawl? Why can friends walk into the cabin and see towels strewn across the sofas and I don’t care.
I guess, basically, why is it okay to really live up there and down here it is only okay to pretend to live like Martha Stewart? We are, obviously, capable of both.
One day, Bill and I hope to spend ½ the year up there and I ponder whether it will offer the same relaxation it does now when we are actually living there –paying the bills, belonging to groups and doing the dishes by hand every day. We are already talking that when that day comes, we are going to have to, somehow, create more space.
None the less, I am going to attempt to bring the cabin philosophy home. To take a deep breath and ignore the things that pull us away from the hammock (we don’t have at home.) To smile when I fold the 3rd basket of laundry and to say no to commitments I don’t enjoy.
We are lucky to have been given the opportunity to realize a different way of life – a slower pace and a change in zip code doesn’t have to change that.
Maybe I can even find a way to shut my eyes as the shoes pile up by the door?
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