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Dirty napkins, homework packets, sticky jam spots,
markers, crumbs around my reading pile,
I try to focus on pages, but eyes
keep finding mess in the periphery.
No time to clean, only a few minutes to do this reading,
but little girl me keeps tugging at my sleeve,
no real care to order, the checklist,
she wants to play,
and grownup me senses the nudge of the mysterious yes.
I brush crumbs to the floor, wipe goo with a rag,
pile up all manner of stuff onto another table
out of sight.
Pull a plump ceramic bird from the drawer,
light a candle, pluck flowers from a wilting arrangement,
place them in a green glass bottle that catches light.
So easy and beautiful,
and it takes all of three minutes,
and I sigh, happy.
_______
I walk outside into the fall air and ask God to meet me today,
in delight and wonder,
pray for kid eyes to see,
and the gold leaves wink against blue sky, and the branches swoop
to greet me, to hold my hand,
cup my face, give a high five, and I’m smiling.
Breeze moves like breath and the steady sun warms
my face, my feet pound on sidewalk, my heart beats
assured.
_______
I’m holding not-enoughs and what-nexts, spinning
worries like ceramic plates,
and I do not have time to dance when I’ve got all these plates,
and those still in the sink,
but I go.
Without knowing, I’m half an hour early to the school gym,
and so is my neighbor, and we talk,
and I let myself open as plates slow.
I tell how I’m struggling to find my new rhythm,
and she is gracious, and I release more,
tell her (and me) that I hadn’t realized until just then
how I was clenching what’s not mine
to control.
I feel the music through worn soles of my tennis shoes,
up into my dangly arms,
and my head clears,
and I’m following the teacher across the floor,
hips swaying, hands opening to circle me,
beholding the beauty of how we all dance.
I let go with the sweat that streams
down my face, wets my hair.
I am a child,
enjoying the miracle of my own skin,
lungs that fill and empty,
limbs that remember dance in their fibers,
find their way to twirl again.
I receive the moment,
wonderstruck by gift,
this grace,
head scarves, tennis shoes
and yoga pants,
shades of brown and white skin,
all of us breathing air and
life, joy
beats coursing through the grade school gym,
and I’m a loved woman
and a child again.
________
This post is inspired by Laura Boggess’ new book, “Playdates with God: Having a Childlike Faith in a Grown-up World.” Friends, I highly recommend this book! As I savor Laura’s journey to reclaim her intimate relationship with God through the eyes of imagination, love and childlike faith, my own eyes are being opened to God’s call to come away and play — to know joy even in the midst of this very grown-up world. The response has been so great to this book because heavy and hard press in on every side, and we know we need joy, and sometimes we don’t know how to see it or capture it in the midst of all the other stuff. So while Amazon is temporarily out of stock, you can order “Playdates” at Barnes & Noble or Hearts and Minds Books (“who ship everywhere and provide wonderful service,” says the author herself).
Now, the giveaway…
You can enter to win a free copy of “Playdates with God: Having a Childlike Faith in a Grown-up World” by leaving a comment saying why you’d like a copy of Laura’s new book. How might you benefit from reconnecting (or connecting for the first time) with your own childlike faith? Do you recognize your own need for play? Have you found a way to incorporate wonder into your life? I will announce the winner — plucked from the hat or bowl by one of my girls — next week. Stay tuned!
Connecting through the power of stories written, spoken and lived
Just this, Ashley: “…enjoying the miracle of my own skin,
lungs that fill and empty,
limbs that remember dance in their fibers,
find their way to twirl again.”
Yes! Beautiful. Thank you, sweet friend, for inspiring me today.
Thank you, dear Laura. Your book is truly an inspiration, and I’ve loved the gift of growing to know you better through it.
As busy moms don’t we always live in the tension between doing and being…so much to have to do, so little time to simply ‘be’. I love how you removed the clutter out of sight & lit a candle, decorated the spot with a simple few stems of flowers..how easy, yet I never think to do that for myself! Thanks for inspiring me :O) Your descriptions of not-enough’s and what next’s …and worries spinning… how those things convince us that we don’t have enough time to dance or to live ‘rest’ while we are trying to balance them. But how much more we need to live it then, and let God show us how to balance what we need to & let go of the other things. Your word pictures are stunningly beautiful, like high definition Ashley !!..they make me feel more relaxed just reading them! Any words that draw us closer to the heart of a loving Father who is no task master but delights in us being like a child before Him are what we all need as busy moms, no matter the age of our children.Bless you…and keep dancing!
Kim, truly I want to bottle up all this wisdom in your comment and pour it out drop by drop. Thank you so much for your words. Praying for us both — that we would know the love and direction of the Father who is not task master and knows exactly what we (and they) need. Bless you as you live in the tension of all the doing and being. Sending love to you today.
Did I miss an opportunity to dance at the school gym with you?! A tragedy for sure… Love the image of yourself here, Ashley!
ZUMBA, Barb! Come join us on a Wednesday night when you’re not working. 6-7 and free. A total joy, really. And I won’t poke you in the eye this time! :-)
I hadn’t realized until just then
how I was clenching what’s not mine
to control. — I’m quite sure this would be my perfect epitaph…
Oh, Dee Dee. I hear your heart here so loud and clear. I’m with you, sister.
Love your imagery and that you danced last night. Life…such a beautiful mix.
Thanks, friend. Come join me sometime! A beautiful mix is right.
I’d LOVE a copy of Laura’s book! It’s on my wish list! I’m finding that lately, I’m mighty lost in my head. I have good things going on and lots of children needing me and the time to simply enjoy life is just the leftover minutes from full days.
Gorgeous imagery!
I know you know a lot about leftover minutes with all the hats you wear and plates you spin. Praying that we’d feast on the full meal today. Love you, friend.
“I’m holding not-enoughs and what-nexts, spinning worries like ceramic plates, and I do not have time to dance when I’ve got all these plates, and those still in the sink, but I go.”
You so beautifully describe this juggle we call life. Finding a way to appreciate the little things, savor a moment, be awed, be silly, is to be free. That freedom of movement in dance is just what you needed-so glad that’s what you got. I’m longing for these moments of feeling free in the muck of must-do’s and should-have-dones. Tonight, the laundry and dishes will wait while the family and I cheer on the Giants in absolute freedom! I think I may even bust out the Pom Poms tonight! :)
I long for those moments, too, honey. Praying for eyes to see and capture them when they present themselves…right in front of me. Here’s to experiencing true FREEDOM and the Giants as World Series champs! :-) Your pom pons were mighty effective! Love you so much, sissy.
If the child in us ever truly was – (and she was!) – then child in us IS and knows and can teach us again how to play and dance and twirl arms and talk silly and cavort with trees. Your poem shimmers with all that it is to be a child in her body, and Ash I loved it! And thank you for this delicious gulp of fresh!!!
Thank you, Mama. I am sure trying to learn from that little girl. Poetry so often helps me find her, too, because she’s just so unpredictable there. :-) I love you.
Love this Ashley and so there with you. My little child wins out more often than my grown-up self these days. I move a lot of piles and make more room for play over ad over again. So glad you make time to play with God! <3
Reading your words here made me so happy, Kelly. You have such a beautiful childlike spirit about you, friend. It was one of the first things I noticed when I met you in person at the Faith and Culture Writers conference. Thank you for being such a vivid example of joy. Love you, lady.
Oh girlie – I love this! I always love when you share poetry here! Of course, all of your words form poetry, my friend! I would love this book… after a silent summer, I would love to play with God again… and after writing 31 days of Resting in Him – I could use some new ideas on play! Love you!
When I read about and saw pictures of your room re-design this morning, it made me think of how much play is in the process of creativity…allowing your muse and joy to lead the way. I do so hope you find more moments of free play, especially after all your hard 31 days work! xoxo
Reading your poetry, so alive with imagery – “this delicious gulp of fresh” (as your mama said above) – is bringing me to a place of remembrance. I know this place of childlikeness that you flesh out here – dancing, swaying, pushing, pulling, releasing, filled with wonder, joy – and yet I’ve been in a different place recently, longing for these moments. This paradox of becoming like a child again as we grow in age is one of the most beautiful to me, and also so easy to dismiss and hurry past at our grown up paces of life with grown up weights of burden. Thank you for this, love. For helping me to pause.
Oh! And I would love Laura’s book, too, one way or another… ;-)
:-)
You’ve said it so well here, my friend. I loved a piece you wrote some time ago about your childhood imagination…it brought me there, to a place of remembrance and longing. And yes, as an adult, I find myself both wanting to recapture childlike freedom and know it in a way I didn’t back then. I love you, Amber.
Ashley, these words are so wonderful,
“I’m holding not-enoughs and what-nexts, spinning
worries like ceramic plates,
and I do not have time to dance when I’ve got all these plates,
and those still in the sink,
but I go.”
All the ways we tell the Lord, ‘Wait…’ And He says, “I’ll be here when you come.”
“I’ll be here when you come.” Amen, Jody! Thank you for that picture today.
Ashley,
I love how your put this into words:
“I’m holding not-enoughs and what-nexts, spinning
worries like ceramic plates,
and I do not have time to dance when I’ve got all these plates,
and those still in the sink,
but I go.”
oh, yes, those lines run through this little head many times a day…
i wonder how many dances i’ve missed?
I hear you, dear. Good thing that more dances always await us! I love you.
i only wish I were in class with you Ashley. I try to be conscious about making time for playdates, especially playdates with friends. love the poem and the feelng it’s awakened.
Thank you, Lisha. I also make space for playdates with friends…they are a lifeline. I have to say I would love to simply WATCH your beautiful dancing, and then after a while I’d gain my confidence, take a deep breath and join you on the floor…and we’d twirl in childlike joy together. xoxo
Mmmmm. This post was just… delicious. I hope that doesn’t sound cheesy but GOSH I just loved it. You drew me in. I was walking with you, watching you dance. This made me love you more, and I didn’t know that was possible. :)
And… I’d love to have this book. I quite often find a need to not take myself so seriously — to enjoy Jesus — lightheartedly — in my day-to-day more.
Love you, my friend!
Lightheartedness can be hard for us deep thinker/feeler types, right? You beautiful friend…someday we’ll meet face to face…there will be dancing then for sure! I love you.
Just beautiful, lady. Refreshing words after a long day. Thank you for that. This sounds like a lovely book!
Always so glad to see you here, Marcy. I do hope you get your hands on a copy of “Playdates.” It is wonderful! Much love to you today.