Magical Moments

Magic is made great by surprise.  And life is made great by moments that seem almost magical.  The most magical moments of our year here in Florida are those that took us by surprise.

Mother's Day 2013 started with breakfast in bed, balancing trays dangerously on my lap as children bounced around in anticipation of their hand-made treasures opened by mom.  At some point in the morning we decided to take a drive.  When 2/3 tiny heads began to bob in slumber we turned up the Mumford and Sons and cruised our usual routes of historic neighborhoods.  These "slumbering drives" are mini-dates for us.  We talk, we hold hands, we listen to music, we tackle decisions and problems put off to needy hands and night-time routines.  On this particular Sunday Tony pointed the van towards ocean and sand. 

We ended on Amelia Island after criss-crossing bridges over wetlands peppered with red kayaks.  Upon first arriving on the island we were greeted by the typical beach shops of souvenirs and frozen yogurt but even these were subdued and minimal.  As we drove the main drag shops and houses gave way to tropical forests and bike paths.  Where was the ocean?  Somewhere behind the forest? Somewhere beyond the bikers and palms?  It seemed  as though we were the only ones out that day.  Magic is feeling as though you are experiencing something truly unique.  We found public beach access after stopping to stock up on picnic fixings.  Soft pita bread, Gouda with its gritty texture and sharp bite, fancy sodas.  Later as we picnicked there would be sand on our fingers, caked to our thighs, sprinkled in our hair as we tore bread and sliced cheese with the handle of our plastic fork. 

 To arrive at the beach we walked on a path overgrown with trees and palms dwarfing us in size.  Tree branches snaked and curled overhead in beautiful tangled knots.  Mansions with plantation shutters and with as many rooms as a hotel stood silent to our right and left, partially hidden in the trees surrounding our path.  We arrived at the dunes surprised to find ocean in the midst of forest.  Shells were everywhere, whole and pure, crunched and broken.  Tiny shells smaller than a fingernail, giant shells bumpy with barnacles and black as night.  Later in the afternoon I would take a solitary walk as ocean lapped my feet and find a perfect sand dollar.  Magical.  Unexpected.

Magic gives us a break from reality.  And when reality is especially brutal.  Exhausting.  Overwhelming.  Those magical moments seem like a gift from God.  Like a gasp of fresh air after swimming underwater on a trek that never seems to end.  Across the English Channel.  As fast and as hard as your burning limbs can take you.  And at that moment when you feel as though your lungs may burst, you pop your head up and see the beautiful world around you.  You gasp and turn your tired body over to a float.  You rest, for a short time.  We floated on Amelia Island that day.  Then as the day ended we reluctantly flipped over, held our breath, put our heads down and continued the strenuous journey to the shore on the other side.

Our family is tired in a way we have not been before.  10 years of post-graduate training, a total of four moves, 100+ work weeks, and to-do lists never completed, whining in the back of our minds as we prioritize family-time.  Blogs and scrapbooks and Facebook and Twitter, they capture the magical moments in word and pictures.  We are fooled into believing these pictures are someones reality.  But the truth is, they are only snippets of the moments we find most precious.  Reality is found in the parking lot of the supermarket on the way home as the baby melts down from too much beach, too much sand, and throbbing teeth.  Reality is found in the perfect, delicate sand dollar shattered in the breast pocket from a child kicking while atop Daddy's shoulders.  Should we take more pictures, talk more of reality?  Maybe.  Or maybe we should view blogs and Facebook, not with envy of our friend's "perfect" life but with celebration of our friends' magical moments.  Capturing and sharing them brings a completeness.  It brings joy.  But let's not forget that reality lurks on the other side of the digital image.  

The skeptic might say magic is only a trick of the mind.  Sure.  Maybe.  But I don't mind being tricked in this way.  I don't mind believing for a few hours that my reality is endless time with family.  My head on his shoulders.  Their rosy cheeked faces and long limbs racing across the sand.  Cheese and bread and fancy cola and ice cream without worry of caloric intake.  Because reality can wait.  I will not worry about reality and ruin this moment.  I will bottle up this magic and open it on the screen when reality threatens to drown me.  If real-life looked like our magical moments, would they cease to feel magical?  Yes, I believe so. So we need brutal reality to make marvelous magic, don't we?

I am thankful for all those magical moments here in Florida that offered us a break from the reality of fellowship year.  When we reach the shoreline at the end of December, when our real-life waters become less choppy, I pray we will not miss the magical moments because we are less desperate for them.  May my Instagram feed and Facebook updates reflect the magic found in the everyday.  The bubbles blown in the backyard.  The taste of a savory dish.  The quiet moments of naps and reading and flowers in a vase.  Let's capture them all, those magical moments.  And let's rejoice with our friends, not envy them.  They are simultaneously gasping and celebrating as they post their own magical moments.

 via here

The Marriage Box

This one is for you, my husband of eleven years, my friend of over twenty.  We spoke last night over tea and coffee, then strolled as we often do.  There's an ease with which we date and interact, now married for over a decade.  There's comfort in our nightly routine, a security in where we stand.

But in the midst of this tropical storm that is fellowship and Florida we are tempted to forget that the routine will return.  That someday we will meet each other again amongst the everyday family togetherness that characterizes Saturdays at home. In the backyard sodding new grass.  In Whole Foods choosing crisp, fresh ingredients for our evening meal.  In the park on a blanket, our kids running crazy all around.  I will meet you again in the mundane that makes a family.

In the mean-time here's a little reminder of the weekend that was anything but ordinary.  This weekend filled The Marriage Box and I've been drawing from the memories ever since.  Remember the words of the pastor on our wedding day?

Marriage is not a well from which you can draw endless joy and satisfaction.  Marriage is more like a box.  A box you must fill with happy memories when things are going well.  If you have filled your marriage box with loving words and happy memories then it will sustain you when life gets tough. 

 

Life feels strained now with 12 hour surgeries and book chapters and research articles and dictations and hours and days away from home.  But we have completed 3 months, only 9 months to go.  Upon completion of this fellowship it will be time to fill The Marriage Box again.  With Disney and RVing and picnics and parks.  With silly children and fancy dinners.  In the mean-time here are pictures from The Marriage Box.  They are the sustenance that will carry us through the coming months.

 

{Breakfast at Niki's West.  Remember the circle of life we saw there?  The older gentleman eating alone?}

 

{Walking slowly.}

 

 {Cheese and salad plates.  Warm sunshine with no agenda.}

 



 

 {On the balcony reading short stories aloud.  Bagpipes and weddings.}

{A delicious breakfast you prepared.  Only a few more hours together.}

 

{Returning home with The Marriage Box overflowing with memories.}

 

 In our eleven years together we have worked at filling The Marriage Box with weekends away as a couple and weekends away as a family.  The Marriage Box is of utmost importance but I would propose a sister view to The Marriage Box - The Marriage Tree. 

Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being "in love" which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossoms had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two. (St. Augustine)



 

The Marriage Box is filled during times of peace and ease.  The Marriage Tree is cultivated during times of difficulty and busyness.  Florida is the time of The Marriage Tree.  The pretty blossoms are falling from our tree and what is left is toil amongst the everyday.  But we will find, at the end of this year, the year of The Marriage Tree, that "we are one tree and not two," because while we were distracted by work and life our "roots grew towards each other underground."

 

Here's to the year of The Marriage Tree, my love.  Fitting that our backyard contains this magnificent Oak.  As we swing our children underneath its branches, let's remember the roots growing underground, ever intertwining. 

 

 





Taking One Day at a Time

My grandmother offered sage advice every year on the first day of school.  After my brothers and I posed for the annual “first day of school” picture we walked towards our family Suburban and past my grandmother sitting on the front porch.  She would stop us and ask for a kiss before we left.  Then she would look us straight in the eye, usually while holding one of our hands, and say with great sincerity, “I hope you have a wonderful school year.  Remember, do what you are supposed to do each day and you will not get behind.”  It was practical advice, encouraging achievement and hard work.  I found the admonition to be rather odd.  There were so many other things to warn us about – peer pressure, moral integrity.  It strayed from the usual warnings to “mind our manners” and “be sweet.”  But every year, without fail, she counseled us to never get behind in our school work. 

Her advice and my response are prime examples of wisdom wasted on the young.  Only now, in my early 30’s, am I able to appreciate and strive to follow her counsel.  Never in all my years has this advice been more practical than now.  For you see, there are big things going on in the Morlandt house and choosing to bite off one task at a time is saving me from being eaten alive by all there is to do.

First, we are adjusting to Sophia attending school 5 days a week.  She started preschool at one of our local elementary schools.  This is a fantastic program that partners typically developing children with disabled children.  Evening meals now include lively discussions about magic ears (cochlear implants) and strollers have turned into wheelchairs overnight.  What a blessing to be a part of this unique preschool.  Sophia has to be there by 8:20 so leisurely mornings have turned into a highly coordinated dance to get out the door by 7:55. 

 

{First day of Preschool!}

Vincent attends Mother’s Day Out two days a week at a small, local church that reminds me of home. 

{Vincent on his first day of Mother's Day Out}

Packed lunches are a new part of our routine and I can be found each evening standing over a mountain of baggies containing grapes, lunch meat, cheese, pretzels, goldfish, and cups of yogurt.  When I’m finished packing the lunches and placing them in the refrigerator there must be a thorough cleaning of the counters BECAUSE….

Our house is now on the market and I try to leave the house “show ready” each morning.  This means I wake up and make all the beds, pick up clothes, stray toys, and place each dirty dish in dishwasher.  As I work, my grandmother’s words echo in my mind, “Do what you are supposed to do each day and you will never get behind.”  So for the first time in my life I am performing household chores on a daily, routine basis.  2 loads of laundry a day.  Wipe the counters each evening.  All toys put away before the small ones climb into bed.  Sink empty as the sun sets.  Dishwasher humming as I finally crawl beneath the covers.  And when we awake in the morning?  The house is orderly, fresh, and ready for a new day.  Why haven’t I been doing this all along?  Maybe because there is equal truth in the saying, “Cleaning with kids is like brushing your teeth while eating Oreos.” When small children are involved, keeping house can be quite the discouraging task.

Serenity is found in an orderly home.  Only now that I’m forced to keep my house in order am I reaping the benefit of the daily discipline I was admonished to cultivate by my grandmother all those years ago.  So when I survey all that is set to occur in the next four months including the arrival of baby #3, potential selling of our house, a move to a new city (more on that to come), and the changes that come with both kids in school I attempt to channel my inner “grandmother,” checking one thing off my list each day. 

{Deep cleaning one set of blinds a day....}

I’m broadening my grandmother's wisdom to include limiting my worry each day.  I ration my mind’s wanderings to only those things that need to be decided or done that day.  When I allow my thoughts to encompass all our current “what if’s,” I quickly become overwhelmed and accomplish nothing.  A powerful admonition comes to mind and I cling to it now, “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.  Each day has enough trouble of its own.”  (Matthew 6:34).  As I type I envision laying my head right there on My Father’s lap, allowing him to smooth back my hair and whisper those words.  And when a lump rises in my throat He’ll turn my chin to meet His eyes.  He’ll lean in and with a gentle smile say, “Sarah, are not two sparrows sold for a penny?  Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father.  And Sarah, even the very hairs of your head are all numbered.  So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.” (Matthew 10:29-31).  Trusting Him this day and thanking Him for the wisdom imparted so many years ago to a brace-faced, immature girl by her loving grandmother.  “Remember Sarah, do what you are supposed to do each day and you will not get behind.”  One box a day.  Two lunches each evening.  One set of blinds each morning.  One task at a time and it will all get accomplished.  And for those things completely out of my control, trusting Him each day....

5 Minute Friday - See

There are days I cannot see over the mountain of dishes that fill my sink.  Past the peaks of clothes that balance precariously on top of the washer and dryer.  I cannot see past the repetitive corrections and lessons that need to be taught over and over.  Past the Thomas trains scattered over the floor that pierce my bare feet on the way to the laundry hamper to grab more clothes for the next load.  Cannot see past the 15 years of higher education.  Cannot see past this next night on call.  Cannot see past the next unknown.

Can I just muster the strength to lift my head?  Can I strain my neck to peer over the mountains of clothes, toys, dishes, and towels that obstruct the view?  Will this work in the fields of motherhood and residency reap a bountiful harvest someday?  And I know the answer before I ask the question.  We are guaranteed nothing but His presence, His peace.  But I still like to imagine what might lie over the heap of tediousness.  Holidays with children, their spouses, and grandchildren.  Matriarch and Patriarch standing in the kitchen taking it all in.  Their children - secure, loved, loving, and contributing – in right relationship with one another.  A career - patriarch grey, operating, teaching - challenging his students - much loved by faculty, students, and patients.  Matriarch -  home bustling with people, warm tea, hot coffee, books, and a home orderly and welcoming.  It is the dream, the hope that keeps us moving forward.  And the promises – that we are never alone, that all is but passing and all can be used for His good, that He sees the desires of our hearts.

******

What comes to your mind when you read the word, "see."  Will you write about it for 5 minutes and link up over at gypsymama?

Thanksgiving.

In the spirit of "catching up" on all life's happenings, here are a few pictures from our Thanksgiving weekend. 


My heart is truly full of "thanks" for our Thanksgiving weekend.  Tony had 3 full days off, and as our fellow residents can tell you, this is RARE!  We relished the time and used it for both fun and function....
First on the agenda were pictures for our 2011 Christmas card:

 

{My mom's Christmas card picture (we took this after church on Sunday).  The kiddos are wearing the hats and sweaters she knitted.}

We celebrated Thanksgiving at my mom's with these dear friends....

{Lunch was followed by a game of kick ball.}

{Turkey+Kickball = Tired little boy}

On Friday we took advantage of the beautiful weather and went for a walk around the neighborhood.

{Of course a stop at our local coffee shop was a must.  A chocolate cake pop was Vin's choice.}

{Hot chocolate because the little man LOVES chocolate....}

{A cupcake was Sophia's choice}

{While I, in a rather predictable move, chose a non-fat, sugar free vanilla latte.}



{From the coffee shop we headed to one of our neighborhood playgrounds.  Sophia has a radar for stray cats.}

{Watch out - daredevil driver at the wheel!}

{There's a dragon in the playhouse!}

{Peek-A-}

{BOO!}

Saturday was our work day.  We set up the Christmas tree and outside decorations.  We went to Hobby Lobby no less than 3 times during Thanksgiving weekend.  As residents, working around the house together is a luxury we do not take for granted.



{Every year the houses along our street place Christmas trees with white lights on the front lawns.  When people travel our street at night during the Christmas season they are surrounded by a trail of beautiful white light trees.}

{Putting on the white lights}

{A special memory - reading and coloring by the lit up tree}

{Inside to decorate our Christmas tree.  Notice the wardrobe change.  Sophia insists that decorating the beautiful tree requires her prettiest dress :)}



{Hot chocolate again anyone?}

{Did I mention he loves chocolate?!?!?}

I am slowly back-tracking through our events this winter and fall.  I will be all caught up when I finally post about our summer trip to Texas!