The Truth Is This.

 Most of the time, I think I have this whole life thing (kinda sorta) figured out.  But really, when it comes down to the minute-to-minute living, to those tiny portions that sum the whole?  There I have to admit that I have no idea what I'm doing.  I am mostly making things up as I go along. I think we all are.

The more I learn about people- to really understand them what makes them tick, to really get them on a gut level- it's plain to me that everyone holds a story that will break your heart.  Some carry it around in their back pockets, throwing it out for casual dissection.  They toss their story on the table, right next to their keys and coat, then wander off and leave you to riffle awkwardly through the pages.  Others tiptoe carefully, cradling their heartbreak in cupped palms, hoping no one gets close enough to notice the way their shoulders are starting to slouch, how their hands tremble at the weight.   I'm not sure into which category I fall.  Perhaps we all shift and stumble across them both.   

I used to think I knew a lot about a lot of things, but now I realize that I know a little about a lot of things and a lot about a few things and absolutely nothing about many things.  A lot of what I thought I knew has turned out to be false, and much of what I think I know today could be proven wrong tomorrow.  Facts are usually fluid and when it comes right down to it, it's all a matter of perception anyway.  

Nothing is wasted.  Every smile. Every tear. Every whispered longing. Every answered call. Every sin. Every victory. Every kindness.  Every moment of bravery.  Every simple stretch of quiet.  Every rush of adrenaline.  Every regret.  Every truth.  Every mistake.  Every triumph. They all add up to something beautiful, something uniquely yours.   Nothing is wasted.  It all matters. 

Lessons learned from 35

It always happens in September.  The leaves change, the kids go back to school, and I add another spin around the sun to my age.  Fall makes me contemplative, and my birthday seems to make me even more so as I get older.  Lately, I've been reflecting on what I've learned from the past year.  What I want to keep with me as I move into the next year and what needs to go. 

This past year has been a little sleepy in some ways, but has also contained some really big, really important days.  There have been moments that have been game-changers, that altered the course of every part of my life, and there have been a thousand more that simply coasted on the energy created from daily living.   I've made a few big scary leaps into new areas of my life, and I've shuffled my way, slowly and cautiously, towards others.   Such is the way of life, I guess, and as long as I keep moving forward, I'm good.

Still, there are a few ideas I've really had hammered into me this year, lessons I've learned over and over again in various forms and through various means.  And a different lesson I learned a while ago is that when things keeps showing up, it's probably a good idea to pay attention.  So- the lessons that kept showing up this past year - here goes:


**Simply put, I must avoid the drama queens.  Although my caretaker tendencies urge me to jump in and fix/help/comfort/problem solve,  I am SO MUCH happier and balanced when I listen to my gut, cut and run.

**Although it might cost me treasured friendships, although it might make me rather unpopular in some circles, I will never regret telling my truth.  Never.

**My priorities are just that - MINE.  They don't need to fall in line with anything other than what I need and want and I don't need to justify or explain them. 

**It's worth mourning relationships as a way to bring closure, but it's not worth living in the "what ifs" and "whys."  It's just not. 

**It's ok to be incredibly grateful for all that I have, for all the abundance in my life and to still ache for the few things my whole soul desires.  The dichotomy is natural and good, and the longer and stronger the aches burn, the more effectively they function as a refiner's fire.  I know what it is I want. 

**Good things come to those who wait -  Good things come to those who work and strive and plan and keep trying.  (I stole this from Pinterest, but it's so very true.)

Pretty simple, right? 

Yeah-it seems that way - even to me - but those lessons have been hard earned, paid for with work and sweat and grace and faith. This past year required a lot of me - it forced me to define who I am, what I believe and what I want for my life.  It wasn't easy, but it's been good.   Real and good.

photo by Amy Gretchen.  I love how she sees the world.

And now- onwards and upwards, right? 

36 is waiting and I still have a lot of living (and loving and learning) to do.

Coming Home

Yes, Disneyland was fun, fun, fun! (photos from that coming soon)

Still, the small amount of time we spent on the beach,

the waves,
the sand,
the water,
the discoveries,
the games,
the shells,
the pure sense of openness and freedom I always find by the sea...

This was my favorite hour of an amazing weekend.

 

How motherhood looks to me

How motherhood looks today

I did not expect my turn at motherhood to look like it does. First, I imagined raising a large, chaotic family, complete with dogs and pranks and soccer games, then I imagined growing old with no children at all. I didn't expect to be a single mother. I didn't expect to only have one child. I'm not complaining, not at all, because this version of motherhood is very good to me. It's full of a loving, supportive family who backs me up 100% and so many friends who provide all the light and love I could ask for. I make a good living and I'm able to find a way to do the things I want to do and be who I want to be. I get some time for myself and really enjoy the time I have with my kiddo. This version of motherhood might not be the easiest path, but I cherish the lessons learned, the love shared and the strength gained. No, I can't complain about how my life looks. And being a mother is definitely the best thing about it.

It still surprises me how tender I feel about being a mother. It still catches me off guard when my emotions well to the surface easily and with little notice. It still amazes me when I remember feeling her shift and move inside of me, knowing that I was carrying a little girl who would someday grow up and carry her own child. It still takes my breath away when I see how clearly she is her own person, and yet how like me she is. I still feel like she is my heart walking around outside of my body. I don't expect that this awe will ever really go away.

Becoming a mother changed me in ways that are hard to describe. I never imagined that one tiny child would hold the key to opening a well of love so deep, so strong, so intense that it would so completely change how my life looked and who I was. I never imagined it, and yet I would not do one single thing differently. I'm proud of who she is becoming and I'm proud that some of her is the product of who I am. I'm proud of who I am, and of the qualities I've adopted and strengthened in this phase of my life. I'm so grateful to live this life, to have this child, to be this mother. On this day, when we celebrate the mother's in our lives, I'm so thankful that this is how motherhood looks to me. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Happy Mother's Day!

Grateful for my tribe

(Note: This post was supposed to go up yesterday, but apparently Blogger hates me. So you'll be getting two posts today.)

Having a tribe of women surround me (both physically and virtually) is a key element in living the best life I can. These women are my rocks, my mainstays, and I think of them as family.

They offer love, support and a safe place to land.
They listen to me, really hear me, and understand on a level that is straight from their hearts.
They push me to go further, go faster, and do my best, always encouraging me to push my limits to find what I have inside of me.
They laugh with me and often at me (it's ok, I do some pretty funny stuff).
They have stood with me in grief and held my hand in sorrow, then helped me pick up the pieces and move on.
They let me be exactly who I am, with all my strengths and my faults and my accomplishments and my mistakes, and they remind me that no matter what, I am enough.

My world is so much bigger, so much brighter, because of the friendships I have. For these women, for these relationships, for the moments of joy they bring to my life, I am grateful.

(I don't have pics of everyone I wanted to include here, but please know that there are many people who's photo *should* be here. I'm making it a goal to get photos of all my friends.)

Tiny little moments

You know those moments? Those precious, ordinary scraps of time that make a lasting impression on your heart? That remind you of how sweet your life is or show you that you already have everything you need?

I try to hold these moments close, cradled as carefully as if I were carrying a glass globe or a jar full of fireflies. They are the moments that fill me up, that offer rest and comfort when my soul is weary, my body is exhausted, and my mind is tired with the minutiae of being an adult.

This is one of my precious moments:
Photo by Jenica
Snuggled into the couch at the home of dear friends who have become family, a place where both my little one and I are absorbed into the cheerful, comfortable chaos. Little girls piled willy-nilly on my lap, their tiny arms wrapped around my neck and sweet little cheeks cuddled into my shoulders. My voice bringing to life the words someone else has written, while miniature voices murmur in wonder and awe, breathing small sighs of contentment as they contemplate a world of unicorns and rainbows.

(Thanks, Jenica, for capturing this moment.)

Where I've been

"for whatever we lost (like a you or a me)
it' s always ourselves we find by the sea"
- e e cummings
I don't yet have the words to describe
how lovely,
how fulfilling,
how simply breathtaking
this past week has been.
So, in the place of my words,
I'll start with some images
and the words from my favorite poet.


Truly, it was magical.

Nag's Head, North Carolina

Five For Friday -- (truths)

completely irrelevant to this post, but another truth

This week has found me in my own head a lot; thinking about the consistencies and contradictions that I see right before me, and trying to sort the facts from the fiction in some of the stories I tell myself. I've noticed a few repetitive themes in many of the thoughts swirling around in my mind, and when I did some journaling exercises to distill the many thoughts and themes down into something manageable, five truths kept emerging, over and over again.

1. My life is chock-full of really amazing people. It's absolutely filled to the brim with friends and family who love me, who love Riley, who support me no matter what, who have my back in all circumstances. I am so very lucky to have these people in my life, and so blessed to be able to give back to them in some small way. These wonderful people make me the wealthiest of women in all the ways that matter.

2. I want to do the best job I can as a mother, and I believe that if I can raise my daughter to be accepting of others, to be tolerant of differences, to think about things critically, to trust in herself, to notice the beauty in in the everyday, and to love with a deep, wide and open heart, I have done my job and done it well. The only way I can teach her these things is to lead by example. I guess I have my work cut out for me.

3. It's ok to question. It's ok to wonder. It's ok to think deeply about things instead of blindly following the status quo. It's ok to speak out and speak up and keep asking questions until the questions are answered and the understanding begins to flow. This is how progress occurs and how changes are made. To do all of these things is part of who I am. I like who i am, and I like this about me. Those who don't can just take a flying leap, as far as I am concerned.

4. There is something powerful in being heard, in being seen, in being touched, in being understood. We all need this. Regardless of who we are, regardless of the path we are on, we all need this.

5. Most of us get through the day by trying to do the best we can with what we have. Life gets a whole lot easier when this truth replaces any judgment that was in the way.

Weekend at home

As I was driving back to Salt Lake City today after a relaxing weekend with family, I spent some time reflecting on why it is that I always feel incredibly centered and very peaceful after time in Idaho.

It might be the traffic we encounter: Or maybe the people we spend our time with:

Or the scenery we pass by, evidence of hard work and simple existence:
It could be the way I spent my Saturday morning:
Or the way we celebrated Saturday night:


Whatever it is, I've learned not to question it. When my whole heart and soul is longing for somewhere that is comfortable, that is easy, that is gentle and that is healing...this is where I go.

This is home.

Our Birthday Photos

We've made it a tradition to get photos done for our mutual birthday and each year, Carrie, our amazing and mega-talented friend has taken them for us. This year was no exception. She has a way with Riley and manages to get her to open up and be the funny, dynamic kid she is. I think Carrie sets up such fun and creative shoots. I'm so pleased with how they turned out this year. Take a look.

"Picnik Show"

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Remembering my Grandmother (Gratitude Friday)

Grandma Darlene meets Riley for the first time Sept. 2007

The end of August traditionally marks the end of a season, when we put away the fun and games of summer and focus on the demands that autumn brings. This year, I have found another ending that August will always mark for my family.

My grandmother died yesterday.

My grandma was 75 years old, and her health had been declining for a while. Her passing wasn't unexpected, and while that may help to absorb some of the shock, it does little to absorb the loss. I have been sitting with the knowledge that her time was close for about a week, and while I am saddened for the grief my family is feeling, I am also very relieved that she went peacefully and happy that we are all choosing to remember the good things about a wonderful woman.

I've spent a lot of time this past week recalling the little things I remember about her, trying to set her memory solidly in my head and in my heart so I can tell Riley about her someday. I recall, very vividly, an argument she and I had when I was 5 years old. My little sister had just been born and I had a Kindergarten sleigh-ride to attend. The only gloves that could be found were green with a black stripe and I was certain that they would clash with my pink coat. I was adamant about not wearing them, adamant to the point of dramatic wailing and crying and locking myself in the bathroom. My Grandma (a Wuthrich in every sense of the word) was just as adamant that I would get over myself, come out of the bathroom and wear the gloves. Hollering through the bathroom door, she said, "Amyanne. Wuthrich. (Note: use of my full name was never a good thing) The color of the gloves does not matter. The sleigh-ride is what matters. Now get out here RIGHT NOW!"

I came out, wore the gloves, and I still remember how much fun the sleigh-ride was, surrounded by the crisp December air. The spontaneous snowball fight that erupted afterward wouldn't have been possible without the gloves. She was right, the sleigh-ride was what mattered, and that lesson is something I still try to live by today. Experiences matter. The details are just, well...details.

My grandmother lived a full life. She married my grandpa at 15, in 1950, and they enjoyed 60 years together. And when I say "enjoy", I mean they bickered and bantered for much of the time, but it seemed to delight them both. They had 5 children, and more grandchildren and great-grandchildren than I can count. She lived to hunt, played a mean game of poker, and loved western movies. She was artistic and creative, and always concerned about her kids and grandkids. I can't remember her not reminding me to put on a jacket, even when it was 80 degrees outside.

She let people make their own way and live their life how they saw fit, accepting them as they came and she didn't interfere often. The only advice that I can remember her giving me on child-rearing was to make sure my daughter wore socks every day, advice she bestowed on the first day she met Riley (pictured above). While she may be dismayed to know that Riley rarely wears socks unless absolutely necessary, it was the other bit of wisdom she gave me that day that has really stuck with me. Riley was only about 10 days old, and already I was going through the process of filing for divorce. When my Dad and Grandfather left the room, she tugged on my arm and pulled me down right next to her. Cradling my daughter in her arms, she told me to remember that I was strong, that I could get through this, and that my baby and I would both be better for it. After all, she said, I was a "Wuthrich, and we both knew what that meant."

She was right. I knew what it meant then, and I know, even more, what it means now.

I think there is a little bit of her in me. Perhaps some of my grit comes from her, and I'm absolutely certain a large amount of my stubborness does. She was a woman who laughed loudly and often, wasn't afraid of speaking her mind, cussed when it was required (she understood that sometimes it was required), believed in hard work, and taught her children (who then taught me) that when something needs to be done, you get into gear and just do it. I'm proud to be her granddaughter and treasure the traits I have inherited from her and hope to pass them on to my daughter. She was truly a modern-day cowgirl, complete with spit and sass, and I love, love, LOVE that about her.

Seeing someone you love pass on is hard, even when you know it's a blessing for them. It isn't supposed to be easy but I've found that there are little gifts along the way, if you look for them. There is a certain courage in the fight to keep them here. There is a certain strength in the mourning, in a father letting his children see him cry. And there is a certain grace in the letting go.

Tonight, as I wait for my siblings to arrive, so we can honor our grandmother and put her to rest, I am grateful. Grateful to have had such a wonderful grandmother for almost 34 years, for the influence she had on me, and for helping me to grow into who I am. I am grateful for the good times, the many laughs, and the family she raised. I am grateful for my faith and my beliefs, that reassure me that there is more beyond this life. But mostly I am grateful for those little gifts that I have found along the way; for that certain strength of my father, who let me see him cry and that certain grace of my family, who chose to let her go. It's been a tough week, but for everything this experience has given me, I am grateful.

All in all, a great weekend.

My newest niece, Karlee Ann, made her debut on Friday afternoon (Yes, she's gorgeous and I'm madly in love with her). Riley and I spent the weekend in Idaho, helping out with the other girls, soaking in some quality family time, and enjoying the simple things with my sweet, silly, sassy, super-cute nieces.



There was some sprinkler running (wearing her "boo-tini")

And some s'more making.


And some porch sitting.

And some MAJOR giggling.

And lots of dancing.

And a little bit of grass rolling.

And a bit of piano playing.
It all added up to a whole lot of good times.