This Phase

(I wrote this in my journal this morning)

I'm sitting on the wall between the garage and the dog's yard, next to the area that will become my flower garden when I become a woman who gardens. I'm out here eating my breakfast and drinking my chai in the blue pottery mug because:

a) it's a beautiful morning-summer weather perfection, with the birds atwitter, low humidity, a light breeze and sunlight filtering through the May-green trees.

b) Declan's friend Seana is asleep on the couch-bed.

and

c) When I tried to let Zee sleep in (he's awake now, anyway) by getting up to take the dogs out, I noticed that the orange tiger lilies are in bloom and I wanted to spend some time with them. I brought my fiestaware bowl out and discovered that the orange of my bowl and the orange of my journal are shades of the lilies. How nice; now my morning cereal will remind me of the lilies abloom, long after their blooms are spent.

I've been thinking about how I have rarely ever, in my whole life, been content where I am. I have spent almost my entire life wishing it away by anticipating the next phase.

When I was a child, I could not wait to be a teenager. I can distinctly remember sitting in my classroom in 6th grade counting how long it would be until I was 16 and could drop out of school (in my defense, I hated school because I frequently failed and was subject to great humiliation, which is as good a reason to "escape" in my head as any I could imagine). When I was a teenager, I couldn't wait to be an adult and have my own apartment. When I had an apartment, I couldn't wait to be married. When I got married, I couldn't wait to have children. When I had a child (a foster son, Timbo), I couldn't wait to end that marriage. And etc., up to the present.

Here I am, 42, married to a wonderful man, with 3 amazing sons, a decent house, all my needs met and many of my wants, and, day-to-day, I can't wait to get to the next phase so I can begin to live my real life. WTF?! If this isn't my real life, who's is it? I chose to marry Hammy. I chose to have each of my wonderful children. I encouraged them to be outspoken individuals (and drummers, to boot!). I found this crazy little house and talked Hammy into buying it. I decide each day that I'd rather do about anything than clean, so I've no one to blame but myself for the clutter and mess. Our house is disorganized, chaotic and noisy. I am assaulted by sound and demands almost constantly. But I created it. And it's wrong of me to wish it all away. This is my real life. Someday it will be gone and I will miss it as much as I long to see Timbo, probably more.

by Chen Baiyi

Each day of my life is sacred, a gift from the Divine. I don't treat it as such. I act as though each day, each hour, each moment is something I must endure until something changes and things begin to go my way. How utterly selfish. My children are a beautiful, unique gift. Yes, I can't wait to see them grow up because I know they are gong to become interesting and dynamic adults and I look forward to knowing them then. But yes, I can surely wait for them to grow up because I lose

who they are at this moment. I miss each phase that has already passed with each of them and I know I was too busy, too self-centered to fully appreciate the day-to-day joy each one brought to my world.

by Russell duPont

I am going to try to slow my desires down, to live in and savor each moment and appreciate it for what it is: A divine gift.

Today, we're going to a park for a luau potluck to celebrate the 16th birthday of a friend of ours. Most of our old homeschooling friends will be there. Somehow I'd like to find a way to communicate to each of them that they are special to me. I'm probably getting a little "over the top" with this, but I'm thinking that if I were to feel intense sorry at some one's death, that suggests I care for them deeply in life and maybe should find a way to communicate my feelings. Today, I will try to be with whoever I am with; to truly focus on what she is saying-to hear and feel her words.

One moment at a time.