Friday, October 7, 2016


I'm waking up in the darkness these days, turning on different lights as I walk through my morning routines. This morning thoughts of Christmas and the white light which surrounds Christmas enveloped me.

I thought of two things: "light" and "noise". I am craving calming light and a soothing soundtrack right now.

The very first (and perhaps only) constructive thing I did during my summer holiday was to change the ring tones on my cell phone. I wanted sounds that were calm and soothing to my ear. The factory preset sounds were those of loud, annoying urgency. I softened the tones and felt calmer.

This morning, I noticed how peace enveloped me when lights were turned on in rooms adjacent to where I was existing. Muted lighting was soothing. I felt calmer.

Artificial light and sound feel too harsh for me right now. Sunlight, moonlight, starlight, lights in a distance are just fine. I find the lights within the kitchen too harsh, so I turn on the light above the stove or the light in the entrance ways instead. I am amazed at how much that soothes my ragged soul.

Last night, I got a text from one of my parents who found a new daycare. I was terrified to read it. I have lived this week #1 of Quiet Daycare Existence in fear that the new daycares my charges have found have not worked out and I will get an unexpected "SOS" from one of my families begging me to take their children back until they find a "better fit". I should not have been surprised to find out that I was the one who was the bad fit for these children. The mom who wrote me last night told me their children are doing great at the new daycare so far. "It's a great fit." Which makes me fearful I am not the best person for the job of tending the last daycare child left standing (which I confessed to this parent first thing this morning and she assured me they were content with the daycare arrangements as they stand).

As it is with "Christmas", the white lights and the sense of giving ... on the flip side of finding the perfect gift for one person, you fear that the other gifts you give may pale in comparison.

Also, as it is with "Christmas" I seem to be torn in what direction I need to turn first in the gift of this time of newfound quietness. There is so much I want to fit into this season of my life. I must first learn to trust it will last as long as it needs to last.

I have found the time and space to bring "Glennon" and "Brené" back into my world. I read Glennon Doyle Melton's memoir "Love Warrior" in a day. A day! Unheard of, for me (the one with the attention span of a gnat). The next morning, I went back to the online course "The Wisdom of Story" (with Glennon and Brené Brown) I had all but forgotten. Their words were meant to come to me right now. I feel a healing balm soothing my ragged soul.

My first week of living a quieter life hasn't been what I expected. I'm not sure exactly what I expected but it wasn't "this". It wasn't the week I just lived. I've coasted. I haven't worked, I haven't accomplished anything, I haven't found the quietness yet. But Glennon and Brené are showing me a path. A path only I can choose to take. One path that may or may not take me to exactly where I need to be.

"This" is not where I expected to be at this junction of my life. I thought I would have figured things out by now. But I'm still searching, still seeking, still craving. Something. I'm not sure what it is but when I find out, it will be a gift.

Merry Christmas. As if I needed to be reminded of the season I am headed towards, Mother Nature sped things along for us here. This is our new world at the moment. I wasn't quite ready for it but it came anyway. Life is a little bit like that.

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