My job was once to read books that I signed up to read, and then write papers about them. I made life decisions about how I was going to get a run in before my next class, and whether or not I wanted Bread & Co. or Food & Co. for dinner. Perhaps my more substantial thought life wondered about poetry & faith, the man I would one day marry, and how to be a part of generating and growing real community.
“In a minute there is time / For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse” (T.S. Eliot)
Last March, we moved to China for my job months after my husband and I got married, despite finding out that I had become pregnant with Buddy along the way. There had been years of preparation leading up to our going, and the call seemed mysterious and bigger than what we could see directly in front of us. So we went! – trying to make two start-ups, pregnancy, and settling into a foreign country work. But alas, we never found our level ground. Husband and I looked at each other one evening after 12+ months of trying to arrange and rearrange the variables of our lives in Shanghai to feel like home, and both of us knew that it was time for me to quit my job, and for us to find a context in which we might thrive. We stumbled quietly back to Austin, TX with a few bruises, but nothing substantial enough to count as serious injury.
Traversing across (and back) land and Pacific sea has happened so quickly that some days I feel like I’m just waking from a coma and am having to relearn the facts: I am married to a kind and curious man; I have a babbling Buddy who stretches his limbs at every opportunity to touch something new; I am tired. In this past season, our revised plans have only led us to further revision.
I am writing this first post during Buddy’s unpredictably-long nap, just to start writing again. T.S. Eliot is a friend to me this afternoon, as he writes about thoughtful planning being thrown out of the window at a moment’s notice. My sudden urge to write again, and subsequent five-minute set-up of this blog, comes after a two year hiatus of not having picked up a pen / typing board to consider or create. In part, Buddy’s current profession of drinking milk, playing, and napping has inspired me. While he sleeps, he grows. During his most vulnerable, still, and quiet time of the day, the Maker who made him develops him. This blog is my free-write space, where I have an unplanned and undefined time limit to roll through thoughts on poetry, mama-hood, the home, and what it means to bring life and creativity to it all.
“For I have known them all already, known them all — / Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, / I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;”
These little future nap time posts will grow out of the decisions and revisions that take place in normal life, and the minutes that reverse them all.
Here’s to napping–