I have been reading. I have. Its just, like I knew it would be, difficult in the midst of all that I do in mothering and wiving(?). I have been reading Anna Karenina, but not as often as I should be. I have been doing a helicopter-hover in a few chapters lately (after a great beginning before school started) and I’m okay with it.

I am on page 356 of 808. Not bad for about 6 weeks, in my opinion, considering all the other things I have accomplished in the past month and a half.

In school and in teaching, I couldn’t read without a pen in my hand. All of the countless words I’ve underlined and passages I have starred, notes I’ve made in margins – all of these could make up their own set of books. But in reading Anna, I’ve set the pen down. Understand that there a probably hundreds of underline-worthy passages, but this masterpiece, I am reading for pleasure. I’m not taking a test on it, I’m not writing a paper or thesis, and I am surely not going to be teaching it to anyone. So, down goes the pen. And in go the words, the beauty, and the magnificent prose without an underline.

Except for one. I’ve only underlined one part of one sentence.

In the beginning of the book when a despondent Levin travels home to his country house from Moscow (after propsosing to Kitty and then being refused), Tolstoy describes Levin’s happiness at being away from the city. Levin was “…at home, and at home the very walls are a great help” (184).

For whatever reason, this fragment, this portion of a thought – it resounds with me. Possibly it is due to my stage of life: the love I have for my girls and my attempt at making their HOME a safe and comfortable place. Perhaps its just how I feel – home is the best place, a sanctuary from the entire world, a place that I can somewhat control and keep things in order. My walls, these walls, as scuffed and stained as they might be at times, these walls are always a great help to me. I really love being home.

• Fall asleep early and wake up happy.
• Always, always stop and breathe in the roses.
• Forget quickly when someone has hurt you.
• Get up when someone pushes you down.
• Say “HI!” to everyone who passes.
• Let eating blueberry pancakes be the highlight of your morning!
• Cuddle often and long with those who love you best.
• Give fierce hugs, sloppy kisses and free grins!
• Stare at the harvest moon like you’ve never seen it before.
• Whatever you choose to do, do that thing with ALL of your energy.
• Feel safe and live well, because you are cared for by Someone BIG who has your best interests in His mind.

• Always sleep when you can.
• Try to wear fancy shoes whenever possible.
• Attempt the climb because, after all, you really don’t have far to fall!
• Make good use of things at your disposal, because a roll of wrapping paper can be an boat’s oar and a table can certainly be a hidden fort.
• When you learn a new word, use it over an over again so you never forget its meaning.
• Sing while you play (or work).
• Drink milk, not soda, and eat fruit, not chips.
• Always smile for the camera, no matter what you look like.
• Dirt under your fingernails is merely a sign of an afternoon of digging in the garden.
• Watch shows on TV that will TEACH you something and read books with substance.
• Above all, laugh at EVERYTHING!

I decided about three years ago that I would get off of any high-horse I sat on and and stop giving advice. Especially advice that no one had asked for.

I decided, instead, to begin (trying, at very least) to only advise people based on lessons learned from my own experiences. Any wisdom that I had been blessed with was because I had actually weathered my own storm, or rode out my own wave; these are the nuggets I would share.

If I have failed in this, I truly apologize. Because (ironically, as a lesson learned), I don’t know. I simply don’t know. The older I get, the more I realize how utterly senseless and unwise I actually am. God has taught me many things, I have made a ton of mistakes, and I have given some bad advice in my life. So now, I hesitate, but I try to share wisdom only gained through my own poor choices (or the random good ones) and personal experience.

Like the Wharton quotation so eloquently states, why would anyone listen to any word, wise or not, that has not been purified through the fire of personal triumph or failure.

So, Lisa wants to know what my “word” is.

WISDOM.

Its the end of September and the third official full week of school. The weeks are concise, formulaic and have routine bred in them – they have innate cadence. The days, weeks are racing by like the pages of a flipbook and I am beginning to see my life and my kids’ lives accelerate. It is as if I am watching in time-lapsed motion speed.

Life does this, speed by, as I age, I am finding. Everything gets, well, fast.

Time stretches as a child. A little girl can live a day within an hour and a lifetime in an afternoon. This child wakes up in the morning and knows that there is an entire world of possibilities laid out for the day. But this little girl also yearns to grow up, make her own choices and be in charge of her time. Life begins to pick up its pace, like a runner in her last mile of a race.

Right now, for me, time is beginning to quicken. I know it in all surety. This is adulthood.

Last week, on the stairmill at the gym (the ones that look like escalators), I realized that when I paid attention to the step, step, step of my feet, my time went unbearably slow. I was counting the minutes and portions of minutes down until I was done. But I realized, that with anything, when I let my mind wander (planning our trip to England, writing my blog in my head), the time jetisoned by, zooming through the minutes.

So this is it, to live in each step, step, step, like a baby girl. I should live my lifetimes in an afternoon and pay detailed attention to the placement of my feet, what I do and what I say; playing with my children, cooking for my husband, spending good time with a friend, taking care of the things that God has placed in front of me – joying in this life. I shouldn’t yearn for life to move on, I shouldn’t wait for the next day or month to happen. I cannot change time or the way I age, but I can alter how I see each day. Living in my today-step: this is the only cure for adulthood.

We took two cars to the soccer game and it began to rain as we drove home. Hope was in another car, and with a my mother’s too-big sweatshirt on her, she looked out of the window, lost in a big hood, and waved, smiled and we saw (not heard) the subsequent giggle.

My mother said, “Sometimes she looks so big, but then sometimes she looks so little.” She looks big when she wears her school uniform with the tartan jumpers and skirts, but then at other times, she is so tiny, hidden by a hooded sweatshirt slipping over her eyes.

So grown-up, but then so like a baby. She towers over other small children and I wonder in my heart if she ever was a baby. But then, she cries in the middle of her game because the other team has made a goal. She isn’t mad, but she’s hurt.

I imagine she feels this dichotomy as often as she has an outburst. Like she has all of a huge adult emotion inside her tiny heart, and really doesn’t know what to do with it: anger, embarrassment, joy, disappointment. These are things I don’t even know how to express half the time.

The same is true with the baby (see, I still call her the baby, but then again, what mother doesn’t call her youngest “the baby” even when they are much older). Sometimes she is still the searching, crying infant to me, the one who wants to be held tightly. This is the one who wants the pacifier and blankie. But then, as she runs away and scrambles up the jungle gym, pacifier long forgotten, she seems old and tall and little-girl-like. One look at her bulky diaper bottom and I am reminded of how tiny she really is. She’s beginning to recognize shapes and colors and I soon forget the nursing baby with sleepy eyes.

I think that’s it…allowing them the jungle gym: the fenced-in, padded playground with the safety it provides; the small, easy slides, as well as the monkey bars representing that one more thing they need to learn. I watch, help when I am needed, and marvel at how big and little they are at the same time.

Close your eyes. Breathe in the change of season…they say it will rain tonight. This time, I think they are right. The soil, desert-dry, needs the watering. The cool wind has begun this afternoon, through the canyons, and on to the hills. Not at all warm like the Santa Anas we often get, but cool, even coldish wind, beginning to clean, to make way for the rain. We are exposed up here on the side of the hill. But I sit, somewhat protected by new trees, and breathe in the change, the scent of the pre-rain. Even the world has begun to turn-over…

Its time to simplify, to cinch-in, to bring to rest. Its time to slide gently into a routine and rhythm. It is time for reasonable discipline, for decisions-to-complete tasks that have been waiting. Its time to try a new pound cake recipe and to finally buy the reusable grocery bags that I have been meaning to purchase.

Time to smell moist eucalyptus trees and wood-smoke mixed on the breeze. Its time to close my eyes and listen to the wind through the leaves.

Today, not my words, but someone elses’.