Hi there,
This is our regular monthly meet-up for coffee. It is a mostly reflective practice where I look back on the previous month before moving ahead to the next. I hope this email sparks reflection for you too, and maybe a conversation with a friend. The length of this post will vary depending on the month, but I never want to take up too much of your time. Grab your coffee (or the beverage of your choice), and let’s get to it.
1. What was a moment of peace for you?
A quiet moment of reading fell into my lap one of the first days at home by myself after bringing home our baby. It was early morning and steam rose from coffee resting on the arm of my favorite colorful chair, the blanket my brother brought back from Indonesia still laid across the back.
Mornings in my house are not sacred or quiet and are not reserved for holiness apart from children. My kids were born with an internal alarm clock set to go off the moment I get comfortable in an activity (i.e. journaling, reading, enjoying my coffee or the quiet, sitting in my favorite chair, etc.)
This particular morning, however, they must have needed extra sleep. I continued turning the pages of my book, highlighting sentences that resonated or made me smile for almost an hour. When I heard the door open down the hall announcing the first of them awake, I glanced at the time, shocked I’d been sitting there for so long.
The quiet moment with a book open on my lap was a gift, even in a short season of basking in the chaos and calls for chicken nuggets for breakfast. As much as I enjoy those quiet moments of aloneness and peace—they bring me so much clarity and energy—their voices and shuffled footsteps sound like musical notes floating down the hall, even if they do bring about the blessed chaos once again.
2. Where is your focus with a new baby at home?
During Covid and the lockdown and all that “unprecedented-ness” we collectively learned that major disruptions to the rhythms of our lives makes it more difficult to focus on the activities we normally do and enjoy. After bringing home our sweet little baby girl I expected not to be able to read books with any comprehension of their contents, plots, or characters.
When my first child was born I struggled to focus on books, even getting jealous of my husband, who was able to finish the largest book he’d ever read in the same period of time. Surprisingly to me, this time around reading has remained a respite, a touchstone of normalcy in the tumultuous newborn phase.
What has been more difficult at holding my attention is writing or journaling. It takes a different kind of brain-work and focus than simply taking in information or a storyline. I recently described my son’s need for a runway to take-off on a story and a landing strip to come back down from it. Writing is similar. It takes some time to get into the work of writing, to get your ideas flowing.
Most days I rely on my simple One Line A Day journal, where I jot down a few sentences, maybe more, about what happened that day. As I’m on the last year of the five year book I have a tiny bit more room to add another sentence or two. This has become my way of journaling lately, and it surprises me each time I pick up my pen how long it takes me to sift through the day.
3. Where is the silence?
Since being home with my kids for four weeks my unthinking habits come to the surface more often. One of those is a need to always fill the silence. You might ask, What silence? Aren’t you at home with two older kiddos and a tiny baby with excellent lung capacity? You are correct. There are three kiddos, but two are hard-pressed to ever let their chatter slow, let alone, stop completely.
By silence I don’t necessarily mean literal silence in my house, where you can hear a pin drop from across the room. What I mean is the silence in my own mind. Even when the kids are talking non-stop or arguing over whose turn it is to play on the tablet, or claiming sole ownership of the stuffed cat, there is always a room I can retreat to in my mind. It’s a place I can disconnect for a moment to keep my sanity until the other adult arrives back home.
It’s in this sanctuary of retreat that I go to have those thoughts that turn into ideas, that turn into words on a page, that may turn into words you read here. I guess this ties into the last question about lacking focus to write.
Whenever I feel the pull to go there I suddenly come up with ideas of things I could engage in to actively prevent myself from entering the room. They aren’t all watching a tv show and numbing my mind. Sometimes it’s popping in an earbud to listen to an audiobook, or picking up an actual book to give my mind a clear path ahead.
My avoidance to approach the room is also a clue that perhaps there is something there I need to see or feel or embrace. It can be hard to approach something I know will take time to unravel and weave back together, when my life is currently broken down into hour-long segments. So, the answer is the silence is knocking and waiting to be allowed entrance.