piles of sticks + stopping the race



Sticks.  Are everywhere. 


I see now at my age that life isn't a race or about "winning" or reaching the top first but about giving everything you have to the things you care deeply for.  One person's "things" are different from another, just as one person's passions/priorities are different from another.  You give and give and become more and more.  Sometimes you see progress and growth where you concentrate your nurturing and time and sometimes you see no progress in your very sincere efforts.

Then old phases die out and new phases begin and you start all over again, choosing your priorities all over again.  Giving and observing, making sure your heart and precious time is moving something small into something bigger.


We give so our children grow from something small into something bigger. We give and wait for our dreams to come true.  Give life into our deepest hopes and longings.  And give great effort to breaking past our struggles to find peace again.  And the cycle of giving is always there, always deep and real but changing its' purpose with each phase of our lives.  


I love that Rowan keeps a pile a sticks in his arm at every chance he can, even if it slows the group down on walks.  He spots a new stick every few feet and is determined to add it to his arms.  I've learned to stop making it a "race" in a sense for us to get back to the house to do A, B, and C.  I've tried to let go of that subconscious rush because I see that this is how I can give.  In this precise moment this is my priority.  Sometimes that daily walk is painfully slow but sincerely Rowan's most prized, fulfilling part of his day.


There is no race.  No reward for "rushing" through our day, our life.  The opportunities that present themselves to us daily help us prove if we are giving deeply where we deem worthy for us individually.

With our own unique priorities we put our hearts on the line, our energy, and valued time, and we decide if we are making our mark on the world.  If we are growing something small into something big.

Life isn't a timed race--no--but an abundant garden of blossoms that grow individually and at their own pace.  Each blossom gives and grows and makes its' mark.  Each blossom's color may vary from another.

It's variety.

It's scent.


But the garden is only a garden with the strength, brightness, and gifts of every single blossom.


We need your strengths and gifts.  


Go out + live boldly!


the sleepy time gal