The last week and a half have been a flurry of activity, so much so that by last Saturday night our boys were begging for home. I didn’t hate it. But, here I am on the Monday after Thanksgiving finally sitting back down at my desk and trying to figure out where to even begin. I figured Liturgy of the Little Things is a good place to start.
We’re entering our last week of the practice, and I hope it’s been life-giving. For me, intentionally paying attention to the details of my life invites me to sink down further into it. It helps me see the sacred in the specific. It gives me permission to settle in.
At the end of the month, I will ask how the practice has been for you, but for now, here’s a smattering of the last several days of noticing. Feel free to leave your own list of little things in the comments.
day 16
That moment when I feel like we might be doing something right…
day 17
Earlier tonight I walked our neighbor boy back down the street, and as I stood on the corner to make sure he made it home, I noticed that one, two, three houses had already come alive with red and green and multicolored lights. I smiled and went back inside. But after our little boys were snug in their beds, I snuck back out, shuffling to the corner in my slippers to capture just a little of the magic, to indulge that little girl in me—still eager for Christmas to arrive.
day 18
It was a good Friday night if we got to go to Aunt Pam’s house. We’d bring our sleeping bags and lay side by side with cousins, watching The Princess Bride until all eyes were shut or at least droopy. The next day, Aunt Pam would always send us home with a box of sugared cereal—the kind we never got at home, except for birthdays.
Last night we gathered again at Aunt Pam’s house. My cousin Hannah made Grandma’s potato soup (the recipe she never wrote down and has been cobbled together by memories). We laughed. We laughed a lot.
And at night’s end I came home with three boxes of sugared cereal. Because of course I did. Some things never change, and the truth is that I would not want them to. While small, these little constants become the threads of life, sweet strands of goodness reminding us of who we are, both then and now.
day 19
The morning sun. The way his feet barely hang past the edge of the couch. The invitation to come sit beside him so he could read to me. The rest of today passed by in a blur. But this little moment? Perfection.
day 20
We both work from home and own our own businesses, but sometimes that solo work can get lonely. Sometimes you need another human helping you set priorities and direct your goals and ask hard questions about everything from capacity to bottom lines. So today Ben and I rented a little co-working space downtown—complete with whiteboard and giant stickie notes—and spent five hours reflecting on the year (what worked/what didn’t) and wrapped some words and numbers around what we want 2024 to be. We are tired now but we got stuff done. Plus, I got to be in charge of writing on the board so all in all it was a very good day.
day 21
I never knew I could feel so much joy watching my kids do something they love—something that’s all their own. Today as I stood against the back wall of the gym, watching our son’s eighth-grade jazz band perform for a local elementary school, the goodness was palpable. (And it didn’t hurt that they played one of my favorite White Stripes songs.) I’ve never been the class parent or the PTA mom, but today I’m really glad I said yes to chaperoning.
day 22
I spent most of my day in the kitchen. She spent her day moving with the sun. Both of us were in our happy place.
day 23
The adults sit outside by the fire while the seven kids are inside watching Home Alone.
day 24
There are some perks to being the first one up.
day 25
Tonight I caught up with cousins over holiday plates filled with every sort of casserole and dessert masquerading as salad as we yelled “Bingo” and eyed each other’s prizes. I came home with a set of handmade dish towels (or “warsh-rags” if you’re from around here) and a mostly happy heart, save for a touch of sadness for the faces who were not there.
day 26
A snow globe kind of day…
So many lovely things in this post to start off the day reading! 😊