Mondays + Mutism

I hate today. It's Monday.

I hate it because I HAD to get out of bed this morning. No sleeping in allowed on Mondays. Doesn't mean I don't dual with my alarm clock though! 

Monday is groan-worthy. I have to crawl out of my small and very comfortable dream world and join the real one. I don't like it nearly as much.

Just saying.

I love today. It's Monday.

I have six children in my class and that's a very nice number. Two of my children go home at midday and my babies are happy - no teething, no temperature, just happy. Which makes me very happy.

I love quiet days like today. It means that I don't need to talk the whole day long to every person at every moment.

This is how I was meant to live.

Last week I lost my voice. For one day. It's hard navigating the challenges of my normal work day and in spite of the additional challenge of not having a voice, I had a really good day. This may sound strange but I really liked not being able to speak. It forced me to slow down a bit, to notice the nuances in my day - answering a child's need without asking, just meeting it because I saw it. I might have missed it otherwise. 

It was strange and kinda funny to see how others reacted to my quietude. Most thought there was something wrong with me and asked if I was okay. They were satisfied with my whispered answer that I had lost my voice. But what if I hadn't lost my voice? If it was in perfect working order and I chose not to use it twenty hours of the day? Would people still look for a reason behind my reserve? 

I'm going to be bold here and say yes, they would. In fact, I know they would.

As a child I had an anxiety disorder called selective mutism. Here's some information about selective mutism - thank you Wikipedia. I would often have the desire to speak to someone, but the fear of doing so overwhelmed me in such a paralyzing way that it was virtually impossible for words to escape my mouth. Lots of people wondered about this and asked my parents what was wrong with me. Because not talking at all in not normal.

Since then I've learnt that as much as not talking is abnormal, so too is talking too little. When I'm quiet, people sometimes think there is something wrong. But they're wrong. There's nothing wrong at all. If you were wondering, no, I'm no longer affected by selective mutism. Certainly not to the degree that I was as a child. But I'm not completely unaffected either. I crave the mental space and freedom that silence gives. My voice combined with the myriad of others, the interactions that come with it cause me to feel an uncomfortable sense of dread and impending doom. Things get just a little bit much, a bit confusing and a lot overwhelming. I need these quiet days to balance that out and keep me sane and functional. 

Here's to Mondays - good for the mind and the soul and for the heart to overflow with warm fuzzies.

Measure of Love

I am an early childhood teacher. I love my job but it's the kind of job where you give a lot. You give a lot of time and attention and instruction and care and love. Most of all, you give love. It's the number one thing that makes a good teacher great - the kind that children remember forever. And in order to be one of those, you need to give overflowing, abundant love - basically, you give of yourself. 

I find that hard. It takes a lot of energy to give of myself freely and continually. I love it, don't get me wrong, but it's tiring. Draining.

Tonight is another in a string of late nights for me. I'm so tired and this blogging thing is getting quite tricky to stay on top of. So instead of putting my depleted energies into creating the perfect post tonight, I'm just going to put it out there that real life is messy and at the end of the day, I've got to head straight back to the source to get a fresh dose of energy and love in order to give more. That's what I'll be doing tonight - seeking and consulting with my 'source' and then getting some much needed sleep so that I can get up in the morning ready to give of myself again with an abundant measure of love.  

Illuminate

There's something beautiful about that moment when I turn the light out at the end of the day. Distractions fade into the dark stillness and the booming voice of Mind and Reason take a backseat to the gentle whispers of Heart and Spirit. It makes no sense and there's no rhyme or reasonable logic to it.

There aren't words to explain the ebb and flow of the inner tide of self. It has it's own language, it measures knowledge and understanding unlike logical thinking. It comprehends with utter certainty without knowing how it got to its conclusion. 

I lie awake and the boundaries of mind and spirit overlap. Reality and spiritual insight blur together into a surreal dream-like vision. How can I be sure? What if I'm wrong? Is this trustworthy?

Staring at the ceiling with unseeing eyes, my soul catches a glimpse of the one weighing so heavily on my heart. God, do they know you? Where are they now? Why do I carry such a burden for them in my heart? Dare I trust that you will work these things out for your good and your glory even without me ever understanding what this is?

Despite the mess of my emotions and the confliction of my thoughts, I feel the steady rhythm of the call; pray, it says. Pray and pray and pray.

So I do. I fall asleep praying and I'm awakened with the prompting to pray some more.

I still don't understand. I toss to and fro, not willing to risk that this quiet inner voice might be speaking truth. Morning comes and with daylight comes doubt - it's easy to hide behind the certainty of absolutes. Yet I have learnt to trust this inner guide. There have been times when I have heard something or felt something which I have ignored and thought of as silliness or just workings of my sub-conscious mind. But then God moves and I see that I'm mistaken. The voice is accurate and trustworthy and not just my mind running wild. 

His voice is very still, and very small. It's quiet and gentle, easy to miss. 

I have two options. I can take the risk and believe that this is from Him. Or I can ignore it. I don't know what He's asking me to pray. Only that I need to pray. Earnestly, diligently, with fervor and passion. For so long I've been asking for answers, but I'm coming to realise that it's bigger than knowing the answers to my questions. He's asking me to trust that in the midst of not knowing, He is still working out His plan and purpose. I need to be faithful and obedient and continue to follow the promptings He has placed on my heart. 

Renewal

I'm not going to lie, there are some days when all I want to do is sit around the house doing absolutely nothing. Today has been one of those days - I've been in my pyjamas all day and I've done nothing productive!

I know that this might come across as laziness, and really it is, but there are times when it's important for me to slow down to almost a complete standstill. So often my calender is full of 'stuff' and busyness that I forget to stop and take the time to rest and rejuvenate. Yet I need to. In order to continue giving into the things that I invest my time in, I have to make sure that I invest in renewing my energy reserves too.

Renewal happens from the inside. And in order for me to be renewed, I need headspace to struggle with and work through issues that affect my week and weigh on my heart. I need to leave room in my busy schedule to let God work. And that requires time. Time that sometimes means that I do nothing outwardly in order to be inwardly productive, to cultivate my inner life.

In order to be poured out, we first need to be filled. And as we move through our busy lives, we need to continually be filled. I don't know about you, but it's too hard constantly running on empty. Renewal is an ongoing process. And He gives it at any time, in any circumstance - it's completely limitless.

Paris is So Nice

It's been a writing day today. Oh, how I love them. Rare like a pocketful of treasures that I wish I had more of. If only I don't have to return to the real world in the morning. Can I stay in dreamland for a little longer?

This little gem is on repeat...

The Heart and the Bottle

I recently picked up a book that I knew I just had to have. You know how sometimes you just know it needs to be yours even though you haven't read it yet? Yep, it was like that. And even though I did read the whole book right there in the bookshop, it just confirmed that I had to take it home with me. Sometimes there are purchases that are head buys and sometimes there are purchases that are heart buys. This one was a heart buy.

It's about a little girl (one like any other) whose head was filled with the curiosities of the world. She took delight in finding new things. Her imagination defied reality and her world with full of intrigue and wonderment. One day she found a chair and put her heart in a bottle for safekeeping. And nothing was the same. She forgot about the stars and her wondering and the curiosities of life. Her bottle became heavy but at least her heart was safe. She never noticed these things until she met someone smaller and curious about the world. But she didn't know how to answer her without her heart. So she tried to take her heart out of the bottle. But couldn't. She no longer remembered. If not for someone smaller and still curious about the world.  And the heart was put back where it came from and the chair was no longer empty.


How simply beautiful. I am struck with the fact the childhood is truly magical. So full of wonder, curiosity, joy, intrigue, simplicity and infinite possibilities. Ever stop to consider why children always ask "why?" so often? Because anything could be. There are no hard facts.  Nothing beyond the limits of their imagination.

Have we lost our curiosity? Our wonderment at the world? The sense of the infinite realm of possibilities? Doesn't God say that anything is possible with Him? Have we limited His potential because we have limited our understandings to the fallible physical world around us? The one where we are constantly disappointed. The one where it's hard to see the beautiful things while peering into the harsh light of day. The one where sorrow often outweighs joy. The one where hardship is normal and ease almost completely out of reach. Do we need to take a step back and realize that we've lost something and as hard as we try, we can't get that bottle to open? Maybe we need to humble ourselves and ask someone whose sense of the world is far more expansive and limitless to open it for us. And maybe if we choose that, then our hearts will be put back where they came from and our chair won't be so empty anymore. Only the bottle will.