Something Just Like This

This morning, Pascal woke me up. I scooted over so he could crawl into our warm bed for a cuddle. "Snuggles with my precious mama!" he whispered in delight, "this is the best!"

When I came downstairs, Kachi called me over to tell me his dreams from last night. "Sometimes I know I'm dreaming because my brain is big enough to have the dream and know it too."

Sam interrupted then, eager to show me a funny reel he thought I'd laugh at, because his joys are always bigger when he sees them reflected in someone else's eyes.

As Vava came downstairs, she called out, "Janelle Labelle! I love you!"

Then Patrick came downstairs, ready to leave for work, but took a few minutes to smooch and hold me first.

And then I put on my headphones asked the internet for music while I made the kids breakfast, and this song came on:

Something Just Like This (click for a listen if you haven't heard it yet)

It couldn't have been more perfect.

I struggle with depression and often miss the deep goodness blooming wildly all around me. I know I am so lucky, and so loved, and I thank God for these goons every day. But some days the fog of constant demand is thick on my heart and I just can't feel it. 

Today I felt it.

Wishing you a free and fogless Wednesday with your eyes wide open to the love, dear friends.

Xo.

A Mostly-Silly Psalm

I wonder if

-when in possession of a tongue

That sings a glory note 

Upon tasting a nacho chip

Tangy with lime and cilantro-

Might it be a sin

To diet?

Maybe you feel God's pleasure when you run

And I feel His pleasure when

Butter meets fresh bread

And melts into alleluia.

Taste and see

Oh taste! Oh see!

That the Lord is good.

a soft ode to the snooze button

The long night's silence breaks with your alarm,

And the shifting of sky from black to navy

Lightens the edges of furniture in our room.

Today, we are tired.

We will take turns pressing snooze for another hour

Folded together like two pages of a love letter

Drifting in and out of mailboxes and carrier bags

Dreams and dreams opening up without

End or beginning.

I feel lucky

 Today was a busy day at school. On one of my trips whizzing through the hallways I glanced up and saw the kindergartners' St. Patrick's Day art on the walls. 

Each student had coloured in a poster with a shamrock in the centre, and the title read "I feel lucky!" The students had finished the sentences themselves.

"I feel lucky ... when my dad plays with me!"

"I feel lucky ... because I have food!"

"I feel lucky ... because I get hugs!"

"I feel lucky ... to have friends!"

"I feel lucky ... whenever I see my mom!"

And I had to stop reading because I was on my way back to class and did not want to arrive with a face full of tears. 

But my heart was split wide open.

And when I was zooming past that bulletin board, all the moms from the kinder class flashed through my head. Moms who seem to have it all together, and moms who seem a little more like me. Thin moms and fat moms, moms with chronic illnesses, addictions. Moms who roll up to the door in their pyjamas, still zipping up lunchbags. Moms with messy cars, moms with creaky strollers, moms with wagons, moms in boots. None of them are on the covers of magazines, none of them would make you look twice.

The kid who wrote "whenever I see my mom" isn't glad because their mom is perfect, flawless, radiant. They're glad because they love her. And they love their dad, and their friends, and food.

They count themselves lucky because they have eyes open to see their well-loved, delicious, ordinary luckynesses. 

Tonight I looked around. 

Yeah. I feel lucky too.