femininity

I wish you could see my house right now.  No, actually I'm glad you can't.  My couches have been moved back against the walls to make room for makeshift soccer goals.  There is a ping pong net stretched across my dining room.  A frisbee golf stand is on the stairs.  There is a basketball hoop in my shower and a football peeking from under my bed.  Oh, and I just saw a kayak paddle propped up against the closet door.  This is my life with three men.  This is why I sometimes tell Steve "I want my own house!"

I tend to think of femininity in terms of my house.  I'd like more white, less scuffs and stains.  I like more flowers, less sports equipment.  More Barefoot Contessa, less The Fishing Channel.  More feng shui, less dirty laundry.  When I score it that way, I'm losing big time.

In this male dominated house I do have one ultimate feminine hideout -The Bathtub.  This is my little cocoon of candlelight, warm vanilla sugar bubble bath, and a basket of magazines.  One night this winter, I crawled out of my bath time, and headed back into the testosterone zone.   My three men were wrestling on our bed.  But my youngest paused to come hug me and said "I love the way you smell when you get out of the bath."  To my surprise, my other son and husband agreed and talked about the peaceful candlelight and scented warm air that follows me out of my hiding place.

Since that night I've been thinking about femininity differently.  Not so much about my invaded house, but about behavioral traits generally considered feminine like gentleness, empathy, sensitivity, creativity, nurture, love of beauty and joy.   Instead of bemoaning my uphill battle, I'm embracing the high calling of infusing my boys lives with as many feminine graces as I can. 

Tucking them into a freshly made bed.
Surprising them with fun treats in their lunches.
Helping them be gentlemen and appreciating their efforts.
Pausing to savor wild daffodils on a hike.
Curling up to talk with mugs of hot chocolate.
Caressing their hair when they are tired.
Lauding trimmed fingernails, thoughtful thank you notes and tidied rooms.
Insisting on occasional meals that include a table cloth and multiple silverware.
Reminding each other of all the blessings we have to be grateful for.

I love being a girl.  I love being a wife and a mother.  My boys may never totally understand the pleasure I get from wrapping up in my soft pink blanket for an evening of Downton Abbey.  Viva la difference!  I'm honored to be the feminine force (for now) in their lives and to help them grow up to be well-rounded men.


Speaking of well rounded... I love this reminder from Richard Rohr that God is both male and female.

For much of the human race, the mother is the one who parts the veil for us. She gives us that experience of grounding, of intimacy, of tenderness, of safety that most of us hope for from God. However, many people also operate from a toxic and negative image of God. For those people, little that is wonderful is going to happen as long as that is true. Early growth in spirituality is often about healing that inner image, whether male-based or female-based.  It was only when I began to see the image of God as a compassionate mother that I have been able to change what I believe God truly is, Love.  

Adapted from The Maternal Face of God by Richard Rohr.

stained glass

People are like stained-glass windows.

They sparkle and shine when the sun is out,but when the darkness sets in,their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within.
   - Elizabeth Kübler-Ross.

perspective

I've been reading my history.   "Asheville started out a primitive outpost in the 1700's.  Frontiersmen such as Daniel Boone and Davy Crockett traveled through Cherokee country in the early days.  Asheville was basically a crossroads of Indian trails on a plateau surrounded by mountains and rivers on all sides."  They saw this land as wide-open hunting grounds.  

Over the next one hundred years the frontiersmen turned to visionaries, builders and poets.  "George W. Vanderbilt came to Asheville in the late 1880s and quickly purchased 120,000 acres to build his grand estate. The endeavor took six years and Vanderbilt commissioned renowned landscape architect Frederick Law Olmsted to design the grounds and gardens, and celebrated architect Richard Morris Hunt to help him plan the house."  Edwin Grove got rich bringing the pharmaceutical business to Asheville.  Thomas Wolfe was born here and wrote a novel that brought attention to the little city.  This was a town of promise.

My 104 year-old friend talks about being a young boy and driving a horse-pulled wagon up Biltmore Avenue.  Every once in a while, he would have to pull over as a lone, new fangled car would make it's way down the street, frightening the horses.  This was a changing city.

Over the years, people have looked at this same area of land and seen different perspectives, different obstacles, different possibilities.

I got a wonderful view flying out of Asheville last Friday afternoon.  Before we disappeared above the clouds I could see miles of forests surrounding areas of buildings and traffic. The French Broad river winding past the beautiful Biltmore House.  I could see the hospital and college.  And then the quarry near my house.  Everything looks so different from the air.  

A few hours later I was landing in Los Angeles International Airport.  Same me.  Different place.  I needed some new perspectives.

One day I am home watching snow fall.  A couple days later I'm walking through palm trees, feeling the desert air. 

One day I am at work, sitting in a log cabin, listening to a hospice patient teach me how to hunt bear.  In less then a week I am wandering through the de Young Art Museum in San Francisco studying a Vermeer painting.

I ate at The Spaghetti Factory, picked lemons, drove down Hwy 101 and saw family I hadn't seen in a long time.  From out there I got to see my life here from a different perspective.  And saw clearly what my next learning curve is.

It is time to be really happy.  To let go of stress, and survival mode, and wanting more.  Time to revel in the richness of my blessings.

This isn't a new thought.  It has been building from several things I am reading.

Taisen Deshimaru's simple quote.  "If you are not happy here and now, you never will be."

Laura Munson's incredible story. This Is Not The Book You Think It Is.  

     "Poignant, wise, and often exceedingly funny, this is the moment-by- moment memoir of a woman who decided to let go-in the midst of the emotional equivalent of a Category 5 hurricane. It recounts what happened as Munson set out on her spiritual journey-and provides raw, powerful inspiration to anyone searching for peace in an utterly unpredictable world."

Ann Voskamp's dare to "live fully right where you are"  in her bestseller One Thousand Gifts.

And David's reminder in Psalms 16:11 "In Your presence is fullness of joy."

Same me.  Better views.  More gratitude.  More happiness.