White sheets. A white pillow...

They speak to me of calm, of a blank canvas to host my dreams.

As contrast to the bright colors of my day, I love slipping in between these soft and cool layers of white, ready to host my imagination and not ask any question.

They won't just walk... they'll fly!

When my kids were very little, I was told repeatedly that if I did not put them down, they would never learn to walk.

But I did not put them down, not until they asked (twice) to come down from my hip.

And they sure learned to walk.

They learned to run.

And they learned to fly.

During the course of few weeks, one flew to Brazil, one jumped out of an airplane and one ... flew an airplane.

They are not the scared, dependent little people that I was warned about. They are curious and they are confident enough to converse with their curiosity, to dance with it. They walk the world feeling safe.

It reminds me of a line I read once, many years ago before I even had children. It is from Bryce Courtenay's character, Peekay. Peekay, recalling his childhood, says: "in giving me independence of thought, they had given me the greatest gift and adult can give to a child besides love. And they had given me that, also."

It is hard to feel true independence of thought when we are "needing," when our basic needs are not met. Sometimes, this takes sitting on a loving hip for a couple of years.  

Turn a 14-room motel into a junk drawer?

Yikes.

Take a listen ... 

On Giving.

Yesterday morning was my oldest son's 16th birthday.

I woke up excited at the idea of celebrating this special day in the way that he had asked: I was taking him and his friend skydiving.

I knew that from the moment I opened my eyes until the moment we were all in car, ready to go, a lot had to happen: the dog wanted breakfast, so did all the kids. Chris and I wanted "green smoothies" - and he wanted his without bananas. Sandwiches needed to be made and packed, the birthday cake needed to find its way into the back of the car. Emmett needed a ride from the ferry. There was some tie dye stuff left over from last night to clean up and I had a few emails to answer.

As I went from one thing to the next, I had my eye on the clock, knowing that we had to leave by 10. At 9:30, all the stuff was done and it was now time to get ME ready.

As I closed the bathroom door, after announcing that I was "just going to jump in and have a quick shower," I realized that I did not want  a quick shower. Actually, I wanted a nice, long and fragrant one. I wanted to take my time and take care of me, for the next little while.

So I did.

Instead of a 5 minute shower, I spent 20 minutes in the bathroom. I savored the solitude, I savored the whole process. I made a conscious choice not to rush and to give to ME.

And while we did leave 10 minutes later than we would have had if I had "just jumped in real quick," those 10 extra minutes made me feel so taken care of, so "well" that as I emerged, I was fully ready to give.

Give my time, my attention, my love - and be "well" enough to watch my kid jump out of an airplane and hoot as he opened his big green parachute.

Well worth it.