Oh when does she breathe,
when do her feet stop and how
does she find time to simply be,
Walking into the cold
of her rarely lived in kitchen,
my heart skipped momentarily at October’s
not a day free, not an unscheduled
Each day had an abundance of activity for their
two children and for her,
practices, clubs, co-ops, playdates,
I found my heart breaking a bit at the thought of
consumed with so. much.
and was fretting for just a moment
as I thought maybe I had it wrong,
maybe we weren’t doing enough,
maybe my children needed all the activity.
At home that evening I looked about me;
children snuggled on the oversized couches
knitting, reading, telling each other stories,
orange fire aglow in the old brick fireplace,
dark already settling in out the large picture windows and
the smell of chili simmering on the stovetop.
this was life.
And this slow, rhythmic home based essence the answer to
the over scheduled, rushed existence permeating our
We are planted in our families, in our homes and
when we embrace them, when we are intentional about
drinking it in,
we create an environment in which our children’s
and our own,
And so my heart ached for the restless woman,
for her days packed so full that
the beat of life was lost,
for the children who did so much that
nature’s music sang out without their ears
I would carry on,
I would sip tea in a rocking chair with
knitting in my lap as
my younger children built blocks by my feet and
my eldest bundled up in sweaters to go collecting
We would listen,
we would breathe,
we would live.
Amy Hughes is a wife, a mama, a writer, a candle-lighter, a bread baker, and an addicted knitter and reader. She homeschools her 7 children over a hill near the California ocean and blogs at To Love.