I am trying to praise the great gift of “the normal” this week. I specifically voided my calendar of all daytime appointments, lunches, calls. I am determined to run no errands. I need a week of unimpeded time to write, and also to just be when I’m not writing. We all need time to do nothing.
I am aiming to bottle a moment from last Thursday, when I flopped onto the couch beside my son, who was reading a Baby Sitter’s Little Sister book (his older sister is the most powerful book influencer in the world), and just laid there for ten minutes, doing nothing at all but studying the perfect spray of freckles across his nose, the way he occasionally mouths the words to himself. I fully listened to the sounds of my husband in the kitchen, and the weather in the window, and — yes — a catbird call every now and again, audible in the family room if you pause to listen.
I want more of those couch moments and less of that sensation of “rapid movement with little depth.” (A navigational hazard: finding yourself stuck in the shoals.)
In this spirit, I am today republishing a modestly edited version of an essay from two years ago — one in which I saw and praised “a day of small things.” This is the energy I’m after: a week of the small and luminous. I am thinking of the first line of Walt Whitman’s poem, “Inscription” (which I believe was actually some front matter for a draft of “Leaves of Grass” but I could be wrong): “Small is the theme of the following Chant.”
This, then, is the perfect opening line for my praise song this week:
Small is the theme of the following chant
****
On the way to a birthday party last weekend, my son’s chatter filled the car, inexhaustible. A new “tell” of his, this chattiness: an augury of excitement. It was the same the morning of his “visit day” at his new school, when Mr. Magpie and I took him out for breakfast before walking him into the red brick building to meet his teachers and classmates, his tiny body swinging between us (“one, two, threeee!”). That morning, his prattle had become a fourth companion, filling every void and pause in conversation, and overwriting most everything else, too. Observations and memories tumbled out of him, wedging their way around us.
The insight tugs at my heartstrings, reminding me that perhaps I haven’t been as dutiful as I could have been about finding occasions in which he plays the lead character rather than the sidekick to his opinionated, older sister. He finds a tiny stream of attention and basks in it, a cat lolling in the sunshine.
Still, I strained to keep my focus from wandering as he burbled about Halloween costumes, “that red car,” why the party’s location had been moved and where it had been moved, why his friend did not go to our Church. Suddenly: “that’s where God is, in the colored window.” I peered at him in the rear view mirror. “Right, mama?” I paused. Sometimes he will steamroll right along if not answered immediately, and I wasn’t sure I had the stamina to engage in theology at 1:45 p.m. on a Sunday afternoon, especially as I inwardly prepared myself for the throttling experience of supervising a young child at a birthday party while engaging in splintered, desultory conversation with other parents.
“Right, mama?” he persisted. “God lives in the colored windows at Church?” I could see in this language a sweet perversion, or adaptation, of something he might have learned at school about stained glass. Perhaps a kindly teacher or priest talking about its metaphor.
“Well, yes,” I said. “But God is everywhere, too.” He thought for a moment, and then we walked briskly in the direction I’d anticipated and loosely hoped to avoid, in which he asked whether God was in his seat, the car, the grass, the street light, the tree, the neighbor’s dog, Spider-Man, his pinky finger.
“But he’s all broken up?” He concluded, mystified. I long ago decided that I would participate in this kind of wonder at the mysteries of faith when my children presented them rather than strain to explain something I myself struggle to understand.
“Yes, He’s everywhere, and in everything. It’s a mystery we can’t fully understand. But He is there.”
“Ohhh,” he nodded. “God is magic.”
And I thought — that’s not a bad landing place for a four year old’s theology.
And I also thought, with some small inward regret, how ill-conceived it had been of me to temporarily hope to dodge this conversation, how wrong it was to have considered his inquisition ill-suited to the time, to the venue. Revelation operates according to its own timetable. It is rarely opportune. Sometimes our most profound insights arrive when we least expect them. Who was I to divert my son’s?
I was reminded, too, all of the sudden, of a quote from Zechariah I’d displaced for years:
“Who dares despise the day of small things?”
He is talking about the re-building of a temple, how paltry the first stones must have looked when laid.
And I thought how all my days are filled with small things. The tiny feet padding around outside my door in the morning, the filling of the coffee mug, the packing of the lunches, the “I love you!” thrown out the car door at drop-off. And yet they eventually stack up to the great things: family, comfort, the rhythmic warmth of domesticity.
My son’s recitative about God in the trees, and in the dog next door, and in the fabric of his carseat suddenly felt percipient, well-shaped.
So, yes —
Here I am, ready to praise this day of small things.
Post-Scripts.
+I do not consider myself great at prayer. Your comments on this post were incredible.
+Imprints of a new (suburban) lifestyle.
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Shopping Break.
+SoldOut’s Mem Day sale ends today, and mannnn is it a good time to stock up on elevated, high-quality basics. (Use code MDW20). I think I own almost every SKU they have and it’s all SO GOOD but my top picks from the sale section are: The Scoop It Up Tank (opaque, fitted, thick cotton), the cropped Everything Shirt (included this in my roundup of the best button-downs), the shrunken perfect tee (narrower / less dramatic in shape than the basic model), and the Not-So-Basic tank in stripe.
+Julia Amory’s short-sleeved coatue caftan is back! I own this in green and loveeee.
+Hill House is launching its “nightgown capsule” today at 9 AM. Nellie Diamond has declared this “nightgown summer,” and I love the ethos — bare feet, cottage life, a tad romantic and other-wordly. There are such gorgeous pieces included!
+Love these striped sweatshirts from Lululemon!
+A Magpie reader recently launched this gorgeous loose tea business. I ordered The Bright Side! (“Warm cedarwood, bergamot zest, lemon peel. Perfect for energy.”). I love boiling water for tea in Fellow’s Clyde Electric Kettle. We actually also own their Stagg kettle, but we keep the Clyde out on the counter for tea (which we brew almost every night during the week). It has such a genius and sleek design — you just tap down the button and it pops up when ready. It has a much bigger capacity (1.5L) than the Stagg and is simple and fool proof and so chic!
+I love to drink my tea out of this pretty teacup and saucer, but if I want a big, steaming mug, I like my Juliska.
+My striped Vee Collective bag is 30% off with code VEEPRESALE30. This is such a fun color option, and a great alternative to the more ubiquitous MZ Wallace bag. (Which I do love, too.) I’ve been using this striped one specifically for schlepping to kids sports events. It has a wipeable exterior so you can set it on turf / dusty benches / etc without worry.
+Drooling over these multi-gemstone necklaces from Zoe Chicco. Vibe for less at Bauble Bar.
+OK, perfect striped half-zip sweater. It just wants to be worn with white jean shorts and barely there leather sandals!
+Seriously fun skirt from Beau and Ro. Love the applique one and the sardine print one.
+I just ordered some protein powder from Ballerina Farm. Do you have a favorite protein powder? I feel like all I read about these days is how much women need more protein! My sister was just in town a few weeks ago and urged me to start mixing some protein powder into my morning shake. Apparently this sells through quickly…
+Simkhai’s elegant Jazz dress is on sale in select colors. This is such a fabulous and elegant silhouette — the kind of thing you can wear to school events, meetings, dressier occasions, etc. My sister and I call this elevated, sophisticated look “Midge.” It’s very Midge.
+My Internet friend Katie of Beach Reads and Bubbly just released the cutest merch!
+This lilac lace vest is head-turning. With white jeans?!
+Pretty patterned linen midi skirt — under $60.
+Reminder that F+E has dramatically discounted some GREAT buys, like this tuxedo front shirt (own and love) and my favorite sweatpants (currently wearing – run TTS and great for petites).
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