permission to step back and take a snow day

Minnesota is covered in a thick layer of snow and ice this morning. All night I could hear the sleet hitting the windows and could see the trees begin to bend under the weight of water freezing on their branches. The heavy ice kept falling, kept coating the entire Minnesota world.

It's a bit like myself. Too much on my shoulders, more coming, feeling heavy, and sometimes overwhelmed. Yet, it's not just things to do, it's me -- thinking I'm not good enough or I didn't get enough done or I'm failing or on and on.

I turn on the computer and am greeted by a long scrolling list of schools that have closed. With childish anticipation, I start to scan the list looking for our school district, hoping that it's listed on that list. Even though we homeschool we still take snow days -- I made that promise to myself years ago when I first committed to homeschooling.

Yesterday, in one of those I'll never catch up moments, my husband told me to just stop. Step back. Re-evaluate. He looked at what I was trying to accomplish, and my time, and told me that honestly I just needed to take a day and plan. And in a moment of sweetness, he told me to really look at all the thoughts buzzing around in my head -- the negative ones, or discouraging ones, or overwhelmed ones -- and to take time to deal with them. He told me that perhaps the busy was a way to hide.

There it was. Our school district with the words closed next to it. A snow day. I was like that 10 year old kid again who would wait for the phone call or announcement on the radio stating that her school was closed. The day would seem full of possibilities -- options, ideas, freedom -- all because we were given permission to take the day off.

So this morning, in a collision between the reality of the snow day and the discussion with my husband I reached that place where I gave myself permission to step back. Regroup. One can only run so long and so hard before there needs to be a breath, a drink of water. For me, it has less to do with things on my plate and more to do with re-organizing what is on my plate. And even more than that it has more to do with actually paring back. Letting go of some things that I want to do. And even more that that it has to do with letting myself be still and thinking and praying.

It's giving oneself permission to take a day, an hour, ten minutes, to assess and regroup.

We work hard. Us mothers, and wives, and women. From the moment I wake till the moment I go to bed I work. And then, often, in the middle of the night I'm woken up and then I work. I love being a mother, and wife, a writer, and friend -- but there are times when I need to give myself permission to take a snow day. I need to let myself step back, to rest, to plan, to reorganize, to learn, to laugh -- and not feel guilty.

I don't know about you, but so often I feel guilty when I'm not working. I'll think about what I could be doing or should be doing or haven't gotten done or need to do.

There is no joy in guilt.

Instead it creates chaos. It's like that ice that's coating my trees outside. Trees that in the summer are full of life, and yet now are weighted down with layer upon layer of frozen water. Here's the irony. Water is good. We need it in our lives. But frozen water, ice on trees, that's actually damaging. Too much.

So today, on the snow day, I'm giving myself permission to really look at all the good things in my life and to assess what needs to be let go of. It's this freedom, that so often I don't let myself have, in taking time to reassess and re-evaluate. Seriously, it's looking at the ice in my life, so much of which is really good, and deciding that in this season it's okay, it's actually needed to let some of it go.

The kids are still sleeping. I can hardly wait to tell them that today is a snow day and that we are not doing school. I can hear it -- the screams of joy, excitement, the realization that they have freedom to just be today.

And I feel the same.
I've given myself permission today to take a snow day.

***
a bit of housekeeping. On 3/1 the Google Friend Connect {GFC} widget will no longer be working for non-blogger blogs. I do blog on blogger, but it is fairly unclear what will happen in the long run with GFC. So, if you are a lovely reader who uses GFC to follow could I kindly encourage you to follow in another way as well? You can subscribe via email {the emails come once a day, a bit after 1pm CST}, rss feed, or facebook {which is a fun, vibrant, and growing community}. All options are on the right sidebar area underneath my picture. Thanks you all. And take a snow day with me, okay?

a snowy day. a little story.

There once was a little boy of mine who had been waiting. And waiting. And waiting. And waiting.

He'd be waiting for the snow to finally fall in a winter where there was not many snowy days. He'd been wanting to spend 15.23891 minutes getting ready to go outside. Adding layers upon layers upon layers.

However, he forgot to remove a layer of lunch from his cheek. And do you see his hat? From New Zealand, from his aunt, from when she lived there. It's his winter favorite. So when it started to snow he gathered his brother...who wasn't quite as fond of the cold...

and his sister...who liked the cold a little bit better....but forgot her hat...

and another brother...who liked the snow a great deal....to play outside with him.

They played and played and played. And they played some more and more.

And finally, the older brother and the older sister wanted to go in because they were cold. But, not this little guy. So he and his other older brother, the one who liked the snow, stayed outside until their mamma told them that their cheeks and ears were getting too pink and they needed to come in and warm up.

But, the little boy, he was very happy. And, he went to bed very easily that night thanks to the snowy day and the hour where he got to run and play outside in the fresh Minnesota snow.

And that? That made his mamma very happy.

The end.