Hello friends,
This week, I’ve got something a bit different to share with you, but first, a little backstory.
Jose and I were talking the other night, and I told him that I think this might be the hardest month of motherhood I’ve navigated yet.
Elena will be two and a half next week, and Eva is nine months old, so it feels like we’re in the middle of a dozen transitions. Eva is crawling and teething and learning to eat all the foods. Elena is potty training and dropping her last nap and learning to process all of the big emotions in her little body.
“They both need you so much right now,” Jose said, and it’s something that can feel like both an honor and a weight.
One night last week after the girls were both down, I opened a beloved book — To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings.
I’ve written about it before here on Dandelion Seeds. It’s by the late Irish poet and philosopher, John O’Donohue, and it’s a collection of beautifully specific blessings, such as “For the Artist at the Start of Day” and “For Marriage.”
But there’s another blessing I often turn to when I’m in need of a few familiar, comforting words. It’s called, “For One Who Is Exhausted,” and I find the second half of it especially moving, because of how he writes about how to begin moving out of our exhaustion.
By opening up to small miracles.
By watching the way of rain.
By being gentle with ourselves — “excessively” gentle, John says.
I have a feeling I’m not the only one in need of John’s wisdom right now, and so I decided to spend a little more time with his blessing this week, by hand-lettering the second half of it.
If this happens to find you feeling far from yourself today, I hope his words will help you begin the journey home — one small miracle at a time.
With love,
Candace
Oh my goodness. I haven’t had the space to read your essays on Dandelions seeds for months, and months, and months. I even had a conscious thought of that fact today, or yesterday. I had a moment just now, so opened your email and read this one. It was written FOR me. I’m in my own exhausted chapter, with a homeschooled child starting grade one and an 11-month baby going majorly mobile, and I’ve just been feeling most days like I’m drowning. Desperately treading water trying to do it all and be it all for everyone. And even though I know that the way through is in slowing down and noticing the everyday miracles, when you’re struggling to keep up, slowing down seems like the most impossible and illogical thing to do! Thank you for the poem, for the serendipitous reminder, and for the feeling of solidarity through these early parenting days.
Thank you. I needed this ❤️