For me, there is a very present sub-text; meaning inherently present, in this essay:
Parenting and raising children is a full time job and our culture does not view it as such.
These days, so many people pay enormous sums of money [including to private music instructors such as myself] to others who teach and supervise their children.
For me, I made a life choice to fully accompany my child's journey through childhood.
There are only so many hours in each day. The things you are doing, tending to the garden that is your family, are indeed priceless. No one can put a price tag on truly accompanying your children through their daily lives.
It takes courage to be fully human in this world of "commodities ". You are sending a message to your children: life is not a commodity. It is a gift and the journey is the destination.
Thank you for saying this. Absolutely this is the thing I didn't come straight out and say, but was saying in a hundred other ways. I have so much respect for your choice to stay home, and I'm so glad you could! There will be more time for other things later... for now, I consider myself blessed to take the journey with my boys.
I always enjoy your words. They feel like my own - the ones tucked deep inside that don’t know how to find their way out of the laundry pile. Thank you, Jane, for however and whenever you gather them to paper. ❤️
Thank you for your vulnerability expressed through this email. Also, if you ever do decided to share about your journey with mushrooms, we are definitely interested to hear more :)
Oh, Jane. While it is good to hear from you, know that my only thought in relation to this newsletter has been, “I miss Jane and hope she’s well.” You are so much more than the content you produce. It’s actually refreshing to hear that one of my spiritual heroes (That’s you. Don’t minimize it.) struggles with the same shit the rest of us do, like dishes that never get done and returning rugs. As someone who regularly has to write sermons, because Sunday’s always coming, some days it feels like trying to walk through thick peanut butter, or like when you have a dream where you’re trying to run but your legs weigh 1000 pounds. But I’ve found that when it feels that way, it’s because I need to try softer, not harder. And I take whatever lofty idea that felt too hard to verbalize in my burned out brain and trade it in for an easier-to-access truth, like the reality of my daily life (dishes, rugs, renovations), and that’s where I find connection, with God and with those who will listen. And it never feels like enough. But it is. 💛
Such a rich word of encouragement! All the yeses to pulling them lofty ideas back to the floor. I needed to hear that it's enough. Thank you for being so sweet to me Jackie and for writing all those sermons, even through the peanut butter.
I kind of want my money back too. That was a hard earned wad of cash and I trusted you to come through as promised. I love your writing but....this isn't fair.
Thanks for writing!
For me, there is a very present sub-text; meaning inherently present, in this essay:
Parenting and raising children is a full time job and our culture does not view it as such.
These days, so many people pay enormous sums of money [including to private music instructors such as myself] to others who teach and supervise their children.
For me, I made a life choice to fully accompany my child's journey through childhood.
There are only so many hours in each day. The things you are doing, tending to the garden that is your family, are indeed priceless. No one can put a price tag on truly accompanying your children through their daily lives.
It takes courage to be fully human in this world of "commodities ". You are sending a message to your children: life is not a commodity. It is a gift and the journey is the destination.
Thank you for saying this. Absolutely this is the thing I didn't come straight out and say, but was saying in a hundred other ways. I have so much respect for your choice to stay home, and I'm so glad you could! There will be more time for other things later... for now, I consider myself blessed to take the journey with my boys.
Sometimes, in life, there is not enough dancing.♥️
Now that is the damn truth!!!
I always enjoy your words. They feel like my own - the ones tucked deep inside that don’t know how to find their way out of the laundry pile. Thank you, Jane, for however and whenever you gather them to paper. ❤️
Thank you for continuing to encourage me Jess! It really mean so much, from my laundry pile to yours. Xo
Thank you for your vulnerability expressed through this email. Also, if you ever do decided to share about your journey with mushrooms, we are definitely interested to hear more :)
Hahaha, I do think I'll try to pull a post together about the mushrooms!
Oh, Jane. While it is good to hear from you, know that my only thought in relation to this newsletter has been, “I miss Jane and hope she’s well.” You are so much more than the content you produce. It’s actually refreshing to hear that one of my spiritual heroes (That’s you. Don’t minimize it.) struggles with the same shit the rest of us do, like dishes that never get done and returning rugs. As someone who regularly has to write sermons, because Sunday’s always coming, some days it feels like trying to walk through thick peanut butter, or like when you have a dream where you’re trying to run but your legs weigh 1000 pounds. But I’ve found that when it feels that way, it’s because I need to try softer, not harder. And I take whatever lofty idea that felt too hard to verbalize in my burned out brain and trade it in for an easier-to-access truth, like the reality of my daily life (dishes, rugs, renovations), and that’s where I find connection, with God and with those who will listen. And it never feels like enough. But it is. 💛
Such a rich word of encouragement! All the yeses to pulling them lofty ideas back to the floor. I needed to hear that it's enough. Thank you for being so sweet to me Jackie and for writing all those sermons, even through the peanut butter.
Thank you so much.
Love & Listen well,
Jenny
I kind of want my money back too. That was a hard earned wad of cash and I trusted you to come through as promised. I love your writing but....this isn't fair.
Thank you for your honesty Jenny, I've messaged you directly.