the meaningful glow: a weekly archive

making do with so little, thin places, sudden hearing loss, and beginnings

Winter Sun

BY MOLLY FISK

How valuable it is in these short days,

threading through empty maple branches,

the lacy-needled sugar pines.

Its glint off sheets of ice tells the story

of Death’s brightness, her bitter cold.

We can make do with so little, just the hint

of warmth, the slanted light.

The way we stand there, soaking in it,

mittened fingers reaching.

And how carefully we gather what we can

to offer later, in darkness, one body to another.

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After a week off with my family I am happy to return here, tapping the keys before little voices cry for my husband and I. The one year old is on a strong sleep strike and my energy levels have not been great. Thankfully it is the one time of year Sean is guaranteed to be home for two weeks. We have been in a cozy holiday fog scattered between gifts, food, and attempts at finishing an entire movie after the kids are asleep. (National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation - check. Die Hard - to be determined.)

Like many across the country, we experienced a heavy freeze recently. My particular area of Virginia doesn’t often receive snow, and if we do it won’t be until January to March when our true winter sets in. As the bitter cold descended it brought a howling, relentless wind. The trees are now officially bare with only an odd leaf or two hanging on for the view. I sometimes wonder if it is lonely to be such a leaf, or a thing of magic.

I spent an hour recently to get my children into their winter gear (only a slight exaggeration) and took them to the woods near our home. Together we marveled over the changes in seasons. In just a few short weeks the forest had transformed from golden orange to moody browns against the pine’s steadfast green. Lately it is ice that fascinates my boys the most. To see everything suspended in time must be baffling to them, surreal, even. I often feel like this as a parent. Our days so easily become harried and filled with rollercoaster ups and downs, but I still find myself pausing internally to freeze a dimpled grin, a sudden giggle, a tiny head on my shoulder, into memory.

Molly Fisk’s poem put into words exactly what I couldn’t:

The week after Christmas always feels like a “thin place,” the in between where we aren’t exactly required to be anywhere or do anything. It’s the cusp of the New Year, a time of beginnings and tying up of loose ends. For some it means resolutions, a word of the year, or just a general flood of relief that the previous months are now behind them. I’ve experienced a bit of each and learned that a simple list of flexible goals and plans works well for me. In my case, it’s become more than boxes to tick. It’s matters of the heart, and that of my children’s. Taking deep breaths and walks in the fresh air. Reading voraciously. Absorbing the beauty present in simple rhythms or pleasures. Less time on my phone. Enjoying delicious food without the guilt. The things that matter, at least, to me.

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life with small beings

So often I get carried away in the moods of my young children. Roan will be 5 in March, and his brothers, Quinn and Kieren, are 3 and 1. It is a whirlwind from the time they wake until they are tucked into bed again. Years ago, when Roan was an infant who didn’t do much yet, I read a book by Linda Akeson McGurk called “There’s No Such Thing As Bad Weather: A Scandinavian Mom’s Secret to Raising Healthy, Resilient, and Confident Kids.” She dives into the importance of fresh air and open-ended play for children, the need for it in our modern society. I took her words to heart not only for them, but myself. While we don’t make it out every day, we do most of them. It had been a while since we made it to the dock above, and oh, to see my children run down the trail towards it made my heart sing. (Apart from when the 3 year old crashed, adding to the already existing lump on his forehead from several other such tumbles.) We all needed it and even if I drag my feet at first, I am always glad we went.

“As a parent, a great way to support [children] is simply to spend a lot of time outside, ask open-ended questions, and encourage your child’s innate curiosity and willingness to investigate.”

-Linda Akeson McGurk, There’s No Such Thing as Bad Weather

reading/listening/learning

The past couple of weeks have left me in a bit of a reading limbo. The books are there - everywhere, to be honest, in this house - with their spines taunting me. Some I have had to return the library before I even opened them. I don’t know about you, but I always cry a little inside (okay, on the outside, too) when this happens. Instead of sharing something new with you this week, I thought I would share a favorite podcast episode of mine:

The On Being Podcast with Krista Tippett: Mary Oliver - “I got saved by the beauty of the world.”

Mary died in January of 2019, yet her words will move others for many years to come. I have already read aloud selections of her poetry to my boys, doing this a little for myself as well. She rarely gave interviews. If you get a chance to listen, let me know what you thought, what it meant to you. I would truly love that.

As things settle after the holiday rush, I look forward to sharing something new with you next week.

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on the table

My husband and I have a tradition on New Years Eve. No, we don’t stay awake until midnight. We do, however, enjoy a solid amount of food. Sean makes a spread of appetizers. This year it was steak bites, parmesan garlic chicken wings, a mini charcuterie, and my favorite: puff pastry brie bites with a bit of jam.

Image from Well Plated by Erin

Store bought pastry, rosemary is optional. You can make them the day of or ahead of time and freeze. I’m a bit like Joey from Friends with these: What’s not to like? Pastry? Gooood. Cheese? Gooood. Jam? Gooood.

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As we set into the New Year, perhaps I’ll come back to share more of my hopes and dreams for the year. If you care to share any, simply reply directly to this email or comment below! One of mine is to include the audio recording as a regular feature (you know, unlike this week because, well, kids).

Final thoughts and perhaps some transparency as I go through something medically that I had never heard of before: Sudden Sensorineural Hearing Loss or Sudden Deafness. A few weeks ago, I woke with muffled hearing in my left ear. After a course of antibiotics and no change, I went to an otolaryngologist. They performed a hearing test and discovered that I had lost a portion of my hearing. I am almost to the end of a course of steroids (whew, I am not a fan of those) and will be going back mid-January. Overall I am managing okay, but wow has it been a ride.

My hearing is still muffled, mainly in the areas of speech sounds. Tinnitus was something I always thought was just ringing, but now I know it can be anything - a car driving by, footsteps upstairs, sounding like a giant in my ear. Background noises like microwaves make it impossible for me to hear at all. It’s a lot. I’m grateful to still have hearing, but I will admit that each day is a bit of a rollercoaster. I’ll update you as I continue on this journey!

I wish you a gentle New Year. Gentle on yourself, your expectations, and your heart.

Warmly,

Jess

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