I don't like to admit this, but I have a tendency to focus on the negative aspects of my circumstances.

I noticed this about myself a few years ago when I found myself in a place of constantly dwelling on all that was going wrong rather than enjoying the moment and focusing on the good things.

I got tired of listening to my own complaints and dealing with my own bad attitude. I got tired of being grumpy or sulky. And I realized that complaining and dwelling on negativity doesn't help me or others or the situation, in fact, it often hurts.

What helps is action and being present to the moment and, most of all, gratitude. Gratitude shifts our perspective and causes us to seek out the good things in our circumstances. Gratitude is powerful. And no matter what: there is always, always, always something to be grateful for.

If you're in that place of feeling like negativity is all you see - I'm sorry and I get it. I wonder if practicing gratitude would ease some of that heaviness for you.

For me, finding something to be grateful for was a habit that changed my life for the better. I started small and slow but it's become a regular part of my life and I can see what a difference it's made in my overall outlook. It doesn't make everything okay (even though I wish it did) and it doesn't mean that there aren't super awful parts of life (cause there are) but it does help me get through the not-okay parts of life with more joy and the awful parts with hope. ​

It's the season of lavender in the village. A celebration of the flower that grows so well here. Makers of all sorts are incorporating lavender into their creations. And it's no wonder why. Lavender sparks all of our senses from it's herbaceous smell, to it's subtle purple color and it's complex floral arrangement.

I love lavender. I love to see it, smell it, use it, and draw it. If you look up close to a lavender stalk, you can see that it holds dozens of tiny florets. The detail in these miniature flowers is astonishing. As with all things I draw, I take the idea and form of what I see and translate it into something more simplistic. And that's how I got this image. It's my elemental version of lavender.

​I first came up with the idea for this illustration when I was trying to capture the essence of what makes Albuquerque special. Aside from the people, it's the landscape.

The looming Sandia's, the vast desert spaces, the lush Cottonwood Bosque and the flowing Rio Grande never fail to give me a sense of wonder and awe. They make me feel insignificant in a good way. Living here, so close to these natural wonders, I get the feeling that I’m just a small part of something big. 

If I could use photography or paint or some other rich art form to capture all the beauty and all the color and and all the life that exists in this place I would. But my skills don’t come close. 

So, I do what makes sense to me. I zoom out, simplify and I create broad strokes from what I see. I reduce it down to it’s silhouette; jagged mountains, the flat lines of a desert, a cluster of trees for the bosque, and mellow waves of the river water. 

I've oversimplified these major landforms to allow our experiences to fill in the details. I know the feeling of the rough edges of the rocks that make up the mountains. I know how it feels to walk for miles in the desert and find beauty where I thought there was nothing. I’ve ventured into the comforting shade of the bosque Cottonwoods when they're bright green and shimmery gold. I stood in the river and felt its current swell around my legs. 

Maybe you know Albuquerque and you have your own images and memories to fill up the spaces in between these lines. 

I hope that you can see the richness and beauty of our city in this minimalist version of it.

In the process of decluttering this weekend, we uncovered our Bocce ball set. I hadn’t seen it since we moved to Albuquerque two and a half years ago and it brought back so many good memories. 

We’ve spent countless hours playing Bocce with friends and family. (You know who you are.)

When the girls were little, it was easy to be in our yard or find a nearby green patch to play and hangout. It was simple, it was fun. We didn’t have decades worth of accumulation yet. We had one lawn game. 

I almost donated this set today because we’re trying to make more space in our home. The plan is to clear out all the unnecessary stuff and keep only the things that we absolutely love or need. We have lots of great things and good activities but we don’t really have the time and energy for it all. 
 
We’ve both come to the conclusion that it’s time to start honing in on the few things we really want to do rather than letting lots of random things take up our space and time. So we filled the truck with things to pass on and we kept the Bocce ball set. 

This afternoon, we went to the park and played Bocce with all three kids. We tossed and jumped and laughed and cringed and Cy narrowly missed a head injury. (Yep, he ran in front of the ball while it was being thrown by a sister.) It was cold. Dusty and I were on a team and we won most of the games but the girls did well. I remembered how bad my aim is. We thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. I’m glad we kept the game. 

I took this picture when we were all standing around the pallina checking to see who was the closest. I can’t tell you how sweet it was to have us all gathered around something together. Those are my favorite times as a family.
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Happy Tossing!

The holidays can feel like a whirlwind. There’s a sense of excitement and eagerness. There is so much to prepare for, so much to do. We have gifts to wrap, cookies to bake, trees to decorate, traditions to be upheld, songs and books and movies to partake in.  And after it’s all said and done, there is the day after Christmas and … what?

Peace. The sense of peace that you’ve made it. All your loved ones were hugged or seen or spoken to. All the gifts were given, the songs sung, the books read, the traditions continued. There are probably leftovers in the fridge so there’s no need to cook much today. The kids are all happily engaged in their new toys. There is no more to do on this day but settle into the peaceful feeling of being done. 

And that’s what we’re doing today. We’re relishing in being “done” for the day. 

Sure, there are tiny scraps of wrapping paper on the floor despite having gone over it multiple times. There are piles of toys and art supplies and gift cards spilling over the tabletops. And every single fuzzy blanket we own is either wrapped around a child or sitting discarded in a heap on the couch.

But the simmer pot is on and it’s giving off the deliciously satisfying aroma of Christmas spices. Many cups of coffee have been had in our beautifully crafted new mugs. Breakfast was pour and go: cereal and frozen fruit. And we’re using the heater to stay warm this morning, not the lovely but high-maintenance wood-burning fire. Easy. Comfy. Peaceful. 

It’s not that I don’t have a million things running through my mind. I do. I could get lost in all the tasks I need to get back to after the holidays. I could put a hundred items on my calendar and still feel like I didn’t fit it all in. I could stress out about the laundry or the floors or the million other chores I’ve been doing the barely been doing over the last two days. But I won’t.

I’m choosing peace. I will sit in the post-Christmas mess and enjoy the time spent with my family. I will vaguely consider all the things I need to do on Monday without letting tension creep into my shoulders. I will do a couple things around the house that will make a small contribution to a large project without getting overwhelmed by it. I will pray about our future plans instead of worrying about them. 

I choose the peace that is offered to me everyday by Christ. Peace in the midst of noise and mess and life.