The world feels heavy lately. We have our personal stress and work: Jake continues on the job search in a difficult market, I continue to write for local magazines and online markets, and we both continue to maintain the homestead as best we can. But we’re very well taken care of by our community and we’re doing quite well all things considered. The heaviness comes from outside. I’ve caught myself doomscrolling more often than I’d like, drawn in by the tragedies and chaos that’s happening all over the world. Angered and grieved by the injustices; frightened by the “what ifs”. And there’s so many of both.

There are very real evils happening all around us. When we see them, we must call them by their name. But I’ve also been feeling convicted: it’s not my job to solve all the world’s problems. I can’t fight every wrong and address every injury. Our internet-connected world sometimes makes it feel like we must attend to it all, but obviously that gets overwhelming and can lead to despair.

So what is my job? What is my duty?

To serve God, love my family, and mend whatever lies within my ability to mend.

And that’s what I will be focusing on, primarily. I’m dragging my attention back to my own little Shire and the souls that live within it, and protecting it with all my heart.

So here’s what’s been happening in our little Shire.

Our sweet Bea had her name’s day for St Margaret of Scotland on June 10th. We celebrated it simply, enjoying some strawberry cake and singing to her. I felt a bit guilty it was so simple, but I’m trying to be gentle with myself and accept that I have less bandwidth in this season of life.

Partially, I have less bandwidth because Beatrice is going through some sort of sleep regression. She’s started fighting all naps and bedtime with a vengeance (sometimes for 90 minutes or more) and waking several times at night. We’re also trying to wean, which doesn’t help matters. I am surviving purely off of coffee, matcha, and naps courtesy of my amazing husband and family.

In the mornings, I’ve been prioritizing quiet, screen-free time while we listen to a Spotify playlist I made of kids’ folk songs or CDs of classical music. Here’s my playlist for anyone interested. CD wise, we’ve been listening to Mozart, Tchaikovsky, and various “classics for kids”. 

I spent a few days reorganizing, cleaning, and rearranging all the toys in the kids’ room and living room, and now they’re spending a lot more time playing. I can’t recommend toy rotations enough: suddenly everything becomes new and exciting again.

We’ve been spending less time in front of screens all in all, and I’ve noticed much nicer play between the kids. It’s still difficult, given their age gap and current development stages, but I’ve still noticed a difference. I’ve found setting up simple activities — trains or magnatiles for Michael, wooden stackers or animals for Bea — can give me a solid few minutes of independent play and peace so I can finish my coffee.

During Beatrice’s naptime, Michael and I have been doing more crafts and reading books together. We read a lot of smaller books, and try to do a chapter of Charlotte’s Web at least once a week. He really enjoys tracing letters with his dot paint pens and following pattern cards with the wooden blocks and dowels. We’re slowly working on recognizing letters and numbers, too.

Michael got a haircut that really transformed him from toddler to little boy. It’s made his adorable and insane cowlicks much more manageable — but also, my heart still aches a little as I see him looking so grown up.

Speaking of being so grown up, Michael learned to ride a bike this past week. He’s been excelling on his balance bike for quite a while, and my parents bought him a “real bike with pedals”. It only took him an hour of practice, and he was riding up and down the street with Jake jogging alongside. Now they go on daily bike rides together up and down our street or around the block.

We did the calculations: since he learned how to ride his new bike he’s already ridden almost 20 miles. He’s unstoppable.

I’ve had less time and energy for my crafting lately — I’ve been doing more writing, which is good and wonderful work, but time consuming. However, during the evenings when I’m not writing, I’ve continued working on a cross stitch embroidery piece and finished spinning up a skein of vibrant hand-spun yarn.

Michael helped me wind it from the bobbins to my swift, and then wanted to take a picture with it. I couldn’t say no to those eyes.

I’m also finishing knitting a pair of socks for Jake (his belated Father’s Day gift) and knitting a light summer scarf out of leftover handspun.

Even though the world outside our garden gate is dark and full of the unknown, I’ve been working hard to cultivate peace within these walls. I’ve had two different quotes bouncing around in my head lately as I navigate parenting currently. First is the one this post is named after:

I do not believe this darkness will endure.

J.R.R. Tolkien

I think that one might be self-explanatory, but in case not: I’m holding onto the fact that “in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach”. No matter the difficulties of this season, in our personal lives and world-wide, this darkness won’t endure. It never does.

And the other quote is this one:

The world is rated R, and no one is checking IDs. Do not try to make it G by imagining the shadows away. Do not try to hide your children from the world forever, but do not try to pretend there is no danger. Train them. Give them sharp eyes and bellies full of laughter. Make them dangerous. Make them yeast, and when they’ve grown, they will pollute the shadows.

N.D. Wilson

This quote reminds me to persevere in making our home a greenhouse of light and laughter; of love and warmth. I am beyond privileged to shape the childhood of my two babies — and as they grow, may they carry that light and laughter and love and warmth out into the world with them.

Thanks for staying with me through this slightly disjointed, tired post. I hope a bit of the light I try to preserve in our home makes its way to you, too, through my words.