One Wee Spark

Ahhh...Christmas morning. It's finally here! Every child has been counting down the days and hours for longer than most of adults realize. I actually have a child who begins counting on her birthday, the 25th of July. And for me, the emergence of Christmas morning marks the begin of a slower pace again. It is about taking a moment to stop and reflect. It's 8am here, but both the baby and my DH are still sound asleep. It's a moment for me to relish what Christmas is really. In this still, quiet moment, I ponder the story of Jesus' advent and birth, his childhood, and his ministry. I think of Mary. I can really relate to her as a mother. And I think how excited she must have been when her little babe was born! We don't know how her labor was--long and tiresome, easy and relatively painless? I imagine it was the latter, I mean...God the Father was her midwife and the Holy Spirit her doula! How amazing that must have been. And then I wonder if it didn't also trouble

One of the first and most often questions I am asked after revealing that my mother is a compulsive hoarder and featured on the show "Hoarders" is: Do you have trouble with hoarding? I always say no. My house is not perfect (although I secretly desire for it to look like it jumped out of the pages of IKEA, it doesn't look that neat and pristine), but it is a long way from ever being considered cluttered. Like most people, we have several spots that collect things--the desk which seems to be the catch all for everything anyone doesn't know where to put, the top shelf of the bookcase where keys and pockets are emptied, and my dining room table where everyone does everything from eating to homework to crafting to any sort of other activity. But for the most part, my home is no different than yours. It is the home of six active children, and it looks every bit the part! But several days ago, I had a moment of insight. I was struggling once again with the order of my livin

Today is the day I choose to take a stand for myself. *laughing* That almost sounds as though I am spineless and that I lay down and become a doormat whenever anything comes against me. That's not entirely true. But, it's not entirely untrue either. My name is Ceci. I was born some 30+ years ago to a single mom. My dad chose, and has chosen again and again, not to be a part of our lives. Obviously, I am an only child. I like to joke that I was so perfect that they didn't want to mess things up by having another kid. That is totally untrue. But sometimes, I find humor helps me cope with pain, not by changing the reality, but by opening the door to different possibilities--things that could have been. Some of you may have arrived here, at my little blog, because of my appearance with my mother on a show called "Hoarders" . That is a part of my story. But it is not my whole story. And in fact, only recently have I realized that the clean up of my mother's h