Guest Post: Good Girls Don’t Have Cobwebs

Hello!  We have arrived in Northeast Missouri (or NEMO).  We’re busy settling into our house-sitting home, checking on the progress of the shop that is being built on our land (almost done, but our Amish builder’s wife had a baby yesterday…), and making lists of all of the things that need to be done (getting firewood, having a pond dug, rescuing my transplanted perennials from the moving truck, cancelling our internet in Oregon, etc.).

And while I am itching to share the photos and stories of our cross-country adventure, I did a very silly thing, and packed our camera cord in the “electronics and camera stuff” box. Which means it is somewhere in Iowa, awaiting a Tuesday delivery.

However, today I have a very exciting treat – a guest post!  My good friend Sarah offered to share her debut post from her new blog Good Girl.  If you’ve ever questioned the “SHOULDS” of your life, then you’ll love Sarah’s exploration of what life can be like when a Good Girl says no to should, and yes to joy and authenticity.  That this particular post is about our friendship, my Oregon home, and our last meeting moves me to tears with its sweetness and candor.  Thank you, Sarah.

And so I present:  Good Girls Don’t Have Cobwebs, by Sarah of Good Girl

            Good writers can paint a picture with their words.  I can only wish my skills are up to the task.  The picture of Echo Hollow, the homestead of my dear friend Teri, was alive with all the beauty of LIFE.  A huge trailer parked in the driveway, kids running about in the autumn sunshine, a half-naked baby snoozing in a jogging stroller, adults bustling about in the business of packing up this lovely homestead for a big journey and me arriving with some home-cooking to sustain the troops.  It was my last visit to Echo Hollow.  Teri and her family are leaving in two days on the reverse Oregon Trail, as she calls it.  They are off to begin a new life and build a new homestead in Missouri.

I walked into Teri’s kitchen to find her on the floor, wrapping dishes and packing them in an old vintage suitcase.  My visit was short but I offered to help do some packing while I was there.  Teri went in search of her hubby to get my packing orders and left me alone in her kitchen.  And that’s when I noticed them.  The cobwebs.  Massive cobwebs.   Up in the ceiling, in the windows, along the beams.  And you know what I thought?  They looked just like they belonged there.  They were a part of the décor of this rustic, homey little cabin.  And it was beautiful.  Seriously, beautiful.  I peeked out a side door that I had not seen opened before.  Down a few steps from the living room was an outdoor enclosed area that included their washing machine, but no dryer, and a shower.  I’m pretty sure they both bathe and shower in the great outdoors.  And again, I was struck by the beauty of this place.  There was a creek babbling by outside.  Sunlight streamed in all the windows.  Flies buzzed around the kitchen.  Just like all my other visits to Echo Hollow, I was in awe and a little bit in love.  All my Good Girl training goes out the window, and I just marvel in the realness, the beauty and the stark difference between what I think a home SHOULD look like and what this home really feels like.

Teri rejoined me and we spent our last half hour together packing and chatting.  Friends, neighbors, and her husband were in and out, getting kids lunches and consulting on packing jobs.  Before I left, we stood in the road out in front of their house, watching the big kids run in the garden.  As I pulled out of the driveway, Teri waved good-bye as she pulled her littlest (the naked baby) up the driveway in a big farm cart.

I drove my mini-van down the one lane country road that leads out of Echo Hollow and back to the main road and the tears just bubbled up.  I cried.  The thirty minute journey from Echo Hollow back to my reality was filled with all sorts of things Good Girls don’t usually do.  Let’s start with the tears.  Good girls don’t cry and especially not if the OTHER person wasn’t crying!  Well, let me clarify.  Good girls always cry one or two polite tears if in the company of others who are crying.  But “the ugly cry” as my mother-in-law calls it is NEVER shared with others, and for this particular Good Girl, it’s something I rarely permit myself to do.  But as of late (hence the creation of this blog), the REAL me is winning out over the Good Girl more and more.  And I wanted to cry.  So I did.  My mind searched for why I felt so sad.  I’m sad to have a friend move away.  I’m sad for what could have been.  Teri is so many things that I hope to be (beekeeper, garden grower, knitter, chicken steward) and while I know we will have technology on our side to keep us connected, nothing will be the same as being at her homestead in person.  And she won’t be here to visit my garden and give me the scoop.  “You better get that bindweed under control before it sets in.”  I’m sad to lose a kindred spirit.  Teri and I have always been able to share the deep stuff, even from our very first meeting.  And then regret set in.  Why didn’t we spend more time together?  I really wish we had.  Truly, deeply, I wished I had made more of an effort to be together.  We talked about me and my kiddos visiting their homestead.  We did that just once. We talked about making soup together while children played, but we never did it.  Now, that ship has sailed.

By the time I reached my homestead, I knew what was making me so sad.  The choice, albeit unconscious, I make most days when I choose rules over people, control over connection, schedules over friends, doing what I SHOULD over what I want, pain over pleasure.  I’m missing out!  Daily!  I pulled in the driveway ready to connect with my children and embrace the beautiful afternoon we had before us.  The irony of my life is that I CAN do this.  I’m a stay at home mother to two children who I’m homeschooling.  The world is our oyster and yet, often, I get all three of us bogged down with rules, schedules and shoulds.  Instead of embracing the ART of mothering and FLOW of life.   I’m realizing how many times I say NO to MY LIFE (the life that rises up to greet me each day) and YES to a whole bunch of rules.

So, I packed the girls in the van.  We headed to a local farm.  We had ice cream (at 4:30- GASP-good girls NEVER feed their children ice cream right before dinner!), visited some animals, walked through the fields of flowers and corn stalks.  All the annoyances I had been feeling in the past few days at Big C and Little C melted away.  Instead, we laughed, played and ate.  When Big C was afraid of the donkey (behind a fence) I didn’t explain to her how irrational she was being.  I played blocker with my body to clear a “donkey-free” path for her.  When they stood at the entrance of the hay maze wanting to go down the tunnel but balking for what seemed like forever (but was only minutes) and backing down anytime another kid came through, I did not sigh and stalk off.  I just stayed there, in the moment, letting my little cautious souls ponder the scene.  When they both started whining when we got in the car, I did not lecture them on how good they have it.  I just made a funny face and we all laughed.

So thank you, dear friend.  A visit to your world today was a gift to me and my family.  I saw the beauty of some cobwebs in a rich family life and home.  This good girl is no longer just trying to get rid of the cobwebs.  I hope that today’s good-bye isn’t really a good-bye.  In fact, I know that it isn’t.

5 thoughts on “Guest Post: Good Girls Don’t Have Cobwebs

  1. Wonderful writing Sarah:) You captured my exact thoughts/feelings about my family life! I could read this everyday as a reminder what matters most…and how to take a more positive approach with the precious moments we have with our kiddos. Thanks for sharing…

    • Thank you! And I went back myself to reread it. I’ll be forever grateful for that day and that it was captured on this blog. Cheers to enjoying the GOOD life!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s