My blogging buddy Danielle (whom I have actually met in real life) posted a wonderfully profound blog entry on loving the simple in life. It took me back to where my life has been over the last few months.
I stepped away from some work this summer that was really wearing me out. With a lightened load, I have been learning how to enjoy a life that is increasingly uncomplicated, allowing me to focus on those items that I consider my purpose. I have more time to invest in my work, both mentally and physically. I have more time to hang out (minus a laptop) with the family. I have more time to manage my household, and even though the house doesn’t look like the museum about which I fantasize, I am learning to work within the ebb and flow of the kids’ school days and eating breaks (the one bit of value I took from the Fly Lady).
I am learning to release some of my Martha-like tendencies and take one day at a time.
But there are times when life does not allow you the luxury of simplicity. This weekend was one of those times.
In drafting this post, I began to detail the three days that attacked me at once, but just listing it made me tired. Rather than bore you with the day-to-day, I thought instead to reflect on how God lovingly perfects all that concerns us, even the smallest of things:
I’m thankful that God has complemented me with a husband that doesn’t mind getting out and driving around; he loves to be on-the-go. I, on the other hand, am one who relishes a full day at home. So, even when he has to make two trips into town to the Whole
Paycheck Foods Market because I forgot something, he goes without complaint.
I’m thankful that others in the house are teaching me to be flexible, so that when the oldest threw in an unexpected need to travel an hour away to research a college project, I didn’t sprout too many more gray hairs. Similarly, when my husband asked us to postpone the weekday field trip so that he could join us, everyone was okay with a school-related activity (she says, tongue-in-cheek) on Labor Day.
I’m thankful for two girls with heads full of hair. Even though it takes me the better part of a couple of days to wash/twist/ braid it, it’s healthy. So in spite of the hard time they give me about oils and butters, I smile as they pull back ponytails or put on headbands.
I’m thankful for a son who is focused enough in his interests as to give up his Saturday mornings to pursue his passions, even if it means that Dad or I must give up our Saturday mornings as well.
I’m thankful that, in the midst of the chaos that permeated this weekend, I felt the breeze from the bay in my twists, I visited with alligators, and observed my first flock of red-winged blackbirds.
So this morning, as I got up later than I wanted, and scolded myself that I didn’t get all these little projects done that I had planned before the kids awoke, I reminded myself of the things that I did get to do. My two hands crafted homemade biscuits with fresh fruit this morning, and enchiladas for lunch. The kids finished school well and early. Football season starts tonight. I commit to being a better me on tomorrow.
Simple is good.