It’s 6:00 on a Saturday morning and it is quiet in our house. The leaves have grown to their fullest on the tree that stands tall behind the white fence in our tiny back yard.
Brokaw barks when the wind blows.
Michael sleeps with the foot of the bed raised.
And I sit on the edge of the couch on the heating pad, macbook pro on my lap, tapping away at the keys. And I need another cup of coffee, as always.
Hello, everyone. I miss you.
My world is busy. Too busy, really.
I have only been to the gym once in more than a month. I feel my wobbly bits growing and I’m not happy about that.
Last weekend, Michael and I didn’t leave the house at all. My SUV sat parked in the driveway in the same exact spot from Friday morning until late Sunday night. We ordered a pizza and watched Steel Magnolias and went for a family walk and picked a magnolia. I had no idea how they open and close. That’s weird.
The weekend was glorious and way too short. Sunday, I sacrificed church for writing and the muse came and it was good but I missed church.
I read on Facebook this week that Glennon Doyle Melton (a.k.a. Momastery) said that writing is like peeing. It sounds weird, but I can totally relate. Well, I guess I just haven’t had to pee on the blog in a while. I’ve been spending a lot of time learning and preparing to write my book. It’s an exciting process but wow does it take a lot of time and energy!
I’m processing some big thoughts about being a wife and being a caregiver and how what I really feel like I am something in between, and I have a feeling when I figure it out, you’re going to love it, and I’m going to love it, but right now I’m just so tired and I feel empty and not like I have a lot to say.
I’ve enjoyed reading a lot lately, though. And here are some books I recommend:
Atlas Girl, by Emily Weirenga
Carry On, Warrior, by Glennon Doyle Melton
Lean In, by Sheryl Sandberg
Work Happy, What Great Bosses Know, by Jill Geisler
Perhaps my reading list is a glimpse into my confused soul?
Recently, our 12-cup coffeemaker died and we didn’t replace it.
Last weekend, our blender died and this week I made smoothies in the KitchenAid mini-chopper.
Michael has a new home health aide and together they cleaned the downstairs, and I was equal-parts thankful and feeling guilty. The lawn needs mowing and my hair needs highlighting but I’m considering staying in denial on those two.
So much of what I thought life would look like by now isn’t so. I realize this post sounds more melancholy than I actually feel, which is an example of how much my writing still needs to grow. Early this year, Michael and I prayed for a year of restoration. We hold tight to 1 Peter 5:10: “The God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast.”
As I type this verse, my heart opens.
Maybe this confusion I’m feeling is actually restoration?
Maybe this career drive, this all-the-sudden desire to lean back in at work, to hope for the future there, is restoration.
In that time of deep grief after we first got married, when I almost lost myself, so much changed. In some ways, I’m still just a shell of the girl I was before. But in some ways, I’m back.
Maybe this is restoration.
Maybe restoration is exhausting and confusing.
Maybe restoration takes faith.
I pray I’ll know it when I see it, and that I won’t miss it.