a place for your soul to breathe
That black chair right there is where I write. It is my seat at our kitchen table. I have a built-in desk in our laundry room that I thought, when we moved into this house, would be where I would write. But I always end up here, at the kitchen table. It has gotten to the point now that my mind and body know what to do when they sit in that seat. I have trained myself to work in that chair.
Do you have a writing chair? Tell us. And then come back tomorrow and unwrap your Tuesday.
We just got back from Disney World. I didn’t tell you how soon we were going because of all the robbers and arsonists out there who read my blog and may have targeted my house while we were gone. So thanks, faithful-reader-thief, for not stealing my laptop while my house was empty.
We had a great time with only two or three minor pull-out-my-hair moments. Ariel was just as fabulous as you all said she would be, with her tail and her rock and her long red hair. It took a day or so to get accustomed to feeling as though we had stepped into a parallel universe of happiness and cheer.
For me, there was always a vague sense that we were oblivious partakers in a sparkly dream-show orchestrated by an earily up-beat director who was watching our every move from the top of Cinderella’s castle saying “Here they come! Cue the Fairy Godmother!” And out she walks in front of us, greeting my kids with a sappy Hello, Princess! and welcoming outstretched arms. It was a little Truman Show-ish weird, not gonna lie. But seeing it through my kids eyes, it was pretty fantastic.
If it were my country, my city, my home or my babies, it would seem as though all hope was lost. If it were me, I would see this whole thing so differently. The devastation in Haiti is unimaginable. When I close my eyes and wonder what they are all suffering through, I can’t even come close. Because it isn’t me.
And so we sit helpless, but not really. Because I have money. And I have knees to kneel on. And because Jenny started Hope For Haiti. And then my (in)courage friends joined her. And The Nester. And Amber. And so many other helpless ones who know The Helper.
Tears come easily for me. I tend to cry more the older I get, but all tears are not created equal.
There’s the mommy crying that gushes out when the kids are sleeping and I think about how sweet they are, how they’re growing up, and how I can’t stop it.
There’s the I-haven’t-dealt-with-my-issues crying, where I bust out during a Hallmark commercial, or the mad tears that come when I can’t articulate what’s really bothering me. I also tend to cry when I’m embarrassed…
To read more confessions of a crybaby, join me at (in)courage, my favorite online getaway.
So. Are you going to BlissDom ’10? I don’t think I’ve mentioned that I’ll be there. I also don’t think I’ve mentioned that I’m speaking. Here is the agenda in case you are interested. If you are going and haven’t linked up yet on at Nesting Place, go do it. It’s a great way to see who’ll be there and include yourself in the mix.
I want to thank you all for your crazy awesome Disney tips. We are frantically taking notes for our trip. The Man even printed out all the comments and circled and underlined as appropriate. What a great resource!
One last thing: Tuesday’s Unwrapped is officially back starting next week January 19. I look forward to getting back into the routine of sharing the gifts we notice in the midst of our everyday tasks. If you haven’t joined in before, I would invite you to do so next week. It is always encouraging to hear new perspectives on what it means to celebrate the small things.
I’ll be writing at (in)courage tomorrow. Hope to see you there.
There are these little people who live with us – little tiny people with great big wills. And they walk around the house, living their little lives out loud, the joys and the sorrows expressed in equally high-pitched squeals.
They don’t always do things the way I would like. In fact, most of the time they do things extremely other-than the way I would like. Sometimes I’m surprised at their choices. Other times I have to remember they’ve only been around for six years or so.
Sometimes I want to lock them in this house at the age they are right now, surrounded by the safe that I think I control. If they mess up, I’m here. I see it. I can guide and correct. And even though I lose my cool sometimes, I’m still their Mommy and I know what’s best, right?
And in saying it, I am taken back to the beginning of time when our Creator put two trees in the Garden: one for fruit, the other forbidden. He could have just made the good one so we wouldn’t have a chance to wreck it all up. He was not afraid to give us a choice right from the start.
He was not afraid, eventhough He knew what would happen.
Love continues to surprise me.
