It's been awhile since I counted gifts one by one and letter by letter. I utter them in whispers sometimes… I grasp for them when feeling overtaken, overwhelmed, overcome. But today, I need to chronicle and count, when the month has been marked by groundhog-days, over and over the tasks that make me weary and worn, days where I wonder if I'm doing anything at all except driving my own self mad and making my own self sicker and sorer.
Rubbing swollen knuckles, I ask him why this? when I thought my work on this earth was something so different, something I was good at, something that came natural. And he whispers in the every day that all of these heaps of garbage and nothing glamorous keeps me needing and it's not about what I'm doing that matters. All that matters is that I keep needing, keep hitting my knees and crying out, because that is the only place I'll ever be right in any of my efforts. Needing, turning, receiving.
Today I'm tempted to chronicle the hard things, to list out the ways I'm struggling with the assignment I've been given. Instead, I breathe in and squint hard through the mental fog to search for beauty, to count gifts.
-- A new kitty, Jack-Jack, who curls up beside my daughter in bed.
-- Sleeping until 8 a.m. today, a restful morning.
-- Kids coloring together on the deck.
-- Phone call from our boy, Jacob, in
Texas yesterday, a quiet, teenage I Love
You at the end of the call.
-- Five upcoming days "stuck" at home to catch-up and settle in, a nice break in all the constant motion of these months.
-- Positive progress with the adoption paperwork.
-- A new school year, right around the corner.
-- A restful day in bed nursing the flu while Husband held down the fort.
-- An old friend, checking in on me.
-- Animal crackers, in bulk.
-- That having "barely enough" means having "exactly enough."
-- Feeling the inner stir to write, again.
-- The anticipation of fall, of cooler weather and small luxuries like apple cider and hand-knit scarves.
-- Parenting books to keep my chin up when I'm feeling hopeless or overwhelmed.
-- Having a mailbox at the end of my driveway.
-- The sandbox, hours of entertainment for keyed-up kiddos.
-- My new sewing corner and crafting area in the bedroom – the option of cultivating creativity in my home.
-- My oldest son coming home soon from his long trip to
-- The gift of music, its powerful effect on my mood and my mind.
-- Submissions collected for the Soul Bare project.
-- Hand-me down furniture.
-- Dreaming of thankfulness and humility, an inspiration to remember everything for the gift it truly is.