(Just an old, silly iPhone picture- I don't know why I'm not more embarrassed to post these things.)Wow.
What a weekend!
Sometimes, in the midst of my life, I laugh at my reality.
I did not spend my weekend rubbing shoulders with celebrities, taking gap ad pictures of my children or visiting Iceland.
Seriously friends, don't you laugh at your reality sometimes?
This weekend was a doozie. I won't even take the time to tell you half of the story... Here are a few highlights-
Our sump pump stopped working (yes, some had to poop in a bucket in the garage.) Gross. It was just clogged from too much TP. I think we need to keep the unplugger guy on our speed dial.
I was writhing in pain (blunt trauma to an infected kidney). Pain hurts. Luckily I got some relief and was still able to teach at church (barely).
We were supposed to bring dessert and rolls to a friend's house for dinner, which turned into Todd buying two loaves of bread and donut holes from our local gas station late Saturday night.
The boys were able to help serve dinner and wash dishes at a local soup kitchen.
In addition to teaching, the Stake President of our church here in Syracuse, set me apart as the Stake Social Media Specialist. Ha! Let's just say I think I just got asked to do a job that I really have no idea how to do. I'm excited to learn a few things...
Todd was able to visit with some families in the area that needed a bit of visiting.
We popped real popcorn and watched some funny church videos together as a family last night (Saturday's Warrior and The Phonecall).
I wish you could hear some of the silly kid meltdowns we have, or really feel the thick, darling chub of a boy baby Ben is growing up to be.
My life, your lives, they are full of hard, beautiful things.
Just one day at a time, one moment at a time... We keep on hiking!
It is worth it.
My mother in law is an example to me. She is one of the mentally healthiest women I know. She has raised five pretty confidant, mentally healthy children. I love to analyze how they think and how their lives are different from my own upbringing.
In the past few years my mother in law has had breast cancer, chemo, carpel tunnel surgery, surgery on her shoulder, c-diff, etc.. She has helped us and her other children through some pretty major ordeals. She has been a constant in my life for the past 16 years.
I asked her once if she ever just stayed in bed for a few days without getting up and dressed and fixing her hair. She honestly didn't think so, maybe once or twice.
She is a woman who eminates a balanced, ordered life. She eats elephants one bite at a time. She thrives on routine. She takes a nap every afternoon, never leaves a dirty dish in her sink, and schedules opportunities to serve gently into her week.
Todd's Idaho family has taught me how to continually press forward. They have a gentle forward stride.
I tend to travel in bursts and then need time for recovery. I've realized that someone who gives more than she has is not really helpful. First, we all must learn to guard and care for our own health and our families, so that we can truly serve others.
Someone who makes a simple meal for a public activity while maintaining a calm order in her own home is perhaps healthier than one who creates elaborate spreads for public activities while leaving her own family hungry and in disarray.
I have always felt I was strong for enduring headaches without medication or selfless for never placing importance on my own hair or doctor appointments. I'm changing. I'm realizing that one of the most important lessons I can teach my children is how to care for themselves so they can truly serve others. Balance and order are so important.
I'm learning to walk on, even when it's hard. To rest when I need rest, to go to the doctors and take medicine when I need medicine, and to do a little good each day. The greatest lessons in life are taught gently, line upon line. Not in showy, loud, huge, hand-clapping events.
Self-mastery is a little bit each day. Kindness when we're cranky. Order when we're lazy. Routine so we keep moving forward on the days we want to shrink. I'm so grateful for a life that continues to rub my rough edges smooth.
Today I am a rough stone rolling, and my bruises feel good.
Life is good.