I must say, I am rather missing that warm, glowing ball in the sky. You know…the one suspended on the ground?
Or not.
For someone who grew up in Southern Africa, in a country that sees many more glorious sunny days than I see the inside of our shower stall, Michigan has been a hard adjustment.
Each year I try and talk myself into ignoring it…you know, brain chemistry, schrain chemistry. But, it doesn’t work.
There’s just no denying that the lack of sunshine has a direct impact on my lack of motivation and energy. And sometimes, my mood.
It’s about this time that Arizona starts sounding like a viable option. They’re hiring State Police, honey.
But the truth remains…I could try and escape this gloomy Michigan weather and could get more sun elsewhere, but I would lose our family connectedness, and that would be a harder blow than a temporary drop in motivation. I’ll take the seasonal blues if it keeps us near our loved ones {not to mention where God wants us right now. Minor details, yeah?}.
Back to my lack of motivation. To do anything. Sleeping and eating excluded.
That growing pile of dirty laundry taunts me every time I walk past it. The simple fact that I’ve had to wear tights and skirts for the past week due to the lack of jeanage, leaves me no other option. It’s laundry day.
Besides, clean underwear is always a good thing.
On a completely random note…wearing tights more often has given me no choice than to break out the fabulous knee-high boots. Good stuff! It’s hilarious how easily we slip into the hum-drum momma syndrome, and how wearing knee-high boots for no apparent reason makes you feel absolutely scandalous {in a wholesome, married-woman kinda way}! Talk about putting a little sass in your step.
Laundry is washed, dried, folded {mostly. How do you fold some of those things anyway?}.
Why is it that putting it away seems to be even more of a chore? I’ve had clean baskets pile up in our room on numerous occasions, having to dump them out onto the bed only upon discovering I’m in need of a basket to transport the next truckload of dirty laundry downstairs.
At times I wallow…laundry is the bane of my existence. Until I recall hearing someone say…”when I lost my husband I so missed doing his laundry. I wish I had appreciated what having his dirty clothes meant to me…I had him”.
Wow. Makes me want to break out the tunes and whistle while I work.
It’s all about perspective, isn’t it?
Tomorrow is thanksgiving and I’m giddy with excitement. I simply adore family gatherings! This one holds a particularly magnificent appeal…I don’t have to make anything! My sweet sister and her hubby offered to take on the entire meal if mom wanted to cover desserts and if we’d take on the drinks. Hmm, let me think about it…DONE!
I have grown to appreciate and treasure my big sister in a whole new way over the past few years. Her and I had the usual friendly start {just 21 months apart}, but grew to passionately despise each other during our teenage years. She was the outwardly-rebellious “goth”, while I was the inwardly-rebellious “yuppie”. Even as adults we struggled with unspoken anger and unforgiveness. No matter how much time we spent together, there always seemed to be an invisible wall between us, keeping us from being truly vulnerable with each other.
This has changed over the past few years as the Lord has broken and remolded our friendship, weaving our mommy-hearts together as we navigate parenting, and it is sweeter than ever. No, we don’t spend nearly as much time together as we could, but the time that we do have is thoroughly enjoyed and unhindered by baggage. She’s a delight to my heart.
Adding to my love for my sister has been my growing appreciation for her wonderful hubby. He is awesome. While he is openly disinterested in sharing our faith {he is agnostic}, he is also genuinely receptive and quietly respectful of who we are. He dearly loves our family.
God is definitely reshaping how he views Christianity. He grew up with a dad who couldn’t stand Christians {honestly, I share in his frustration…why are we so unlike our Christ at times?} and has a very tainted perspective on what we believe. But…it’s been exciting to see God soften his heart over the course of their 7 year marriage {my sister recommitted her life to Christ after a 14 year hiatus just under 3 years ago}.
My brother-in-law is a stellar human being. Him and I have started watching Survivor together every other Sunday night. He kept bugging me about setting up a date to catch up on the season {I hadn’t watched TV since we moved almost 6 months ago and so hadn’t watched any of it, 5 episodes into the season}, but I didn’t feel it was possible, with two little children, to get away and make it happen.
I reluctantly agreed, and a delightful tradition was birthed.
Every other Sunday night, I slip away with my 3 month-old and Jeff and I curl up on our respective sides of the couch and chat away through 2 to 3 DVR’d episodes of Survivor. It is glorious! What makes it even more special is that he consistently makes a snack for us each time, alternating between something sweet and something savory. Yup, just to make my TV night out a special one.
As I said, my bro-in-law is a pretty smashing guy…and a perfect fit for my pretty rockin’ sister.
So as I sit here and ponder clean undies and family ties {not in that order}, I’m overwhelmed at how blessed I am…lack of sun, dirty laundry mounds and all.
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