But truth be told, I really needed to write it. Those ideas have been clanking around in my cluttered brain for weeks and it did me good to air the place out a bit. Thank you for listening and taking me seriously. And thank you for giving me advice, encouragement and praise. How can I feel sorry for myself when I confess my deep dark chocolate-syrupy fridge secret and my family and friends still think I’m worth knowing?
And so, in the coming days, I will follow some of your good advice and also follow some of my own inclinations.
I will say no to anything new asked of me, unless it will bring more joy into my home.
I will sit for a few minutes and take deep breaths (and I promise not to sigh too loudly as I exhale).
I will pray.
I will go to church. Due to various sick kids, I have only gone once in the past month and that was when we were in Arizona. Actually I fully didn’t intend to go there either and I conveniently “forgot” to pack my skirt, gosh darn it. But then Ken suggested that we really should go. So on Saturday night when I had to run to the local Walmart for some milk anyway, I said, “If God wants me to attend church, he will provide the skirt. Otherwise, I’m off the hook.” Wouldn’t you know I’d find the perfect skirt. On clearance. For three bucks. Apparently, God does have a sense of humor. And he works small retail miracles in a pinch.
I will return The Journals of Sylvia Plath to the library where it belongs. Pronto. I checked it out thinking I needed it for “research” on my book. But I should know better. Sylvia’s dark cloud is very contagious. I do not need to listen to the macabre voices in her head. Just look where they got her.
I will step back and look at the big picture. I have much to be grateful for, much to embrace, much to enjoy.
I will spend some time with my Mom.
I will remember that I always get depressed at this time of year. I feel like Phil in Groundhog Day: There is NO way that this winter is EVER going to end.
I will pause for a moment and wait for my soul to catch up with me. Rabbi Harold Kushner tells this story:
I read once of a group of tourists on safari in Africa. They had hired several native porters to carry their supplies while they trekked. After three days, the porters told them that they would have to stop and rest for a day. They were not tired, they explained, but “we have walked too far too fast and now we must wait for our souls to catch up with us.”I’ve been so busy lately that I’ve neglected my soul. I’m not even sure that a chicken with its head cut off has a soul.
I will not laugh at myself over the fact that I have essentially just written yet another To Do list.
I will go, right now, and pick up this baby who just woke up and is jabbering in her crib and I will squeeze her and kiss her and gobble her up.
I will come back to edit this post to say that when I went to get Nora, she had produced a total diaper blow-out, and despite her adorable “I’m SO happy to see you Mom cause I made you a present” expression, was a bit too, shall we say seasoned to be gobbled.
But it did make me laugh. So it’s all good.