If you asked me about breaking away from my normal routine, and how that’s going I’d be tempted to flat out lie. But since I’m no good at lying, I’d tell you it’s a lot harder than it looks. It’s something I have to just do.
If you asked me about this blog, I’d tell you that I’m wiped out and rethinking everything. I want to declutter, redesign and possible (sadly) remove sponsors. Not because I don’t want to support them any way I can, it’s just a lot to handle at the moment. I’m thinking about using PassionFruit, or maybe nothing at all. I guess I just want my blog, life to be… simpler. Nothing’s decided yet though. Especially that part about the redesign (I still have a stack of business cards with this header design on them, so that’d be a big ugly move in itself ;).
If you asked me what I’m reading I’d tell you not much except this book by C.S. Lewis, called The Problem of Pain. What caught me was the title, but also the back of the book, “If God is both omnipotent and good, how can we explain the pain and suffering that people experience daily?”
Hmm. We’ve all wondered that a time or two. Or maybe I’m just that carnal.
If you asked me about my son, I’d tell you that something about the clock turning past his second year of life has completely thrown his (perrrfect) sleep schedule out. Is this normal??? Please just lie and tell me it is. It will make me feel better.
If you asked me about his eating, I’d tell you it’s getting better. That’s one for me, right?
If you asked me about this fog my brain seems to be in when it comes to writing, I’d tell you I feel inadequate on so many levels, heading this huge project of Still Standing Magazine. My own writing took a backseat for a few days while the launch party was going on, and I feel like I have to find my voice again.
If you asked me about our house, I’d tell you we rearranged the living room and it feels more like home than ever. Imagine? That’s all it took… moving a few couches around. We had a house right after we lost Jenna and that was the first place I ever felt truly at home (after marriage). A part of my heart never wanted to leave, but that just wasn’t the right thing for us to do at the time.
If you asked me about Mother’s Day, I’d tell you about the flowers Bubby brought me in the middle of his playtime in the dirt and rocks Saturday afternoon. His sweaty palm was squeezing something and all I could understand was “Fyyyy!” as he reached out his fist to me (normally this means butterfly).
I hesitated and let the things (?) in his hand fall to the ground. I saw the flowers, and my heart melted and I felt a little bad.
“Oh… flowers…” I secretly hoped he’d never stop being this sweet. A sigh of relief came over me too, that it wasn’t in fact a smushed up butterfly he was holding…
If you asked me about my husband, I’d tell you that watching him grow spiritually has encouraged me a lot lately.
If you asked me about grief, I’d tell you that I’m so tired of the sadness! Pretty much sick of it. I’ve been thinking a lot about pain, more about how frustrating it is, and that it never, ever changes. But then the other day, I was reminded that pain is in fact a gift. Just like the pain of a flesh wound, the pain of the a heart wound is an indicator that something isn’t right… complete… whole… fixed… healed.
Pain makes grief almost unbearable, but it also makes her life… real.
I’ve decided that my broken heart is a gift. At least for today.