Next:: Kate Montaung's Five Minute Friday
Next.
Two ideas come to mind: My eldest who always wants to know what's next. I feel powerless when he asks me because I don't know. and I feel like a failure because I think I "should" know.
And the other is the phrase used in recovery, "Do the next right thing" which is a phrase that brings me comfort when I want to escape into a book or (used to be) social media or I when I get overwhelmed by the thought of a whole day, week, month, year mothering and home making and wife-ing...
I can do the next right thing. I can say a prayer for kindness and for the Lord to see me and intercede when I want to yell, "I don't know! You figure it out!" at my eldest. I can wipe the counter, sweep the crumbs, start a pot of tea, sit on the front porch with s little someone in my lap, even take a deep breath.
I may not know next, next right thing, but I can do the one I'm given, breathe a prayer with my good Father, and then do the next.
Monday, April 22, 2019
Tuesday, April 16, 2019
Lack
Lack:: Kate Motaung's five minute Friday writing prompt on Tuesday
What do you lack, I ask them as they head out the door. Jackets, boots..."I need gloves." We poke around the winter apparel basket for matching black gloves then I hold each out as he wiggles little fingers into particular spots, gives an apple cheeked grin, then states firmly, "okay. I'm wedy."
I crack open the door--a three-year-old sized exit then close it quickly behind him and watch as he hops himself off of the porch and runs to find his big brother.
What do I lack? Dramatically I answer myself, "If only it were a pair of black gloves in a basket."
I feel my lack keenly these days**
Courage, sleep, a plan for dinner, time alone, wisdom, compassion.
This brings me to what I don't lack:
Hope, ability to delight in small things, Legos, dear friends, giggles, children, a husband, money,
and right in this moment, gratefulness.
What do you lack, I ask them as they head out the door. Jackets, boots..."I need gloves." We poke around the winter apparel basket for matching black gloves then I hold each out as he wiggles little fingers into particular spots, gives an apple cheeked grin, then states firmly, "okay. I'm wedy."
I crack open the door--a three-year-old sized exit then close it quickly behind him and watch as he hops himself off of the porch and runs to find his big brother.
What do I lack? Dramatically I answer myself, "If only it were a pair of black gloves in a basket."
I feel my lack keenly these days**
Courage, sleep, a plan for dinner, time alone, wisdom, compassion.
This brings me to what I don't lack:
Hope, ability to delight in small things, Legos, dear friends, giggles, children, a husband, money,
and right in this moment, gratefulness.
Wednesday, April 10, 2019
Offer
Offer:: Kate Motaung's 5 minute Friday writing prompt on Wednesday.
Offer. As a mom of 3 littles, I feel empty, like the dregs are perpetually drained, like I have nothing to offer.
But, I do have myself, my story, my honest presence.
Which is more than I've had to offer my whole life.
Just because I feel empty doesn't mean I have nothing.
And if we sit side by side each with nothing but honest presence, we will leave filled by that connection.
Offer. As a mom of 3 littles, I feel empty, like the dregs are perpetually drained, like I have nothing to offer.
But, I do have myself, my story, my honest presence.
Which is more than I've had to offer my whole life.
Just because I feel empty doesn't mean I have nothing.
And if we sit side by side each with nothing but honest presence, we will leave filled by that connection.
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