|My girls w/ first fruits from the garden|
It's been an upside-down summer, a summer that has not gone at all as I had planned, as we had planned as a family. Lots to be grateful for, particularly for health and health insurance. I started trying, a few weeks ago, to be intentional everyday about the gratitude piece of all of this - because it's really easy for me to get stuck in the frustration, the plans gone awry, the maddening pace of recovery from major abdominal surgery, the inability to parent Abby in the ways I need to (did I mention she hurt her foot last week making it impossible for her to be very mobile, thereby doubling my uselessness and Shannon's way-over-loaded household of people to have to take care of?).
Today, on my morning walk - the only exercise I'm allowed, but exercise I'm encouraged to do and so have been doing religiously - I realized that I'm beginning to see the value of the slow time I've been forced into. Yes, yes, I know - should be obvious. But I'm pretty thick-headed when it comes to myself sometimes. I can be good at telling others, like lots of preachers, that balance is incredibly important. I tend to be horrible at it myself. I thrive in jobs where the demand is constant and the challenge bar is set higher everyday. I create long lists of expectations in my head about what I should be accomplishing at home every second that I am there. My teaching, you see, both by example and word, was very centered in being productive at all costs -- and being productive means endlessly moving. There's no slowing down, no relaxing. If you do, then you're failing somehow, not good enough, not doing whatever it is you're supposed to be doing.
|Abby and our goddaughter, Elisabeth|