I am trying not to moan and grunt when I roll over, bend down, stand up. I am trying not to complain about the heaviness, the aches, the time that remains. But sometimes I do. I am trying to remember how very blessed I am to be here, with child (and husband and home and health and Henry and Lily).
I am thinking so much about my dear Kate and her upcoming wedding. She is sweet and special. Jason is lucky. He is sweet and special, too. And she is lucky. Their union will be a gift and a light to the messed up world. They have so much truth to build on. So much wisdom to draw from. So much love to sustain them. They will soar and shine and soak their surroundings with their goodness.
I am trying not to think too much about the surgery (c-section) that looms on my horizon. It gives me so much anxiety to imagine it all - the numbness and catheter and pain. It is hard. But baby girls are sweet. And worth it. And pain is temporary. And glory, it will feel good to be not-pregnant when it's all over.
I am thinking of the projects I'd like to do - the pots I'd like to plant, the garden I'd like to till and prep and sow, the changing table I'd like to paint, the weeds I need to pull, the haircut I need to schedule, the people I should call and visit and minister to, the cupboards I'd like to clean out, the corners I'd like to scrub. I made myself a long list today. But there are so many daily to-do's - rides and dishes and laundry and meals and listening and homework and music and all the little tasks of nurturing. It will take an act of mercy and miracle for me to make much progress on the bigger projects. But I am also ok to let them go because...
I am thinking deeply, daily about what is really important in this season of my life, who and what I should give myself to.
I am constantly wrestling against my introversion, the tendency to hunker in, stay home, retract. I am so happy with quiet, alone, home, simple, reflective, productive. I feel a constant paradox in my life - a dichotomy between my innate propensities and what I believe Christianity requires of me. Goodness, I could write a lot about that.
I am trying to relish in and give thanks for each little gift, not looking too hastily for the next source of satisfaction. It is so easy to let the horizon of satisfaction keep moving just ahead of where we are. And as a few things have fallen into place that I used to lump under the "if only" umbrella, I realize that happiness has always been there. All along. I have only needed to choose it, reach out and hold it.
I am trying to preserve quiet, conscious time to ponder on the words of general conference.
I can't remember a time when I've been more keen to what the prophets and apostles are teaching, and advising. I want to know, evaluate, change, understand.
I really don't know who reads this blog anymore. I've long since given up dreams of internet fame or popularity. I just want to remember. I feel like I'm pretty good at chronicling our family happenings and the funny/cute things the kids say and do, but every once in a while I want to open up about what I'm thinking and feeling. It always feels a stretch to do it in this sort of public space...but this is the only family record I can rely on. The only journal I won't lose...and the only one I faithfully keep. And I don't want to be the faceless, feelingless narrator. It just takes a lot of guts to really be known. But I would die for a chance to be more acquainted with the thoughts and struggles and conundrums my mom confronted in her thirties. That raw, revelatory writing is the stuff that thrills me and sets my mind ablaze with insight and understanding. But again...guts. The next dozen posts will probably be little narrative bits about the kids, the happenings, the surface. But a couple months from now maybe I'll feel a little restless again. A little brave? And maybe I'll divulge a few more substantive thoughts.