Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Finding, Tweaking What Was Lost
So I've been outside rereading Anne LaBastille's Beyond Black Bear Lake. I do love how Anne is, again, reminding me to do what I must to keep my sanity. Though ok, that sounds extreme. Perhaps to keep my peace, to keep my ear leaning toward God in case He should wish to say something helpful. Or loving. Or even funny (though don't mention any of that to ultra-religious folks--they'll come cart me away).
But I'm getting back to that place, finding it again after having had to tweak not only my life but, well, who I am since last August when Naomi moved back home and Tom lost his job. In fact, guess who's spent the majority of this week outside beneath the patio umbrella, reading? And out in the garden pulling up weeds? And mowing, making campfires and spray-painting patio furniture?
Yes, me. In fact, uh, you won't believe what I've been doing this morning. No, you just won't. But well, I lugged my ironing board, iron and wrinkly clothes out to the patio and I've been ironing out there for all the world to see. With classical music playing, even, from the garage. Of course, the neighbors will be talking about me over the dinner table (hey! I would talk about that, too), but who cares? I'm outside. And that's what matters after that long, cold winter we had with the three of us hibernating within these four walls. And me absolutely craving alone time and my own schedule and my lost little world, the one I walked through within a dreamlike state for the first 31 years of homemaking days of my marriage.
Learning to lovingly accept interruptions--now there's a test! To pause when I was just getting moving, to switch gears in the middle of longed-for delights, to walk when I'd rather run or run when I'd rather walk. Such tests, indeed.
Well, I'm still working on all that. But you know? I'm getting there. I'm 'letting my needs be made known,' not only to God, but to Tom and Naomi, as well. My own little world is reforming itself, righting itself and being reshaped, albeit slowly (eight months and counting), into something we all can live with.
Oh happy, happy day.
So most likely, if you drop by my house, you'll find me outside. With a great big smile upon my face. Drop by anytime.