The start matters

I peaked over my new boppy pillow to see two eye brows shoot up above two very pretty blue eyes. “Mommy! You have cwayzy hayo!” I laughed out loud in my hoarse morning voice and scooped her up for some snuggle time. My Hunk/her Daddy walked out of the bathroom looking as handsome as ever and showered us with kisses and “I love you’s”.

I remembered to thank God for another day of life today. Out loud. And my girl and I talked about why we thank God for each new day.

The three of us ate breakfast at the table together. A rarity in our home, to tell you the truth. And I dove into my morning devotion and my two cups of coffee.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. Romans 15:13

Hope. Joy. Peace. Trust. Power.

Those are strong words. All tied up in the God I serve.

I spent a little time at and then at registering and allowing myself to dream, even if just a little, of what my girls’ rooms would like in the house we put an offer in on last week. It’s a 1909 farmhouse. And it feels like the answer to yet another unspoken prayer. I’ve always wanted to live in a farmhouse. And this one is nothing short of beautiful. And quirky. And

Leaving the house in shambles felt okay with me today. Adelle was in high spirits in her new and admittedly adorable outfit. A goody from last year that just now fits and has a top to go with it! There was lunch to be had with old friends who I’ve missed having in my life on a day to day basis. We laughed. We chatted. We caught up on life. And I an into one of my Sweet Rolls and watched my little girl’s eyes light up at the sight of her.

I left feeling really and truly blessed. And amazed at God’s faithful attention to details. And His goodness to us here in this place that I’ve made no secret about NOT loving.

And then I tried to put my girl down for a nap knowing that I’d pushed her too late in the day. We’d missed the window. Forty-five minutes into laying with a wiggling toddler, I got up and headed out of her room. I figured 15 more minutes of alone time might send her to sleep. When I plopped down at the computer, I was groggy and a little annoyed. Already. This was 45 short minutes after my declaration of blessings. True life.

And there was the email. They decided not to sell the dream house at all. They’re keeping it. And I got mad. When in pain, I come out of the gate fighting. Ready to hit something. Truly. And then when I realize that there really is nothing to be done about the situation, I’m a flight-er. Mentally I feel this overwhelming need to check out. And then Adelle sauntered out of her room and proceeded to look me in the eye while she did multiple things that were acts of blatant defiance. Truly. And with every last ounce of patience and strength sapped from me by that blasted email, I yelled. And slammed a door after I redeposited her in her room.

Not my proudest mommy moment.

This is the point at which I lost it entirely. I called my man and told him so. That I just wanted to drive away. I MAY have been pregnant sobbing while relaying this to him. Pregnant sobbing is worse than the ugly cry, for the record. He listened and said he was sorry and we hung up. There was nothing else to say, really.

And truth be known, this is a house, not a baby, that we lost. It’s all about perspective, people.

So, I stopped and thought about all those words. Something about hope and peace and joy. Big, strong words. And I called upon the only one who can make them real in my life. I made the conscious decision to get up and dust and make that headband that I was planning on making. And cook our dinner. Because what else is there to do when you experience disappointment in life, both big and small? What else is there but to keep living joyfully in this day that you woke up thanking God for? Nothing. There’s nothing else to do. Everything else looks too much like holding on to false control. And crazy.

I sniffled out an apology to Adelle and explained to her the importance of obeying through tears. She watched intently and then said, “Why you cwying, Mommy?” And I said, “I’m just having a hard day. I didn’t get something that I really wanted but that’s no reason for me to act ugly.” And she leaned forward with a big hug and said, “I sowy I spit at you, Mommy.”

So we moved through the rest of the evening. Not flawlessly. Not even happily for the entirety. But we ended it with a pretty new headband and a happy dance and some really girly squealing.

It seems that how I started my day had everything to do with how I ended it. God’s Word never returns void and for that I am grateful.

Keep on keepin’ it down and dirty. Love y’all like crazy!

5 thoughts on “The start matters

  1. Ha… you're right. Pregnant sobbing is worse than the ugly cry. I pregnant sobbed over a broken car radio a few weeks ago… so I think you have a pass on the house… 😉

  2. You had me at 1909 farmhouse. SO bummed with you that it fell through, but as you said, it's all about perspective. =) I wish I had the energy to blog the potty training that is not really going on at our house. It's where Spencer screams at me that I can't count to twenty, I have to count to ten. And then, I can't count to ten, I have to count to ONE! Lol. At least he is learning math. And then there's the part where he's been sitting on the potty screaming at me for no less than ten minutes, and then he proceeds to scoot up to the tip of the potty and purposely pee on the stool in front of the potty. So as to NOT do what he knows he needs to do. And those are the funny parts. Wowser. =) I'm not trying to "beat" you on the bad day front, I just miss sharing things about life with you, so I apparently feel the need to do it via comments on your very public blog, lol! You're welcome.

  3. oh Em, how humbling to be taught a lesson (once again) by one of your own children. You are amazing and I so love you!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *