thoughts

I think what I'm about to write is considered "stream of consciousness," random thoughts that are popping around in my mind right now. But I'm going to use bullet points, because I need my stream to be tidy and well-organized.

• I've always loved to write. As a child I filled countless spiral notebooks with stories (mostly just a lot of "Chapter 1's," but still...). Then I moved on to journaling, and writing letters. I wrote a heap of letters to Ben when we were dating, during a season of separation, and reading them now both proves my naivete at the time and reminds me of all the reasons we fell in love. And now I blog, more rarely than I wish, but as often as time and energy permit. I generally consider myself a gifted writer, not Pulitzer Prize material, but enjoyable enough to read. Today, though, I had the pleasure of reading the blog of someone monumentally talented, and I felt immediately and terribly insecure about my own writing. I ridiculed myself for thinking that anyone would want to read what I write and had to resist the urge to delete this entire blog and save the blogosphere from my uncleverly turned phrases. I have no inner resolution to this just yet, but I decided to write today in defiance of my own insecurity. Ha!

• I was cleaning the kitchen today. I love to clean. I love to put things into order and make my home pleasant and cozy. It's a cathartic experience for me, and always my go-to therapy when I'm angry or upset or worried. Today I wasn't any of those things, but I am having company tomorrow and my house is a disaster. So anyway, I was cleaning. The downside to cleaning is that it gives you time to think, and in my case, lots of time to worry. I struggle with anxiety and trusting God for the unseen on a daily basis (I don't think I'm alone in that), and today as I started washing up dishes all I could think about was money. We don't have enough of it, we can't seem to make it stretch the way we need it to, and even though we spend less and less we don't ever seem to have more and more. I started my inner dialogue of shame and regret for having lived above our means for a very long time and how much that is impacting us now, and I felt a heavy sickness in my stomach. I hate worrying. The Bible tells us not to worry. Period. God provides. Period. God is faithful. Period. I have witnessed His faithfulness in my life at so many turns that it amazes me that I can still be untrusting. So today, standing in the kitchen with a hundred burdens on my shoulders, I decided to start praising Him. I just started singing, loudly and triumphantly and determinedly. And God came. I love those moments when I feel peace wash over me. More often than not I let the enemy drown out God's gentle whispers, but today I listened and heard, and I felt peace.

• Our son Eli is 14 months old, and we're beginning to see moments of misbehavior and disobedience (not to mention tantrums and fits and meltdowns), and we're really struggling with how to approach discipline at his age. We've read the books, consulted our families and friends, googled it - and we find the same advice at every turn. Tell your child to stop and redirect him. Give him a time out - a very short time out - and explain why. Tell him, "Don't touch" in a firm voice with a grumpy face and move his hand - and if he continues, give his hand a little swat (or a flick, according to the pediatrician). But all we get, no matter what we try, is the most annoyingly adorable little giggle from our son. I keep thinking, "This is just the beginning. I can't believe this is just the beginning." Of course, this time is precious and fleeting and full of delightful moments, but some days... good Lord.

• My dog has a very touchy stomach. She's been on prescription dog food since she was a puppy and as a rule, does not get any people food. Until Eli started eating in the high chair and sharing his food with "deedee." I don't know what she got into today, but she has pooped and puked all over the house. Blech.

• I wish I was pregnant so that there would be an acceptable explanation for my still-protuding tummy.

• I got a call this weekend from an old college friend, Katrina Stewart. I met Katrina in our Birds of Prey class at NNC and became friends with her and her husband Marcus. We hung out with them a lot the first year we were married, when we lived in our tiny apartment on Sunnyridge with all of our borrowed furniture. Marcus and Katrina moved to Alaska shortly before Ben and I moved to Indiana, and they sold us their beautiful entertainment center. At the time, it was the nicest piece of furniture we owned, and we were so proud of it. We've kept in touch with them through emails and Christmas letters, but haven't seen them in seven years. So I thought it was ironic (don't roll your eyes if I don't quite understand irony - I told you I wasn't a very good writer) that on the weekend when we were finally selling the entertainment center at a yard sale, Katrina called to tell me that they were in town. I asked her if they'd like to buy it back, but she declined. She and Marcus are coming over tomorrow night to have dinner and take our little boys to the playground. I'm excited to reconnect with our old friends and reminisce about the days of cookouts and pumpkin carving parties.