The call for redo circled around my
children this week. I found myself feeling like the red-headed step
child (no offense to red-headed step children). Seemingly good
things went unappreciated and like a sleepy toddler, I declared a end
to all nice things...forever. As if. In hind sight, I realize doing
nice things doesn't always generate the excitement you expect.
Realistically, I have two elevated and amazing children and I should
realize that bad days, or several bad days are par for the teenage
course.
A secondary redo is called and
retracted for the process of fluffing our nest. Eleven years of
primer in our bedroom was finally refreshed with a calming coat of
grey paint. The process required dresser drawers being removed, drop
cloths laid, switch plates removed, heavy furniture moved from it's
very fixed spot...One task requiring two or three additional
steps...very 'If You Give A Mouse A Cookie' type of a process. Knee
deep in Spring Cleaning needy furniture while Tim diligently painted.
Waiting for the swan to emerge from the ugly and very dusty
duckling. Walls finished and furniture replaced, I'm happy with our
new space. Piles gone, dust removed, it's a sweet, love-filled
place. Framing Tim's artwork to present a meaningful view versus a
quickly bought massed-produced print. Another often passed room now
features yellow curtains that spill butter colored light over a pair
of rustic piggies that make me chuckle. I suppose with any new
growth, some pains must occur. Accepting the pain and waiting
patiently for the grand reveal.
Week Eight brought me far too much free
time. Feeling like a spoiled-first-world-stay-at-home mom, but with
too much free time comes waste. Finding days that are structured are
more productive. By mid-week, I realized I needed a schedule.
Something I can rely on to fill my days. Work out, devotions,
time-structured cleaning (or else I'd clean all day or not at all),
leaving time for errands, writing, volunteering, or an impromptu lunch.
Too much time also left excess space
for thinking and dwelling. Easter was tough...her loss heavy in the
meaningful songs during church service, while preparing a meal for
the family, and resisting the urge to call her. Instead of dwelling,
I sought out a space to volunteer. Hoping that helping others will
redirect my pains. My problems aren't nearly as all-consuming and
destructive as others. Choosing to spread the love instead of
keeping it hidden under a depressed and broken basket.
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