Soaked in a bath tonight to end another typically undpredictable day. Grabbed my new and tasty book I've been dying to devour ever since I grazed on it at Barnes and Noble back a month ago. I don't waste a beat, for God knows this night "ending" at 8:30 pm with kids asleep in their beds is only a mirage in the desert, or maybe just a tease. Titus, sick with the flu, passed out at 7:30 only after two throwing-up-episodes, bless his soul. Shortly after his sick spell, you downed a bite of mac and cheese that was doused with more salt than needed for 1 box of macaroni let alone one bite! (you pride yourself in doing these things by yourself, bless your heart). We watched your big eyes pleading for help as your mouthful seemed to want to explode; you panicked then puked. Three vomits in one evening. Yeah. So much for the quiet unwinding by the fire. Although, it was a bit of a calming backdrop for these reckless events.
Earlier before dinner and daddy's return, you were sitting by me, Titus and the fire. Me with my nightly coffee cup in hand, attempting to warm myself after the first cold day we've had thus far in our 70-degree month of December. Titus having woke from a late night, sleepily joining the day again, playfully fooling us all that his flu was tapering off for good. I think it was in those cuddles in that moment that you declared, "Best day ever!!!" (as you have stamped on many-a-moments) I laughed, smiling, "Yes, you always say that." "Yes, but it really is!" you defended. I love it. You feel every minute, as every healthy child does. Yet you know how to express it in a way that makes adults shake their head with bewildering joy. I'm proud.
Besides the throwing up and the cranky flu baby, the day wasn't half bad! Especially when topping it off with a book that inspired me to write this letter. Yes, I sighed heavily at the thought of having to write again when it looked as though I might actually have the time. Nothing that a good writer, bath, candles, and Dr. Pepper in a wine glass couldn't cure (we didn't have any other red stuff).
She (Jen Hatmaker) had me laughing out loud with the first chapter of "7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess." She is a gal I wish I knew personally. I'm already thankful for her witty humor and rawness that leaps off the page: her bleeding heart. I am so inspired that I, too, am compelled to think I could also write a book someday. I laugh inside and embarrassingly hope no one will read this and laugh too.
A good friend of mine wrote to me today: "Sometimes I think people or books just kind of click in our spirit even before we read them or hang with them!" I totally agree! I was barely through with the introduction of this book and already promoting it on Facebook. What's the matter with me?! I guess it was the way the writing/subject/author made me feel like my soul had been wrapped like a pretzel through hers. Books and friends should be like kindred spirits. (Now affectionately remembering Anne with an e.)
I like to think God is placing books (and friends) in my path that will further me on in my writing, my passion, and my personal and spiritual life. This one is, and I'm not even through the first chapter.
I, too, like Rapunzel can now shout, "Best day ever!"...knowing I most likely will want to shout it at some point tomorrow...
isn't that how it should be?
I end my day thankful in soul and spirit.
Thankful for Pandora and headphones.
For my computer to write on.
For baths and candles and a husband.
A king-size bed beside me I get to snuggle into with him later.
For Jen Hatmaker.
Thankful for books.
For my Father who points the way and lifts my spirit.
Thankful for a lifestyle where holding my sick baby is absolutely possible without having to "call in sick to work," where I can drop everything and play "make-believe-we-are-kittens" with my daughter, where I have time to drive another Hot Wheel up and down my leg with my son (even if it takes me forcing myself to do it), and enjoy a leisurely stroll around the library fountain listening to my kids squeal with delight and freedom. For more than enough provision that I can give away a car-load of stuff to a thrift store without feeling even the slightest bit of need.
For a daughter who is puppy-dog giddy at the sight of popsicles and chocolate and books and lying in grass beneath trees, like me. Who soaks up the simple things of life with all of her senses. Those simple things that are God's little graces that, if we are paying attention, are the winds that carry us through the yuckiness that comes to kill, steal and destroy. That far outweighs any discomfort or even pain.
Thankful for another letter to my Sadie.