I've been consumed with crankiness as of late. Nothing makes me happy. I dislike homeschooling, travelling, slim pickings for breakfast and squabbling, rambunctious children.
I dread waking up in the morning only to start a new round of assigning chores and school work. And thus, the problem is likely to be me.
Disheartening.
I would, in fact, love for my evil moods to be someone else's fault. Except for one thing: the chance for improvement would lie solely within someone else's realm. Dependent. Another word I dislike.
And so, I do what I would do for my children. I gently coax the offender down for a nap and begin anew upon awakening. Limiting blame, but redirecting myself towards the desired behavior. Hopefully it works better than housebreaking small dogs.
If that fails, I'll meditate on my reading last night. Christ did not conquer death that I would forever dwell in my sorrow and anger. He died and rose that I would live in triumph and abundance. Thanks be to God for second, third and fourth chances.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Laughing out of the side of my mouth
I always think I'm going to write home when we travel. To whom exactly, I do not know. I think how I'll say that sometimes travel is boring. How it's just living. Procuring food at grocery stores, laundry, stomach bugs and school work. Life.
Other times, children dance through a fine mist in the evening shadows. Morning mist wears off and mountains appear on the return hike from the grocery store. I meet a stranger who offers comfort and wisdom. I watch a stranger cry at the sight of dolphins and wonder at the source of her tears. My own fount threatens to pool.
I tell my daughter our trips are not necessarily meant to entertain. She struggles with this. Travel must have a definitive purpose in her preferred world. Vacation, family, work. There must be a destination and goal.
Sometimes, I tell her, one travels not to vacation, not to run away or to fulfill a checklist. One travels for the privilege of living a day to day life in another setting. Travel humbles.
The uncomfortable and the unfamiliar call, seducing yet another innocent.
Other times, children dance through a fine mist in the evening shadows. Morning mist wears off and mountains appear on the return hike from the grocery store. I meet a stranger who offers comfort and wisdom. I watch a stranger cry at the sight of dolphins and wonder at the source of her tears. My own fount threatens to pool.
I tell my daughter our trips are not necessarily meant to entertain. She struggles with this. Travel must have a definitive purpose in her preferred world. Vacation, family, work. There must be a destination and goal.
Sometimes, I tell her, one travels not to vacation, not to run away or to fulfill a checklist. One travels for the privilege of living a day to day life in another setting. Travel humbles.
The uncomfortable and the unfamiliar call, seducing yet another innocent.
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