May 17, 2017
I’m simultaneously disappointed and not at all surprised by my ability to feel complain-y in the midst of so many abundant blessings. To feel so incredibly grateful for a house–a whole house!–and at the same time feel all in a hurry to buy furniture and figure things out and make every part of it perfect and useful. (As if that were even practical or possible only a matter of days after closing and moving in.) To recognize what a gift it is to be pregnant and have ultrasounds each week showing me that our baby is healthy and still be so grumpy about being uncomfortable and puffy and the size of a barge. To finally–finally!–have our gas turned on so we can have hot water and take showers and use the stove… and then grumble my way through the inevitable frustration of using a new shower for the first time. What is it that makes us so both ways?
I wish I could be all goodness and patience and gratitude. But instead all too often I find myself checking things off in my mind and then moving on to the next thing to rush through.
Trying so, so consciously to chill out and slow down and not bother worrying over all the things I can’t make happen all at once anyway. Like maybe I’ll get the LLC organized tomorrow, but maybe I won’t be able to release the quiet page patterns and kits before the baby’s born next month. And maybe we’ll get the desktop computer set up, but it’ll be on a folding table and in a spot that we end up changing our minds about in a few days. And maybe we’ll get some debts paid off, but not buy a new mattress or bed frame for a few months after all.
Contrary to social media, even the seemingly bigger moments in life (like buying a house or starting a business or growing a baby) come together one small bit at a time, day by day. And then the climax comes along (the house is officially bought! the business is formed! the baby is born!) and the very moment after it’s more small things, more days in single file.
Trying to keep my priorities in the forefront and not sweat the rest. Really trying.