I've started this blog half a dozen times over the last few days only to be called away to something. God is definitely attempting to teach me patience and the gift of living in the moment (without the not-so-much-of-a-gift of overt frustration). Previously the idea of incompletion of everything (let alone the ability to even get it commenced in the first place) plagued me incessantly - now it has been...oh excuse me, I have a two year old with diarrhea with whom to contend.
I'm Back...to finish my sentence: now it (the completion of anything at all, or even the mere thought of completion) hasn't even been an issue because the whole situation activity-wise has been logarithmic - like an earthquake Richter scale in the amount that it has exponentially expounded in level is fantastical! And yet I am alive. And surprisingly sane.
My mother-in-law is resting on the couch: after an hour and a half trip that even our four year old was complaining about the speed of (to the post office and back normally takes about half an hour) in which I had to force myself to keep praising God for family in between diverting Diane from the middle of the road and pleading with our two year old to stay IN the wagon. Really: where else did we need to be? Why did it matter that it took so long? Why do I have to have everything done efficiently in terms of "time quota"?
And this is about all I have time for momentarily! Burgers sizzling in the grill pan (yes, Epicure and yes, amazing!), an underwear-clad toddler singing to herself (and serenading the rest of us), and laundry to yank from the line before incoming storm re-washes it! Toodles for now.
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