Forgive me reader, for I have sinned. It has been many weeks since my last posting. Since then I have done many things worth exploring.
Writing does kind of feel like confession. I love writing, but in the moments or hours leading up to it there is an inexplicably debilitating terror which dissipates rapidly as I get into it. I generally learn something about myself and I feel better when I am through. I think of it as an obligation, but really it is for me.
With that thought in mind, I read through a bit of my blog. I should probably do that more often.
I do not spend most days dodging chaotic uproar or facing painful or difficult decisions, as the blog seems to suggest. I am not heroically happy, as was once suggested to me. I am completely un-heroic, and not always happy.
The deception is accidental. I use my writing to work through difficulties. I use it to find hope and joy and courage when I need it. I use it to beg for prayer. It does not occur to me to write when life is predictable, or even when it is unpredictably awesome. I do not think to use it to count my blessings. I do not often think to count blessings.
Tonight I will. Tonight, a deliciously, delightfully mundane list:
1. My girls are happy, healthy and asleep.
2. The air conditioner works.
3. That quinnoa recipe was amazing.
4. The lawn is mowed.
5. We have more tomatoes than we can eat.
7. Enough milk stored for Sarah that I do not feel guilty consuming grown up beverages.
I could go on, but one of tonight's blessings is that I have no further obligations tonight. Seize the hour! I am going to bed.