It’s just me and the dog at home… for 24 hours now. It’s still and quiet and slightly weird.
Another migraine left me at home while the rest went to see Mama and Papa. I’m torn. Shouldn’t I be the one to go to my parent’s home? And, yet, I love that they are my man’s parents now too and he goes without me.
I love that my dad is willing to take my mancub alongside and teach him some skills… helping Eric complete a woodworking 4H project. Time together in Papa’s shop is so much more than learning how to sand and plane and build a table. The time is the gift, the lesson is the whipped cream and cherry on top.
I love that my girls are scrapbooking with their grandmother today. I love that I am not there to make sure everyone is on their best behavior… sharing scissors and not fighting over stickers. My mother raised four children… she is quite accomplished at handling sibling rivalry. And, amazingly, there is probably little fighting going on in Grandma’s presence.
Yesterday, they left me tucked into bed in a very dark and quiet room. I was too sick to miss them… today I miss them immensely. I frittered minutes away this morning doing laundry, dishes, etc. feeling slightly discombobulated… missing the noise and chaos, their companionship and love.
Finally, a cup of tea and honey and a phone conversation with a friend and I get it. I taste it. I taste the sweetness of the honey and taste the sweetness of this time. I remember the younger me… the one with crying babies and toddlers at my feet wishing for just a few moments of quiet. I remember the last week me… driving all around town hurrying here and there and not tasting the coffee that I inhaled. I remember the yesterday me… so very sick. Wishing for just a moment’s peace from a pounding head and upset stomach.
All of me wishing for some peace and quiet and when the peace and quiet comes, I don’t immerse myself in it and taste it for what it is.
blessed is the one who takes refuge in him.