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Beautiful War

Biblical encouragement for women on the homefront

I keep dreaming that I paint the sky

paint

I keep dreaming that I paint the sky.

or some wide space.

I stand in a cool stillness,

facing an immense and quiet surface.

 

I look down.  My hands are heavy, dripping with gobs of rich color,

Smooth and cool.

I smear it, thick – one delicious handful, and then another –

Sweeping my arms wide,

Heaving my soul onto deep, white space in a joyful birth of creativity.

 

I stumble back,

Breathing hard, bursting with satisfaction.

I am ready to gaze at my masterpiece.

But before I can even take it in,

The colors leap to vivacious life, and the thing swirls before me, delighted in its own glorious being.

My breath stops in my throat… my belly… my brain.

The beauty almost kills me.

This creature has life I did not give it.
I want to watch it forever.

***

I startle awake… all is quiet and dull.

It was a beautiful dream.

I look down at my hands… they are empty and tired.

I ache to feel the colors again,

and the holy euphoria of creating.

I feel like I will always feel empty now.

 

I sigh, and wonder wistfully if my beloved Father will grant me a

Little piece of sky in His peaceful heavens, on which to heave my recovered soul –

In that day

When my sojourn in this sad place is finally over,

And I am free to create in peace and safety.

Where I won’t hurt anyone in my trying.

 

I try to lay the memory to rest, in a beautiful box on a quiet shelf.

But I keep dreaming that I paint the sky.

 

Then I walk in the other room,

and she turns her little face up to me, delighted that I am there,

and flings her arms up to be drawn in to my heart.

Her love is crisp and vibrant, intense and demanding,

bursting across the room like a fierce rainbow.

I see the flash of colors spin and twirl in her sparkling eyes.

 

 

And I weep –

My soul swirling with joy, and horror…

For I see my broken soul has already hurled itself,

But here, now, in this white space of sorrow and pain.

 

***

 

I don’t know when I first had the strange itch to paint. And “itch” is exactly what it was – like that nagging urge to grab the car keys and go buy your favorite treat?  It’s random, silly, and ridiculously powerful – that odd little desire just WON’T leave you be.  Well, that’s what I kept feeling… this weird feeling that my hands were full of paint, like, FULL of paint, and I had this strong itch to smear it all over a huge, empty wall.

It would pop into my mind every few months or so, until I started to pay it attention just because of its strangeness… and then it unfolded like magic.  First the nice part, when I paint this lovely… thing… barely understanding what it is I’m creating… and then about an hour or so later, my beautiful daughter (then about 10 months old) throws me this incredible smile when I walk into the room, and I SEE her. She and her brother are what I painted, and I did actually cry.

Not happy tears. They were horrified tears.  Because what I saw myself painting was lovely and pure and perfect and SAFE… from this terrifying world, it’s evil people, and the destructive evil lurking in my own heart… bitterness, selfishness, irritation, hurt, pride, manipulation.  The artful loveliness of her was FREE, and I felt like my daughter was not… because she had me for a mother, in my broken and struggling state.  And I did not, deep down where I felt things I didn’t think about, feel that I was really free.

It was all a very strange moment, sudden and hard to understand.  I wrote it down because I used to write poetry, before I entered this world of adulting… and it struck me a bit that a poem (of sorts… I still have a hard time accepting poems that don’t rhyme, even my own… hello, traditionalist) had come to mind after all these years.  It was like an old and familiar part of my soul was stirring awake again… a part of me that had somehow maybe slept through the pain and difficulty of the recent years.

I wrote it down, but I left it alone for a while… it was uncomfortable.

***

You see, it has taken me some time to accept a very simple and foundational fact about life: it’s broken.  No matter how hard I try, I cannot create heaven here on earth, and I cannot myself be unbroken for my babies.

Somewhere along the line, I had refused to accept these things, and my entire soul was tormented and fighting against reality.  Life was rough.

 

I wrote this poem when my daughter was 10 months old.  My husband was working at an oppressive job, and was often heart-heavy himself, though he did an amazing job at cheering me up.  We were living in low-income housing, most of the time had only one barely-functioning car, and a first child (my daughter was our 2nd) with multiple hospitalizations and a recent DCF investigation because of our natural-minded tendencies.  I was suffering some significant postpartum depression and denying it, and a lot of other past unfinished emotional business was coming to the surface.  I was oppressed by enormous feelings of guilt and obligation to family members, friends, and perfect strangers… I had a strange addiction to saying “I’m sorry” for anything and everything… I dreaded church, I didn’t know what kind of clothes I liked, what colors I liked, what my style was… I was afraid to be who I wanted to be… totally consumed and scared of what the people in my life thought of me… and I rarely made it through a single day without lots of tears, raging, and great frustration with my sweet babies, for… get this… for crying.  I hated it when they cried, and was truly convinced I could keep them from crying, if I just did all the right nurturing things.

I bet you moms are laughing at me right now. Yes, life had gotten truly miserable… but what can you expect from a strong-willed young idealist, 2 children under 2, and a belief that she could actually control life enough to keep babies from crying?

I was a mess.

But I am in love with and desperately dependent on a God who has a divine sort of knack with messes.  I was terrified and angry and in over my head, but He knew exactly what He was doing.

And He did something absolutely miraculous with my tormented heart, in that awful season of pain.

He healed me.

I know now, that there is no book out there, nor could I ever write one, that would give you any kind of 12 step plan to make your life better.  Human hearts are so much deeper and more complex than that.  But there is this amazing Creator I know, the one who fashioned my heart and soul in the first place, and if you stick it out for the journey?  There will come this sudden moment of… I’m here.

Like a quiet whisper, a frozen scene of silence, when the last stitch is sewn, the last puzzle piece nestled in place, and the camera pans back… and you finally understand.

It was all part of the creating.

God is not done creating.

Bear with me here: God is not done creating.

In my story, the postpartum depression, the clingy daughter, the hospitalizations, the DCF attacks on my character, the financial struggles, the emotional baggage back from before my marriage and mothering even began?  It was all part of the creating. It was the clearing of white space, it was the crushing of flowers and plants and dyes, the mixing of paints… it was the gentle hands of the Divine, reaching over and filling my hands with heavy and beautiful color, whispering in my ears, “You know you want to…” 

And yes, I wept when I saw my daughter.  Because I still had another four months of shlogging through the quicksand.  But then one day, the last puzzle piece nestled quietly in place.  I felt it, and the burden slipped off my shoulders like a physical weight.  There was a quiet murmur in my house, and my heart was suddenly, changed.

I loved my life.

All of a sudden.  True, the pieces had already been falling into place, during those four months: I was becoming confident in my own skin, at peace with the past, forgiving of my wounds, and understanding of my own shortcomings.  But four things happened very quickly one week, and they formed that last puzzle piece.  These were the four things:

  1. My husband surprised me with a belated birthday night, complete with flowers, chocolate, time alone, and lots of sappy things to say to me. 🙂 It filled my cup, big time, and in some way, opened a lot of doors in my heart for God to bring other things through.
  2. I realized that I was an introvert, and needed DAILY time, without any other human being in the room.  Literally, clock time.  So I started staying up an hour or two after the kids and the hubby went to bed, and it really helped me maintain my sanity.
  3. I stopped looking at God as merely a higher power in whose direction I could fling my desperate pleas and cries for help, and  I started understanding Jesus as a friend… someone who actually walks with me and hears me and is present with me in my daily work, as a friend.
  4. The game changer: I accepted the season of life that I was in at this moment, as beautiful and productive and the “writing of my story,” (as Sally Clarkson puts it).

And with those four things, the last puzzle piece completed the picture… and the picture was this: a woman who loves her life.

And I mean, LOVES HER LIFE.  She takes joy in her funny, unique little children, and in the constant work before her.  She accepts the challenges and loves them, cherishing the uniqueness of her family’s needs.  She understands, finally, that the home she’s building is not meant to be a perfect shelter to hide from the storm of life, but a place of miraculous restoration and recreation, of beauty, joy, and love.  She finally sees her role: to pick up when the enemy has destroyed… and rebuild.  She lets God crush the flowers, the plants, the dye… mix the paint… and clear the white space.

And she creates… and she paints… and God breathes life.

 

 

 

 

Back again

It has been close to a year since I last wrote on this blog, and I think I finally know why. 

I keep waiting for this moment of arrival… a crossing-of-the-line, when I stop being a hot mess who can’t seem to handle life, and start being a wise, kind, helpful voice of encouragement to others. 

I keep starting blogs when I feel I’m fresh and ready to cross the line… And then I completely croak, and don’t feel like writing anymore, AT ALL. 

But I think… I think I get it now. Maybe, lol. Maybe being a hot mess, and seeking to encourage others can really go hand in hand. If not, looks like I’ll be waiting till heaven to write…. But then it would be pointless.

I almost wanted to start a fresh blog again, but then decided to come back to this one. It is nearest to my heart, and most captures what I long to write about… My crazy war. Or the crazy war I find myself in. Not sure I want to own it yet! :p

I realize I’m not very eloquent this morning. But maybe its not always necessary to be? 

I just want other young moms and wives to know they are not alone in the hot mess. Its what I craved to know all last year, and its what bolstered my spirits the most. So, if you are a young mom and feel like you’re dying right now, I can definitely smile and tell you, it really is gonna be OK. 🙂 Some days, I need you to tell me that, but it really IS getting a little easier as I grow and learn and allow God to mold my heart and change me for the better. 

It DOES get easier. Hang in there. If you can’t fight, just stand. ❤ Help is coming. It is. 

Hugs! 

Beautiful, Beautiful War

I wrote the post below almost a year ago… and thought it worth pulling to the surface once again… if only for my own reminder. ❤ to all my fellow mamas out there… keep fighting your beautiful war. ❤
Melissa

***


My anniversary is coming up.

Not my wedding anniversary, per say.  It’s the anniversary of the day that it all started (“the Wednesday,” as my husband and I refer to it).  It was a Wednesday in July, when I found the courage to tell my long-time friend that I was head over heels in love with him.  He proposed six weeks later.  That was three years ago.

Whew.

I feel like I’ve been running an emotional marathon since that day… and that just in the last few weeks, I have launched myself over a finish line of sorts, gasping for air, aware of little else but the fact that I can’t feel my legs.

Now, don’t get me wrong; I am still desperately in love with my husband, and he is still my best friend.  I absolutely love being a mother – it is my dream job.  Marriage and motherhood have blessed me with heavenly bliss.  But they’ve also earned me a good healthy dose of oppositional hell, from the unseen powers that be (Ephesians 6:12).  If I’ve learned anything at all in these three short years, it’s been that marriage and motherhood is WAR.

If you are a married woman or a mother, or just a fellow human being, you may have come to the same conclusion… particularly if you have spent much time studying a certain beloved book of instructions and warnings about life from the One who created it.  Such provides a certain clarity to our otherwise crazy and senseless lives.

But take heart, fellow soldier… light always wins. ❤

This is an ugly war we wage, but it is also a beautiful war.  It is fought in the exhausting midnight hours when no one notices your pain and sacrifice… when you’ve given every ounce of sleep-deprived energy you have, and more is still required… when you are knocked off your feet by the intense and frightening depths of sadness, impatience, rage you had no idea you could be capable of… when you lose sight of the shore and feel like you’re going to drown… this is where the war is fought.

It is fought in a rocking chair, by a hospital bed, at the kitchen sink, and in front of the clothes dryer.  It is felt in the inquisition of doctors and teachers, the disapproving looks of friends, the accusations of the authorities that be.  It is spent in desperate prayers, angry fists, nagging doubts, and vicious fears.  And it is won… by surrender.

Ironic 😉

If you have experienced childbirth, apply the metaphor… what happened when you fought the pain?  You held that baby back, and hurt yourself more in the process.  And what happened when you surrendered, and worked with the pain, allowing your body do what it was made to do?  You brought forth life!

And that, is beautiful.

So whether you feel like a war hero right now, or like the saddest mess that ever tucked a college degree in her back pocket… to you I say: well done, warrior maiden. ❤

I wrote this in the front cover of my bible 7 years ago… it is still one of my favorite verses. I hope it is some encouragement for you today.

“Don’t be afraid!” Elisha told him. “For there are more on our side than on theirs!”  Then Elisha prayed, “O Lord, open his eyes and let him see!”  The Lord opened the young man’s eyes, and when he looked up, he saw than the hillside around Elisha was filled with horses and chariots of fire.  ~ 2 Kings 6:16 & 17

 

Be of good cheer, my lovely sisters… fight bravely on your sacred home front, wherever that may be… we are not alone! ❤

Who you were

endoftheday

For all the overwhelmed moms out there, crumbling under the weight of your to-do lists… I hope this little nugget will be as much of a relief for you as it was for me.

Let this one sink in for a minute:

What you GOT DONE today, will never be as important as WHO YOU WERE.  

It is sinking in?

This is the greatest gift you can give your children.  At the end of the day, this is what matters… at the end of their childhood, this is what they will remember.  The laundry can get backed up, the dishes can wait, the bills aren’t going anywhere, and the rest of the world will just have to CHILL whether you’re on time or not.  Yes, we have a million things to do as moms, and nobody except God ever really sees just how much… but if we are not careful, our desire to conquer that to-do list once and for all can swallow up what really matters to our kids, our spouses, and ourselves if we stop to think about it.  Never mind what you didn’t get done today.  Who WERE you?  Were you peaceful? Were you gentle?  Were you encouraging? Did your kids know today, without you ever having to tell them, that you love being their mom?

Nobody has reached perfection yet, so even when we do have the right perspective and priorities, we all fail at these things some days (or every day, in my case right now:/).  So don’t beat yourself up.  I know – Gee thanks, add all that peaceful stuff to the grand list of all the things I never get done! 

Like I said, none of us has reached perfection yet… we’re all right there with ya!  But we press on… and better to press on to a perfectly loving heart, than a perfectly running schedule.  Right?

Being a mom takes sooooo much energy. Don’t waste it all on things that fade away.

Happy Mothering ❤

Your Strength is Too Small

trees path

So, I’ve had a lot to catch you up on… just not enough time to do so. 🙂  Those of you fellow mommas with young children can use your imaginations!

This is a bit of my story.

I struggled a lot with postpartum emotions after Hannah was born.  The first 2 months were a lot more miserable than I cared to admit to anyone (denial! I do it well).   I finally started to freak out a little when I realized I couldn’t make it a single day (sometimes not even an hour) without breaking down in tears and intense frustration.  I couldn’t understand why everything was SOOOO HARD!!  I mean come ON… I’ve handled classrooms of 20-30 kids with poise and finesse.  I’ve worked in clinical day treatment schools, responding with God’s unending, supernatural love and grace to all sorts of physical and emotional hostility.  I’ve worked 14 hour days before.  I’ve worked on 1 hour of sleep before, many times.  SO WHY CAN’T I HANDLE A QUIET HOUSE AND JUST 2 SMALL CHILDREN?!?!?!?

It was maddening.

I prayed.  Constantly.  I drank herbal tea.  I thought happy thoughts.  I ate chocolate.  I ate ice cream.  I ate green things.  I “got out.”  All those things helped a little, or even a lot, for the moment.  But nothing was really working.  Nothing was changing.  I wasn’t changing.

Then one day, while numbly and randomly flipping through my Bible, trying to find some gem of a lifeline to pull me out of my muck, I came across Proverbs 24:10, “If you fail under pressure, your strength is too small.”

Well!  I flipped the book shut in annoyance.  I might as just throw in the towel, because clearly, I suck at life.  THANKS, SOLOMON. I DIDN’T ALREADY KNOW.

But, like all quiet nudges from the Holy Spirit, this one stuck with me.

Then a few days later, I was walking out a local store, and I saw a demon in the parking lot.

Not joking.

I know a few of you may check me off your list for that comment, but bear with me… I’ve never seen something like that before.  I know they exist (see: Bible), but I really don’t know (or care to know, admittedly) much about them at all.  But this thing freaked me out.

It looked kinda like a human being… but it was not.  That’s all I will say. Except for the one thing that matters right now, in this context: it smiled at me.

Taunting. Gloating.  As if it knew how much of a failure I was feeling like.

And my heart sunk.  I know as Christians we say all the time, “the battle is already won,” but it’s not entirely true… the WAR is already won, but we are still fighting every day… and at that moment, my heart had to face the truth: I am not winning right now.

Two days later, I sat at a little desk in my kitchen, looking out the window into my back yard.  The kids were actually sleeping at the same time, and the house was quiet… you could only hear the birds singing happily and the leaves swaying outside through my open windows.  It was lovely. I stared miserably out the window, thought for a minute, picked up a pen, and wrote this down:

“I have a kind, loving husband.  I have two healthy, adorable kids.  We are home, not in a hospital anymore.  I live in a lovely house, that we can afford only by God’s grace and our landlords’ kind generosity.  There are trees in the backyard.  I have plants, a bird feeder, a clothesline… the Lord knows I take delight in these things, and He made a way to give them to me.  We’ve been blessed with a 2nd car (miraculously); I can take the kids anywhere, whenever I want.  They sleep pretty well at night.  They often nap at the same time.  I have a cabinet full of good tea, a little white desk, pretty calendars and notebooks, and a Bible I am not in danger of loosing my life for owning and reading.  My husband cheerfully takes a shift with the kids now and then so I can get out for a bit.  So why do I feel like this?”

And the answer was whispered in my ear: “The battle is not outside me; it is within.”

Duh. I knew that.

But somehow, my heart hadn’t connected the dots till that moment.  Suddenly I understood: nothing outside of me was responsible for my misery.  It was all coming from inside me.

And thus began a month-long (and still going) therapy session with the Holy Spirit… for someone who has denied counseling for years. lol.

I feel like my heart has been through boot camp.  I feel freer than I have felt since very young childhood (when you feel free just because you are alive), and I have learned things about myself that I had NO IDEA existed.

I will share a few things I learned, but that’s for another day. 😉

For now, I encourage… nay, beg you to ask the Holy Spirit, “walk me through my heart.”  It a painful journey to be sure, and exhausting beyond measure.  The LORD is patient beyond belief with our stubborn souls, but He can also be breathlessly swift when we are ready to listen and learn.  Follow the lead of the only One who’s strength is big enough for the battle. The air is glorious out here, in the freedom His spirit offers… trust me, it is so more than worth the pain!!

I can truthfully say, I am tearfully thankful for the misery I experienced after my daughter was born.  Yes, I’m sure there were plenty of hormones involved, but a huge percentage was stemming from years of backlogged emotions and experiences I had not yet allowed the Holy Spirit to work through with me yet.  And since that day, about a month ago, looking out at the trees in my backyard and finally asking “WHY,” and really wanting Him to teach me the answer?  I have not gone back.  Sure, life is frustrating, and I’ve definitely been emotional (I think that’s just part of being a lady 😉 ), but the darkness I was feeling has completely left… because I am free.

For the Lord is the Spirit, and wherever the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.” ~ 2 Corinthians 3:17

Let Him walk you through your heart!

 

 

What It’s All About

flower

Joy.

It was a startling shaft of clarity, freeze-framing my morning of crying babies, clingy toddler (who has randomly taken up scratching me today… what’s up with that?), spit-up on favorite skirt, I’m-dropping-everything-and-it’s-so-annoying moments, and one of the most disastrous poopy diapers I’ve ever experienced (which wouldn’t be so bad, if it weren’t the 5th disastrous one in 48 hrs, and the fact that I JUST washed that baby seat cover… like, an hour ago).  All within the first 23 minutes of my day.

I invited some ladies over to pray tonight. I guess I should have expected that.

Have you ever finally planned something GOOD, and suddenly it seems like all hell explodes in your face?

I know that sounds awfully dramatic, but if you’ve ever experienced this, even Anne Shirley’s “the stars in their courses fly against me” does NOT feel like an overstatement.

I feel like that right now. I’m trying to laugh it off (because it IS kinda funny, on a level), but I know it’s only 8:14 in the morning. This could be a LONG haul.  I so desperately want to finish the day strong, but WOW I am weak and easily frustrated these days (years). Parenthood is humbling for sure.

Prayers appreciated!

Anyway. In the middle of the chaos, I muttered something about joy, and suddenly I understood. Joy.

That’s it. It’s all about joy.

It’s the one thing the opposition wants to steal, and (consequently), the hardest thing to maintain when you feel attacked by little invisible devils.

So how do you win?

Joy.  Hold fiercely to your joy!  We both know you need to call in the big guns for such an impossible feat… but perhaps He is eagerly waiting for you to do just that.  Think of it… Jesus is the ultimate lover of your soul… and a true lover takes delight in rescuing His beloved.  He’s just waiting to be asked.

The joy of the Lord is my strength.

Find joy in Him, and fight strong today, my sisters (and brothers)!  You are not alone.  Your joy is the most precious thing you have, and it is worth fighting for.

 

 

Slow Down

One of the sweetest, most powerful “shut up, stop complaining, and enjoy those BEAUTIFUL children” moments I have ever experienced.  Please watch.  This woman has a gift from God.

I hurry my children up, all the time… when if I stopped and thought about it, that is the last thing I want them to do.  Humbling tears.  Thank you Lord for the sweet reminder.

 

Reminders of War

World4free.in

This is ridiculous, I thought.

I had done everything right this morning… I was up early, I was prepared, I paid LOTS of attention to both children, I kept the house clean, I even did some cooking, the dishes were done, I did “school” (educational play) with the toddler, and carried the infant around in my new sling (so fun btw, and she loves it:)).  I timed their mornings PERFECTLY.

So: they should both take a lovely, long nap, right?

Hannah fell asleep right on time.  Then I got Christopher snuggled in to a much-needed nap.  He took about 2.5 minutes to fall asleep, curled up next to me in his monkey blanket. He’s adorable.

I could all but taste my quiet, all-by-myself lunch and mommy time. I barely got my rice in the microwave.

And then Hannah started crying.

WHAT.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

I hurried in to scoop her up, and kissed her pudgy little face. She was so happy to see me, and cooed in delight, nuzzling my shoulder. Yeah, my heart melted. I love my little girl.  But I confess, part of me was SOOOO irritated.  Not at her, just… ya know… whoever was responsible for allowing my perfectly timed day to… well… not be perfectly timed!!!

As I tried to nurse her back to sleep, I faced my irritation. Dead on. I really should be used to this by now… I mean, what arrogance, to assume I can control this kind of stuff.  But COME ON.  I just want to eat some lunch!  And read… and relax… and be alone.

Yes? Anyone else?

I can’t accept the face that this just “doesn’t happen” in mommy-land.

(And I know some of you are thinking “Girl, you’ve got NO idea… trying going YEARS without more than 3 minutes to yourself!”  I know I’m being whiny.  Props to moms with greater challenges that mine!)

I sighed, and watched her cute little self… so happy and snuggled up against her mommy. I thought, what an amazing thing, that I get to be her one and only source of comfort. What an incredible, breath-taking privilege.

But I still want her to go to sleep. Please, Lord.

And then two things came to mind, simultaneously: 1) Oh, right. Beautiful War. I still find myself wanting life to be perfect, when I need to accept that this life is not perfect, and I can’t make it so. If I remember that life is a battle, and arm myself to accept the curve balls with peace and grace, things turn out a lot smoother.  It’s when I subconsciously expect perfection that I let down my guard… and get hit.  2) I had about 3 minutes before Hannah woke up, and what did I do?  Keep rushing around. I didn’t stop at all to breathe, relax, and thank God for those 3 minutes while I was living them.  I just rushed right through, greedily eager to maximize the time… not realizing how short it would be.

Because really, I think most moms know, that just 3 minutes can be enough to get you through… if it has to… and if you live those 3 minutes RIGHT.

I lay there next to Hannah, realizing that if I had taken those precious moments to just breathe, look at the leaves swooshing peacefully out my kitchen window, and thanked God for my babies… this house… this peace… this day?  Then I probably wouldn’t be feeling the way I felt right then.

I sighed. Looked at my little girl, slowly drifting off to sleep. I thanked the Lord for the reminders, and asked Him to please let my babies sleep peacefully… and to give me the grace and peace to love them well if they did not.

Hannah slept. She is sleeping still. And now that I have shared this little lesson of mine with you all, I am going to spend some more time with the One who gave me these little angels, so I can hold on to my joy and gratitude for the rest of this lovely day!

And then, if they are still sleeping, I am going to look up Christmasy things.  Because I’m weird that way. 😉

Happy Monday!  May you find the joy in it. ❤

Wake up Fresh

dont-start-your-day-with-the-broken-pieces-of-yesterday-every-morning-we-wake-is-the-first-day-of-the-rest-of-your-life-quote-1

This morning, my sweet girl woke to nurse just before 4 am.  When she drifted back into the cuteness of baby sleep, I was then faced with the eternal choice: get up now, kinda tired, and start my day before they all wake up?  Or curl up under the covers for 2 more hours, and wake up groggy, already feeling behind?

I chose to get up.  Not because I felt like it… but because I REALLY dislike feeling groggy and behind.  I was mostly afraid to fall back asleep, lol.

I have to say though, I have never regretted getting up early.  That’s hard to remember when you’re faced with the same decision the next day, though.  😉

It stormed fiercely outside, while I played my George Winston and gathered my bearings for the day.  Yesterday was made me weary of heart… but today is new.

Here’s hoping you are also able to sigh, smile, let go and wake up fresh. 🙂  Happy Tuesday!

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