Off Days

Saturday, January 11, 2020
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Now that winter break is over and I am back to my day job, I feel the exhaustion all over my body. The first day back, I came home, took some pain reliever and spent the evening on the couch. Gradually I became used to the extra activity, but I felt a bit of frustration. I do not have a physical job. In fact, I think I spend too much time sitting a great part of the day.  But something about being at work, just uses a tremendous amount of energy.

I had my Saturday planned. I would do some light straightening, some laundry, nothing serious or strenuous. The weather promised to be nasty, so it was going to be a hygge day spent reading, websurfing, playing with my business stuff, and generally enjoying being alive. My husband budgeted a whole $50 because I am dying for new clothes (because all my extra-and not so extra- money is being thrown into the previously mentioned business), so I would search for deals online. Of course, I planned to get up around five and quietly awaken and go through my spiritual practices as I coffeed myself up adequately.

And then, of course. Life. At four a.m. my toddler was knocking on his door. I opened it and he said one word as he stood there naked. "Poop." I looked around expecting a mess, but he pushed past me, went into my bathroom, retrieved his potty, went to his room, pushed me out, and closed the door.

I could live with this.
It was short-lived however. I noticed my phone had come unplugged and scraped the wall as I was plugging it in. It wasn't long before he was crying and knocking on his door. I went back. He was staring at the wall in fear, crying, and saying, "Wall." The noise had scared him. This started when his pesky older brother started knocking on another wall to creep him out. Now any knocking when he is in his room scares him.

So I brought him to my already crowded bed, because sometime during the night my seven-year-old had come in. But he never went back to sleep. Eventually we stumbled downstairs to start the day. The seven-year-old awoke and followed. The seven-year-old is clingy. So my morning was not the peaceful, mind-enhancing morning I had planned. It is now 11, the toddler has just been put down for a nap, the house is messy, my phone has been snatched by a kid, and I sit here tired. And not feeling spiritual at all.

But it is Saturday, and we are making the best of it. I started a fire in the fireplace. I made homemade biscuits for breakfast (ignored that the seven-year-old said they tasted like playdough-they kind of did).  I ordered groceries. I deliberately left cocoa and chocolate chips off the list because I must lose the Christmas weight, if nothing else. And now I have a moment, however short, to type.

Some days are just off. Some days your best laid plans are knocked down. Your sleep deprivation continues one more day. The books sit unread. The patience you prayed for is wearing painfully thin.
Those are days when you just have to let go of your expectations. "Not my will, but yours," you think. You set your teeth, clean up the coffee the seven-year-old kicked on the carpet accidentally, make another cup, and try again. This time you REALLY let the aroma sink in (because who knows if you will actually get it in your body before it cools-or spills). You watch the flames dance in the fireplace, knowing, you are one with all the women before who sat in firelight gathering the pieces.

And then you can sit and marvel at the abundance around you. The walls and roof. The living creatures, human and not. The furnishings and decor and dishes and books, purchased one by one through your own labor. And maybe the day is off. And maybe the plans are shattered. But you are there, living one more unexpectedly beautiful day surrounded by plenty.

And your spirit soars anyway.

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