Yesterday was fall.
Today is winter.
I should be happy that we kept away the snow for this long in Minnesota.
I should be thankful that the holidays are finally happening & this snow almost rings in to a white Thanksgiving.
I should be a lot of things.
But today I'm just cold. And wet.
And my skin is dry & itchy.
And I'm wondering if was I secretly was adopted, and if my real parents live in warmer climates.
Mom & Dad - it's time to tell me the tropical truth.
I've also been feeling super impulsive lately.
2 weeks ago I wanted to sell everything we own & move to a brand new place.
This week I had an impulse to chop my hair off & dye it some strange color - like orange or pink.
Today I want to buy cowboy boots, drink beer, & go country line dancing.
I think this might be my inner soul's way of telling me I am ready for some changes in my life.
Either that, or I should have not watched the CMA Awards last night.
Because of my work schedule this week, I've gotten to take Parker to both days of preschool this week. So Addison & I have had some major Mommy & Me time while Parker is in school.
I suppose this came at just the right time.
Because Addison seems to be clinging to my leg every night when I get home from work, wanting my undivided attention lately.
No matter how much time or love I give her, it never seems like enough.
So every morning after we drop Parker off at preschool, we go to the bakery, eat a doughnut & sip orange juice.
She tells me about school, her friends, why she loves the color pink.
How she wants a Hello Kitty sticker book for Christmas.
I put my phone down.
And I just sit there & talk to my beautiful, intelligent 4 year old.
Together we solve the world's problems. [More naps. Less fighting.]
And make our afternoon plans. [Build a snowman who looks like Olaf.]
And even though my world seems small & simple these days - I realized how peacefully quiet this chapter right here is.
Quiet can be a lot of things.
It can be sweet. And humble.
Or painfully cold.
Quiet can be isolating. Boring or uneventful.
Marked by waiting & growth.
Grieving or burying.
Quiet can be a loud reminder of what no longer is.
Or it can be peaceful & comforting.
It can be......well. A lot of things.
Maybe all of these at different times for different reasons.
It's so tempting to rush through quiet.
Quiet is awkward. And uncomfortable.
Probably because of how slow minutes tick by when you are quietly waiting.
Especially when you aren't even sure what you are waiting for.
Our culture breeds us for loud, exciting, and carefully marked plans.
No one prepares you for quiet, awkward, and living solely by God's grace.
In my need to fill this quiet time with good, helpful, & beautiful things, I've found some surprising methods to make the waiting just a bit more bearable.
The first thing I've fallen in love with is of course good books.
Before this year, I had maybe finished 3 books in the past 5 years. BARELY FINISHED.
Like I could barely tell you what these books were about.
I could tell you this was because I had 2 babies in such a short period of time.
I was too tired to bathe most days, let alone pick up a good book.
This year alone I have devoured close to a dozen books.
And each one of them have been purposeful books that I have needed in one way or another.
I don't find books.
They find me.
Someone buys it for me. Or borrows it to me.
One book I literally found in THE PARKING LOT of a coffee shop.
This my friend is a season marked living solely by God's grace.
Could you really expect anything different?!
The second part of healing has involved a strange new draw to country music.
Country just gets me.
Not just because of big hair, gun toting Republicans, & cute cowboy boots.
Although a little bit of leather & fringe might possibly make you into a better person.
I'm just sayin'.
I think country music just understands heartbreak & the need to forget better than anyone.
I blame my husband & my siblings entirely for this strange new change in my iTunes playlists.
The third is falling back in love with your roots - the things you've always loved, but got too busy, too important, or too tired to do anymore.
For me, that's taking long walks with my dog. Reading my bible. Writing in my journal. Watching Dawson's Creek. And eating a lot of bowls of potato soup.
It's wearing the cute shoes. Even when you have no place to go.
And paying attention when the woman in front of you at the grocery is a few dollars too short for her groceries. Blessing her. And being aware that your children are watching how you give unto others.
It's putting together photo albums & finally finishing baby books.
Buying the mustard coat from Zulily. Just because it's your favorite color.
Holding hands with your husband while you sleep.
And listening to your old Sheryl Crow CD.
These things that you enjoy categorically make you YOU.
Losing these things means losing yourself.
Embracing them makes life sweeter. Happier.
And makes the quiet more seemless.
I've done a lot of the loud, exciting, carefully marked plans.
Years that I lost because I was living too fast.
Rushing. Always rushing.
But this quiet....... it's something else.
Someday I'm sure I'll have a thousand things to say about this season.
And why it had to be exactly the way it was.
I'm sure there will be lessons learned & new life waiting on the other side.
But for now.
The children nap.
And it's so quiet, I can hear the snow melt off the trees.
I write. To remember what this season was like.
And why I am enjoying it - even though I can hardly understand it.
Why doughnuts & snowmen are enough.
And that waiting is much more bearable with mustard coats, cowboy boots, & Joey Potter to get you through.