We are two months into six whole months of living in America, land of the free and home of Dr Pepper.
I had such high hopes for my time here in the States– I wanted to write and organize our family photos and plan for home school for next year and spend deep, fruitful time in the Word. I wanted to refresh and revitalize and revamp some things about my life, my thoughts, my systems, my routines.
Really none of that is happening. Sometimes I’m resting. Mostly I’m feeling worn out. Always I’m mothering. Never I’m getting ahead.
The floor stays crumby. Lunches and snacks must be packed for school every day. Homework is explained and accomplished together. Books are read. Children are disciplined. Adoption paperwork is chipped away at. Prayers are said. Soft, damp hair is pushed back from sweet faces and cheeks are kissed. And then I watch Netflix with my husband and go to bed because I don’t have any more energy to give to doing anything else.
I don’t ever want to complain about grace… let’s be honest– it’s lavished upon me in ways I’ll never deserve, much less comprehend. But for here and for now, it’s like I just have grace to get through the days, wipe the bottoms, make the meals, prepare for the adoption and not much else.
This is really turning into a downer of a post, but I have wanted to be in this space more. I imagine a steamy cuppa perching delicately beside the open laptop as my fingers breeze across the keys telling stories, but lately it’s more like draining a cup in two hefty swigs before getting on with the day.
Ah, life with kids.