There is no coincidence in the fact that I haven't posted since December (December!) and the fact that this winter, more than any other, is wearing me down.
I don't have to go over the particulars of the weather with you - you've seen the news. Snow! Snowpocalypse! Snow-maggeddon! And in between the snow, ice storms, slush in the streets and negligent homeowners who don't clear the sidewalks. (That alone is something for a post, all by itself)
Winter is fundamentally kicking my ass across the pavement.
Granted, I do try to keep a "this too, shall pass attitude" about things.
But, the 17-month old is climbing all over everything he can get his chubby little legs over. Lately he's taken to scaling the entire chaise, so that he can climb over the back and perch in the window, lifting the blinds and looking outside "UT! UT!" he said, so proudly.
And the girl is 3 and a half. Nuff said.
She is so full of Everything. Of questions, curiousity, imagination, and attitude. Honestly, I think you could power a small country off the energy generated by one of her tantrums.
I have only so much I can give, so much I can do in a day. And to not give my utmost at this job, it makes me sad, which then makes it so much harder to get it done. I want to wallow, to rest, snuggle deep in the blankets and not emerge until the daffodils are blooming. But I can't. There is breakfast to make, rooms to clean, clothes to wash and fold. There are hugs to give, cheeks to kiss and boo-boos to heal. There is dinner to cook. Questions to answer. There is life in the mundane.
Kathleen Norris, poet and theologian wrote that in the mundane, in the quotidian tasks that women (mostly) find themselves repeating, there can be found a sort of liturgy. They can become a form of prayer and worship, and in doing so, they can become acts of love that transform us and the larger world around us.
At least that's how I'm going to try view it for the rest of the winter.