Little Bird

I'm restless. I'm grumpy. I don't want to do anything. Or be around anyone. I can't settle down to a task. I read a few pages, then put the book down to start a load of laundry. I tidy one room, then give up because it will just be messy again in a few minutes. It takes me days to realize it's the end of March, and that's really what's affecting me. Easter is in a few days. It's early this year, but I'm still thrown. This is the downturn. The spiral into grief, the drop in all productivity. Suddenly it makes sense to watch The Bachelor, even though I haven't watched the show in years, and don't find the majority of it enjoyable. And it makes sense to listen to songs I haven't wanted to hear for years. And it makes sense to walk around in a rage storm because everything feels meaningless without her . Every year I think it's going to be better. Every year I think maybe I'll make it to May before it becomes so hard to function,

In my previous community posts I wrote about how God has been asking me to step into community. Even though I drag my heels and whine about being an introvert He keeps pointing out people and situations and nudging me to invite and ask. And in the process He is teaching me how I can be in community and still have solo time. As I was switching the laundry this afternoon I was thinking about the friend I had over this morning. This is a friend I don't have to be "on" with. Aren't those the best kind?! We just parent each other's kids, serve snacks, and putter around together until it's time for her to go. Today I felt like I gave her something she needed - a place to be on a hard day - and that was nice. I can do that. I like  doing that. I want people to feel like they can come over, kick their feet up, and be . I want a sign next to our door: we don't stand on ceremony here. (And I will probably feed you. I can't seem to stop myself) I don't

I really was going to write here more. I was going to dive in, take all of the posts out of my head, and off the scraps of paper that accumulate around the house like driftwood after an ocean rocking storm, but it never happened. And I think it might not happen until the kids are a little older. If ever. Our family is in a nice slow routine of preschool, and playdates, and church, and dinners from scratch, and learning how to be. We're mostly introverts. We like books. We love walks in the rain. The house is coming along, though the projects are endless. The dog is slowing down noticeably. I can see our time with her waning. I have shed so much anxiety this year, but I still hold some closely. I can drop B off at preschool without a backward glance, but this afternoon when Ainsleigh was being over dramatic about trying a piece of sour kiwi I tiptoed into her room mid-nap to check her breathing. Just to make sure. Just in case. No child of mine is going to die from a random sou