It’s a strange thing, the way time and circumstances change our priorities and our limits.
Priorities: I’ve often used weekends to catch up on work, but now it seems more important to watch an old movie and eat popcorn with Daddy than to “get a jump on next week.” I don’t think I was even aware of birds in my yard—not in a conscious way anyhow—until I was stranded with them for a couple of years. Now I buy birdseed on the regular. I used to have all kinds of projects I wanted Dave to work on and holiday stuff I wanted us to do together. Now I just want him to feel good and be healthy. I want everybody to feel good and be healthy.
Limits: I think my priorities have gotten bigger, but my limits have gotten smaller. For example, I can make it through a kitchen remodel, but don’t ask me to live with that overrun bedroom closet another second. I’ve been cleaning out big sections of it as I have time. A sister-friend told me that cleaning out the closet was my way of exerting some control over the chaos we’re going through right now, and she’s right. Another way to put it: I need to see what I’m dealing with. Jammed-together hangers, each once draped with jeans I don’t wear any more (because who are we kidding they don’t fit any more)? No can do. Overflowing storage boxes with shirts that were worn out last year? Can’t take it. I need to see what I’m dealing with and what I have to work with.
Also, there are a few comforts I’m especially grateful for right now. Some are big, like time with family. Others are small: cozy slippers that feel like clouds wrapping my feet, a few strings of white lights, our tabletop tree covered with bird ornaments from Cracker Barrel (I had to do something while I waited for Dave’s breakfast during our kitchen redo). A warm throw that Aunt Grace gave me. The kiddos next door popping in for Oreos and Yoo-hoos. Coffee.
We had a quiet Thanksgiving. We’ll have a quiet Christmas. And quiet, I’ve learned, can be good for you. Reminds me of a song written by Lucinda Williams—she’s listing all the things she thinks she should have, among them “pens that won’t run out of ink and cool quiet and time to think.”
Wishing you “cool quiet and time to think” on this December Sunday.
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