The sky was pale yellow this morning on my walk, with a big cloud overhead the color of a bruise. In front of me, the clouds were pink. The mountains were blue.
I’m practicing mindfulness, and you guys, it’s working. I am utterly relaxed. I can’t even work up a curse word when Jack pees all around, but not in, the toilet. Mindfulness. It’s like magic.
I drove Henry to merit badge pow wow. I picked Henry up from merit badge pow wow (last one, yippee!). I took out the kitchen garbage, twice. I Windexed. I swept. I moved laundry.
Dutch cleaned up the poo room. Henry made eggs. Charlie picked up the toys. Truman whined. Jack did angry tongue face.
The boys ate happy meals. Dutch cleaned the leaves out of the garage. Charlie got a giant Star Wars birthday balloon and banners. I worked on my Sunday School lesson.
Dutch and I went on a date.
We watched The Finest Hours, and I unwittingly compared my life to a sinking oil tanker. Not in a depressing way, but in an I Am Being Inspired By This Inspirational Turbulent Ocean Rescue Movie Because It Kind Of Reminds Me Of My Life kind of way.
If you haven’t seen it, I won’t spoil anything. I’ll just say that there is an oil tanker that sustains major damage and the shiz gets real.
I watched it, happy, because Chris Pine. Also, because I felt like that torn-up tanker was an apt simile for my family’s life. It’s a falling apart mess. It’s cold, wet, and blowing. And we are stuck here.
But the tanker was what they had. It was where they were. It wasn’t their forever home, but a vessel to take them in between places. And for all its cracks and damage, it held them until something better could.
The same is true of life in my house with my people.