I’m drinking some honey-sweetened mate tea. It’s Tuesday afternoon. I’m halfway-through a sweet little crochet project for a beloved friend’s baby. The yarn is so bright and happy. Kind of like the way it looks outside.
My baby boy is 10 months old today. I can hardly believe it.
This day feels hopeful. The sun and the blue skies and the melting snow and the singing birds speak of a beautiful promise: the promise of spring. Spring always comes, doesn’t it? Don’t you love it that way?
My head is kind of itchy. Okay, it’s a lot itchy. But I get to finally wash my hair on Wednesday! Isn’t that lovely? Some of my dreads may decide to get crazy after the wash, but I’m blessed with the magical helping hands of dearly loved sister-friends. My dreads will make it through.
I don’t have a favorite color anymore because I just can’t stick to one. They’re all my favorite. These days, I do seem to gravitate toward a lot of mustard yellow, though.
Jack’s vocabulary has expanded greatly, and one of my favorite things is when he uses the words “mouse” and “house” interchangeably. And, when he thinks something is funny, he calls it “honey,” and when he sees me put honey in my tea, he calls it “money.” I could kiss him 2.4 billion times and still feel like kissing him some more. Especially now that he makes incredible smooching sounds when he kisses. Sweetness.
Last night, I awoke at 3:15 feeling like I could drink 3 gallons of water. I gulped some down and got out of bed. I went back to bed 20 minutes later, and as I fell asleep, I felt so keenly aware that my heart needs direction and my self, my created self, needs to belong. Not in a physical place. Just spiritually. And emotionally. I am asking God to give me his heart – not only for the people around me, but also for me. I know I am called to love myself – after all, how can I honestly love those whom I’m surrounded by if I don’t have a complete God-given love for the self he made me into?
We’re going to be moving soon. I really do promise to tell you more about all that when the last few details are ironed out. For now, I’m daydreaming about my future home with a smile across my lips. I envision fresh flowers in little vases, a frame full of pressed fall leaves and Queen Anne’s lace, an old worn coffee table and brightly-colored dishtowels. Oh, how wondrous it will be to have a small space of our own again.
And now, it’s time to get back to crocheting. Thanks for joining me for tea, friends.