On Listing: No. I’m not bored; I’m actually having fun.
Have I ever written about how much I LOVE lists? Now that I think about it, it’s clearly a miracle that my blog is not one little list after another. I often make them for no reason at all. Today I listed all the meals I know how to make. Really, though, I did that because when it’s time for somebody to cook dinner, I usually just sit there and say, “I can’t think of anything good that I make.” And so we order pizza. Again.
I once had a list of all the guys I had kissed. I have a list of books I want to read. I make a Christmas list by October. If I lose my grocery list, I turn around and go home. A few weeks ago, I fell asleep on the couch, and then I shot up and said, “Let’s make a list!”
This morning I made a list to God, and it was the best list. I didn’t write it down. I just said it to Him.
You are in control. You already know how my babies will struggle. You already know who will buy my house. You already know when I will take my last breath. You already know when … how … who … where. It was a long list.
And, then, the day was beautiful.
Jude woke at 5:30 and Isaac at 5:45.
We had our quiet time, learned a verse, and prayed.
We ate fruit loops for breakfast – twice each.
We talked about why Mary was scared of Gabriel.
Isaac told me that God would be at pre-school while he wrote I’s on a writing tablet.
I loved saying “writing tablet.”
The beer fumes from my bread starter ARE sour and GET me in the jaws.
Instead of adding to the starter, I accidentally poured 1/4 cup of sugar in the bread maker.
Two of my pictures are hanging crooked, and I haven’t fixed them.
I took my vitamins but haven’t had much water.
When my brother called from New York in his skinny pants in Chinatown and he asked me what I was doing, I said, “wiping smushed bananas off my kids.”
It may not sound like a blast, but my life is whizzing past me right now. I feel like last week I was sleeping under a tin roof with dirt under my nails. I brought my Mama bitterweed, and she said “thank you” and put them in a Mason Jar with water so they wouldn’t die, and then she sneezed for days. I talked too much, so Daddy got us to play the game where you list all the things you hear. There were dogs, trucks at the asphalt plant, whippoorwills, cicadas, somebody weed-eating, and Daddy breathing loudly through his nose
— just like I am right now and just like Jude is, too.
That was a kind of stream-of-consciousness list – in case you were wondering. I mean, to me, any sort of list is right up there with poetry or even strawberries covered in grainy sugar. Yum.