Keeping it real.

I don't feel so glamorous today, even though deep down, I know I am. Somewhere in there, I'm still a happy, thankful, beautiful girl.

It's been a hard week; nothing huge in and of itself, but pile them all together, and I feel the reality of life in my veins and my wrinkles. I wouldn't trade my experiences for anything. Growing can be painful, but it's growth that I so desperately want and need.

My toddler had the chicken pox this week; if Baby doesn't get them, I'll know it is from the intervention of God. I know He can deliver me. I know that for myself.

My bone and gum graft is healing, but my smile isn't quite itself yet. No big deal, I guess. People who love me notice my dancing eyes when I smile, not my recovering gums.

My oldest daughter asked me why I had chicken pox on my face.
Not chicken pox, I told her. They are cancerous lesions in the process of being removed.
Well they just look like chicken pox, she told me. And lots of wrinkles.

My basement flooded five weeks ago, and having half a house--with no smaller fraction of people and chores--presents its challenges. I deal with it by ignoring the upheaval and laying on the small parts of the carpet that are showing. Best part of my day so far: when I laid on the floor on my belly and made a tower for my grunting, squealing, cooing infant.

My husband was away all weekend. I missed him. But the missing made me enjoy his presence today even more. Our bed was full of three little girls this morning, but they belong to him and me, and that was worth smiling about. So was his good morning kiss.

My soup needs some help. I can't just go impromptu like that all the time. Culinary liberties are for the super chefs. And in this case, my super chef was buried too deep to pull it out in the thirty minutes it took to make lunch. My toddler ate two helpings. This is unprecedented. I feel triumphant.

My mother was out of the country all week long. My whining couldn't reach her ears. In my imaginary conversations with her, she told me that I was expected to do hard things. I had to be grateful for the good, diligent in my duties, and certain of her approval. I wanted her to tell me I should go back to bed, but she never did. When I called her this morning, she answered her phone. She was anxious to talk to me; she had been praying for me. I had heard her encouragement, thousands of miles away, in my head and heart. My mother is an angel whose heart beats for me. I matter to her.

Tomorrow I'll start over on my chores. I did them last week, but they need my attention again. There will be new battles to fight, new growth to make. I'm pretty sure it will hurt. I'm too overwhelmed to think about that right now.

For today, I'll rest in the Sabbath Day. I am not forgotten. My prayers are heard. I am eternally loved.

Today, I live a glorious life.