These are the piles around me today: bills to be paid sit to the left; the order of service for the 22nd, at which I’m not preaching but being the liaison for a guest speaker and for which I must find someone to play the piano for us; to the left and back, a manuscript I need to edit and format, one that I had hoped would be published before the end of June; and to the further back and left, all the other work that waits. In another room: the laundry, the sticky kitchen floor (I should say the perinially sticky floor of summer, thanks to kids and lemonade, kids and popsicles, kids and ice cream, and kids and juicy fruit (oh, wait, that was me and the peach that exploded when I peeled off the sticker–and WHO in their right mind decided that stickers were meant to go on each and every peach????). And, in the garage, the bookshelves I started painting and then left because it was like 172 degrees in there. (They beckon now, as the weather turned lovely and breezy–or ‘blowie’ as we say in our house–and the completion of this project will allow me to retrieve boxes and boxes of books stored during our lengthy, lenthy home-improvement project.)
I read Lizard Eaters’ post first thing this a.m. and I was reminded there are no bad days. A member of our family has just received good health news for which I am grateful. But these last 9 days have been full, too, of concern for him, but also news of a death that should not have happened, a death that has broken a piece of me, opened my eyes to a reality I do not live. And it is not my story to tell, not here, so I won’t, but it travels with me.
There are no bad days, I suppose, when we are alive and breathing and able to sit amongst the piles life hands us and still be hopeful, still work toward whittling those piles down, still have a kid with smelly morning breath perch on our knees and ask “what ARE we doing today, anyway?”
What are we doing today? I’m not sure yet, but I am grateful to have the opportunity to simply ask the question. I hope you are able to, as well.