There's a lot going on in my head. It feels so crowded in there that I can't grab onto a single thought and follow it to a conclusion.
I love that, and I hate it. I love it because much of the stuff bouncing around in there is good stuff, but I hate it because it feels... unproductive. Unsettled. Elusive.
So here are some things I'm thinking about lately.
1) I am enjoying getting to go to work. It's amazing how much easier leaving the house is when you're not worried about strapping down two little people, remembering their stuffed babies and blankies and an extra set of clothes just in case, and a drink and a snack, and do I need the stroller??..... When it's time for work, I just get in the car and go. I'd forgotten what that's like.
2) Joel is struggling in my absence. I hate that. I hate it for him, for Sophie, for Greg. I know they'll make it through, but I wish it didn't have to be as hard as it is.
3) Rachel Held Evans said last week that she loves the Bible, and I'm not sure I do. I value it, and I respect it, and I know beyond any doubt that we need it... I'm just not sure I can call that "love." The Bible confuses me. I see people using it as a blunt instrument to subdue those with whom they disagree, see it used as a source for prooftexting this-or-that opinion or position, and it just makes me shrink away. And then there's the whole "inerrency" thing, and people rejecting science and anti-intellectualism in favor of a 9,000 year old planet and the death penalty for disrepsectful children, and I'm just so tired, I don't even know where to begin to get my bearings again.
4) I paid the bills this morning, and felt again like a less-inspiring Corrie Ten Boom, because it seems like that money should have run out but it didn't, at least, not today. Some times are like that; it seems like God must be playing fast and loose with our laws of mathematics in order for everything to work out.
5) Joel got a haircut last Friday. His hair was light blonde, silky smooth and curly. Now it is dark blonde, coarse and straight. I knew it would be different, but I didn't know it would change every trait of his hair. He even smells a little bit different--or maybe I am losing my grip. Maybe both. I know it's normal to catch your breath a little when they change so suddenly.
6) Sophie is her own self. She's funny and sweet, she loves dancing, she loves her brother and her family. She loves to make art (which is actually starting to look like real, discernable things) and tell stories. (Right now she's out on the deck, where she's been for an hour, talking the entire time.) And sometimes I have to remind myself, sternly, that she is not me. She is not a sad, lonely little girl growing up too fast in the midst of violence and fear and addiction. She is not insecure, she does not need to be afraid.
Sometimes I look at her being all normal and four-year-old-ish, and I think, This is how it should have been for me, for my mom. But she isn't me, and I'm not (totally) my mom, and maybe someday that will sink in. I want to believe that she's me, being redeemed, but then in the next thought, I don't want her to be saddled with that, with anything. I want her to be whole and her own.
7) I'm going grocery shopping later. (Hey, they can't all be winners.)