These September days I feel like I'm in survival mode.
Our family has been on one literal roller coaster these past two months and I'm feeling it deep, deep down in my old lady bones.
I go to bed at night reminding myself that in the morning, when I wake up nice and early, I can have coffee. And then I get out of bed in the mornings and tell myself that if I just make it through the day and the workout at the gym, I can drown my sorrows in an epson salt bath and Netflix when the kids go to sleep. I'm beginning to see the effects of our month in our children--little dry coughs, grumpy faces, forgetfulness, and loss of reasoning skills. Our schedules have been so incredibly disjointed since the return to school and we're still waiting to fall into a routine.
This week will be the first time since we've returned to school that my family will go to school for 5 days in a row.
And next Monday's a teacher workday.
Cheers and face palm.
We won't even begin to discuss the state of affairs in regards to housekeeping and clutter control. I could offer excuses of being swamped with back to school, busy weekends, Disney, and funeral, but that doesn't really make me feel any better, either.
Let's just say it's somewhere between awful and atomic bomb.
In the middle of all of this crazy, I'm searching to find the calm, quiet pockets of time. I'm fighting to remain still and small. I look for the little moments of beautiful sprinkled in my day--hints of fall temperatures, dew glistening on the grass, and the smell in the air that comes with the change of seasons. I light the candles and open the windows (when the humidity cooperates) and try to invite sanity back into our home.
I'm fully aware that my head and heart need order and quiet to recover from big stressors, and I'm learning that my highly-sensitive nature is negatively affected by recurrent loud and bossy sounds and emotions.
And I'm finding encouragement in His promises: