Today was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.  It rolled off of a night of fitful sleep full of teeth grinding which was proceeded by an argument with my beloved that had been rearing it’s ugly head for days.  Before that was an evening that didn’t go as planned on the heels of a week of much of the same.  In fact, trying to find the genesis of this particularly crummy date on the calendar had me traces it’s start to some where in January.


Jac found me hiding at lunch time, meeting my crazy eyes with a smile.  “There’s always tomorrow!” he reminded me.

I know.  Oh, I know.

I wish I could pin point the issue (Issues?  Lord, help us . . .) but I think it’s a combination of things.  Too much to do and too little time to do it.  Too many nights spent scattered to the 4 winds.  Not enough reading.  Not enough praying.  Too much technology and not enough eye contact.  Plus, the weather has been lovely – most of the time – but we know in our heart of hearts that there is March to endure and so we can’t revel.  Or at least I can’t.

And really?  The devil is throwing punches and hitting us in the soft spots.  Because I’m tired, I stand there and take it, growing dizzy and sick at heart. I feel the strain of my back against the ropes and don’t even flinch when the jabs come.

I hate that guy.

This afternoon, after a failed nap, I took Gemma to Boyd’s. Jac had returned from the Chapel craving a Twix and caffeine so Gem and I went in search.  She chatted happily all the way there and stood in wonder before the shiny, heart-shaped boxes of chocolate.  She was eager to help and carrying the wallet and king-sized candy bar filled her with importance.

I soaked it in.

I forget nearly every moment the gravitas of my role as wife and mother.  I mean, I know, but I don’t KNOW know. I get bogged down in the have-tos and shoulds and ought-tos and pass right by the get-tos.  I let the Enemy in and hand over the joys then mope in the corner. For what?

We made our purchases and walked into the sunshine.

“Mama!” Gemma yelled.  “It is SO nice out here!  I like the sun even when it’s bright.  I missed it when I was inside.  Because,” here she clicked her tongue in this adorable way that she has while she wrinkled her nose and shook her head, “the sun is not inside.  No it is not.  It is out outside!” With that she ran to the car.

And I think that’s it.  The answer to everything.  The going, the doing, the forfeitted joy, it’s from dwelling too much on the inside.  Our eyes – all of us – have been focused in when they are meant for the LIght.  The Son is outside, in the other, far from selfishness and self-pity.

This evening was still hard.  But I watched the sun set and asked that the sun would shine again tomorrow.  That I wouldn’t squander the light.  That we would celebrate every joy and look out instead of in.  Because that Gemma kid, well, she’s onto something.