The sun is shining and the leaves on the trees out front are waving. It promises to be a lovely day.
This week, I’m catching my breath, though there’s a lot in my mind and on my schedule. I’m going to try to battle the pressure to run-run-run and focus, instead, on making the best with the quiet and putting into practice a sort of discipline for myself. We’ll see how that goes. It will be an ongoing practice.
For out-of-town family, visiting this week (and next!)
For fat baby cheeks and
Over the weekend, I zipped through Damosel, by Stephanie Spinner, which I picked up after reading an interview with the author. What a delightful book! I’m going to recommend it to my nieces and I’m also going to have to explore the author some more.
Still working on Saving Dinner Basics: How to Cook Even If You Don’t Know How, by Leanne Ely, and new late last week on my currently reading pile is a gem: The Philosophy of Jesus, by Peter Kreeft.
Folded hands, bowed head:
I’m praying for three special intentions, all of them close to my heart. One of them inspired me to start a novena last week, and the other two just break my heart. Sometimes I just feel called to pray, and I don’t know, at times, if my prayer does anything more than make me feel comforted. (I mean I don’t have proof, I suppose, not that I doubt the effectiveness of prayer.) That’s OK, though. We don’t pray for evidence.
In my ears:
Around the house:
It’s quiet in a strange way. Usually by this time Babs is awake and we’re doing our Early Riser thing (which means we don’t talk for at least an hour) in separate rooms. Today, though, she’s waking up at Nanny’s house with visiting cousins, and I’m here in the silence. I miss her.
A favorite thing:
Evenings with my husband.
For the rest of the week:
There’s the looming possibility that it will be a week of CRAZINESS. I dread the possibility that I will slack in very important areas, and I know I need to impose some sort of order on my frenzied mind before the week even starts. To that end, I’ll be praying Hail Marys to punctuate my day, and I trust that the Mary will guide me.
Food for thought:
I want to be here, waiting where my arms can be a place of peace and rest, and a shelter from injury, doubt, and fear that my children can always, always return to.
Worth a thousand words:
See that mouth full of chocolate cake? See that elbow of the obliging uncle? Hear the giggles that accompanied this exchange?