I almost didn't write it...
Yesterday as I poured out my angst, my sadness, my frustration, my wishing for a different life into the blog post, I almost deleted it. I almost changed it into another list of things I was grateful for and ways in which Sweet Mother Mary sets the example of true servanthood and helps me take my mind off of myself when I'm having One of Those Days.
I almost sugar-coated my lonely anger.
I almost denied my bone-weariness.
I almost substituted holiness for honesty.
I thought about some of the people who (I think might) read the blog and thought, "What will she think when she reads that I'm not always thrilled to be homescholing?" "What will he think when he discovers that I'm not always glad to be married?" "Won't her feelings be hurt when she finds out that parenting isn't always a joy-a-minute?"
I almost didn't tell the truth. (It wasn't the whole truth, but who ever tells the whole truth in their blogs???)
The truth is that I'm not always excited about doing laundry, cooking, dusting, sweeping, driving my kids from place to place, and figuring out which books my son needs to read before he graduates from our homeschool.
I'm not always thrilled to be cleaning up messes I didn't make, turning off lights I didn't turn on, and tossing things into the garbage or recycling bins - things that get left on the counter even though everyone who lives in this house knows where those things belong when they are empty.
I'm not always excited about looking at stuff on the internet that somebody wants me to buy or hearing stories about television shows I don't follow.
Changing sheets and towels, taking out the garbage, taking the car for its oil changes, cleaning mirrors, scrubbing tubs, vacuuming, walking the dog... the list of things that don't excite me is long.
I almost didn't write the blog yesterday. But those days of frustration and self-pity, the demands and annoyances of daily living, the longing to escape for a few days, those are as much a part of my life as the gratitude, the prayer, the faith, the friendship, the poetry, the painting, the journaling, the good books, the long phone calls, the engaging email exchanges, and the mugs of tea and coffee in the morning.
In fact, days like yesterday, the sad days, the seemingly meaningless, most mundane of days, make the mugs of coffee, the early morning quietness in front of the Christmas tree, the chime of my blackberry when a text message arrives, the perfect turn of phrase in a book of the prayer, the smiling face of a friend entering the coffee shop, and the long, wrist-wringing therapy sessions with my journal so much sweeter.
I almost didn't write it, but I had to. It was the only thing I could say about yesterday. And, just as I'd hoped and prayed, I feel better today. I think I'm gonna go make myself a cup of tea and sit in front of the tree for a while - before the kids wake up and ask if they can show me something on the computer.