Three Positives

For a Saturday, I am feeling so empty.  Feeling empty makes it hard to write.  This week has left me thinking that I am going through motions each day without depth.  My work is just a job,  it neither excites me nor leaves me fulfilled in any particular way.  I just go there, do some work, and go home.  Parenting is hard right now.  Really hard.  It takes a great deal of effort not to be offended.  But today I had to go to my room and cry, for the look my child that I birthed with love gave me hurt all the way down to my soul.  Physically I feel lousy every single day.  I haven't breathed through my nose in eight months.  Have you ever tried to eat without being able to breathe through your nose?  Have you ever tried eating plus talking without being able to breathe through your nose? It's really hard to enjoy a social meal so I might as well eat alone.  Regardless that I take a Zyrtec every night like the doctor suggested, I don't sleep well, and every day people ask me if I'm sick.  It's just the new older version of me, friends, unless unbeknownst to me, I have respiratory cancer.

It's a tough day, maybe a tough season.  Life always has a rhythm. I think I might be in the low section.  Chocolate does me no good because I can't really taste it.  It's in these moments you ponder.  You look for the positives to give some semblance of balance and order.

One positive, I went to the dentist this week and made it out alive. You really need to be able to breathe through your nose at the dentist.  There were two separate moments that I thought I would literally drown in my own saliva and Listerine. 

Second positive, texts I received this week have literally saved some of my days by bringing comic relief and love.

Third positive, and quite possibly the best one of all, when I am upset, my husband lets me crawl into his lap, lay my head on his chest, and cry.  He tells me these days of parenting and working and striving are long and twisted.  He tells me there is no straight course.  But there is an end.  I lay there, letting his words ease over the aches and pains of being a working, sinus laden, mother.  And I believe he is so wise.

And I believe I can carry on.  For tomorrow is another day.  It is full of new, mysterious things that might amount to simply: church, cleaning, groceries, and a Redbox. And lots of tissues.

It is repetitive and tough, couched in drudgery, this season.  But I will continue to look for the positives, because there will be many.  God will post little signs along the way to announce His presence.  To establish His peace in my heart.  He is here. In this season.  Maybe one day soon He will allow me to taste chocolate.