In a kind of stupor I follow my running babe all over the house and farm.
Mechanically I dish out meal after meal, and the only time I feel something sensational is when I crawl into my bed.
Mercifully, the canning is done and even my china cabinet has been cleaned inside and out, before and behind.
I apathetically put all the pictures I want to develop on a flash drive yesterday.
Otherwise I have sat, with my tongue hanging dejectedly from my mouth.
I have been sick. I am not a sweet saint when I am sick.
I am tired of being tired.
If there’s anything I hate, it’s apathy.
It’s easier to run after a baby if you have energy.
It’s much easier to be patient and sweet if things like slicing tomatoes for supper and sweeping the floor don’t look monstrous.
Maybe it’s not only that I’m sick. Maybe it’s also a small crash after being too energetic the last while.
Taking the baby with me shopping last week may have been the straw that broke the camel’s back.
My son tried repeatedly to stand up in the cart. He grabbed cheese bars and munched them through the plastic. He hurled a bottle of cake sprinkles onto the floor where it bounced loudly across the tile and landed under the shelves.
I met a friend who was shopping with her three preschoolers. She looked cool and collected while I felt hot and harried, having just risen from my “here I raise my Ebenezer” position, trying to regain the sprinkles.
My husband waits patiently for the irritability and whining to cease and for the sun to break forth once more from the clouds. “Give yourself Grace,” he tells me.
I’d rather have energy than grace.
So you see why it’s been such a long time since I’ve written anything and why even now the writing slouches and wobbles a bit.
I hear screaming and I sigh because my son is likely biting his friend yet again.
I was young and now I am old, yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread.
I am old and creaky and languid and we may all be begging bread tonight if I do not get supper in the oven.
I hold it to myself that the righteous are never forsaken and I look at the rain and I hear the screaming and I wonder if I am not righteous???
Enough morbidity!! I will lay down my pen and you can back to your cheerful selves.
As for me, I will sink happily into my bed yet again in a few hours and hope for a better day ahead!