It feels absolutely crazy to be writing this from bed on a Sunday afternoon. Last weekend, when we started up the football games, I abruptly shouted ALRIGHT IT’S TIME FOR ME TO GO TO WORK at the precise time I used to leave the house each Sunday. After a good laugh, we also praised God out loud. Chris said he had a weird feeling in his stomach. What a long few years that was, working every weekend and filling my nights with papers and study. Hear me say this, it was totally doable. If you’re in the thick of back-to-school-as-an-adult, or working multiple jobs, or managing opposite schedules from your partner, you know what I mean. It’s not fun, and it’s hopefully not forever, but it’s doable. But phrases like making it work and let’s just get through this have a time limit. The goal is to get to the other side. Right now for us, the other side is beautiful. In the future, I hope to devote some of my free time to community and service, but… Covid-19. In the meantime, weekends are a nice mix of family time and introverted bliss.
I left work on Friday evening and picked up our Shabbat meal (burgers and fries). We slept in on Saturday and drove several towns up the peninsula for some fall foliage, Mexican food, and a chainsaw. We stopped off at a river full of glacial water, showing off its turquoise beauty even on a cloudy day. I started a new novel (The Great Alone; thanks for recommending it, guys… and it’s set near our new home, so check it out for a glimpse of our town!) I cried through family move night (Togo; all dog movies get me and can you tell we are about all things Alaska these days?). I spent some extra time in the bathroom on my face. I spent some extra time helping my kids take notes from Matthew 13 during church. I watered all of my plants. I took extra deep breaths when the patience wore thin. I drank iced vanilla lattes. I worshipped. Last weekend, I reaped the harvest of my months-long labor to propagate my ficus trees and make my own mint extract. Next weekend, I hope to hand wash my delicates and take a drive around town to look at the changing leaves.
I miss paved parking lots and being able to wear high heels. I miss Chick Fil A and the glimmer of city lights. I miss the sound of cicadas outside of our farmhouse. But the slowing down in a subarctic small town has been incredibly good for us. For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven. I will not look to the past or the future for satisfaction that may be found in the present.
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I’m a week and a half out from doing post-grad studies while also working full-time through 2/3 of. Never easy, but I could always remind myself to push through and trust that the end would arrive eventually.