We have a lot of extra recycling at our house right now. I don’t know about you, but the bin in our garage is overflowing. We’ve been ordering so many essentials online due to staying put at home, which means boxes. So. Many. Boxes.
I have had a hard time finding the words for this post trying to both spur others on and encourage in the midst of COVID-19 sweeping the globe and my country. This post has sat on my laptop for the past two weeks with two sentences painfully written. They weren't right so I wrote again and erased and then wrote again and then erased before writing this today (with plenty of erasing).
As Thanksgiving approaches, my recent struggle with gratitude and contentment weigh heavily on my mind. I’ve been finding myself restless and busy, unsettled and striving. More than I’d like to admit, I’ve been astray in a losing battle of comparison over my home, appearance, and children. I’m neck-deep in it. Major transitions and changes - though I’ve become adept at the outward processes - have a way of thrusting me into self-made trenches.
Disconnecting from the constant clamor of ever streaming noise is an astoundingly loud endeavor at the beginning. It's been almost 24 hours since arriving at a little cabin in the woods, just the four of us. No other voices to be heard, considered, checked or responded to. It's been beautiful.
