My Mondays. I have the perfect set-up to do laundry while I invoice for Brad's trucking company.
For years, I used this striped basket to cart my lesson materials to seminary. It used to be full of my computer (with a daily Powerpoint lesson), scriptures, treats, and whatever gadgets/prizes/toys I needed to hold the attention of a roomful of teenagers at 5:30 am.
Now it's full of crayons, wooden puzzles, a bubble machine, snowman blanket, and a two-minute lesson that will probably fail to hold the attention of a roomful of toddlers at 11:30 am.
I miss my seminary years. I miss my seminary kids. I miss hearing their thoughts and laughing at their jokes and seeing their eyes light up when they felt the spirit.
But now I get to hold my students on my lap. I wipe noses and dry tears and sometimes--on good days--I see their eyes light up when they see me across the chapel. That's pretty great, too.
Friday night, Jill-style.
Brad's cousin Emily told me Netflix had made a mini-series of one of my favorite books, so I binge-watched tonight. If you haven't watched/read Fredrik Backman's Anxious People, go watch/read it. You won't be sorry. Fredrik Backman's stories always make me believe all people are good and I need to be nicer.
Yeah, I know. It's boring. It's just our simple kitchen in our rented town home. But it's clean, and it smells like dinner. It reminds me of growing up in my mom's house, when my tummy was full, bedtime was approaching, and all was cleaned up and quiet. This, to me, is success.
Years ago, I did a photo-per-day blog, and I loved how it forced me to look at my life as I lived it. I want to go back to that, so here we are. This is me on the night I decided to reclaim my journaling.