It’s been weird around here. Good weird. Bad weird. Just weird.
I’ve had to just pull away from writing for a while. I began Nanowrimo with a bang. Knocking out words and spilling it all out on paper. Then I stopped. I wasn’t doing my usual fiction, but rather working on a story about suicide. My story, the girls’ story and his story. In all of my campaign to begin living and laughing again, I was having to revisit. I pushed and I wasn’t ready. I stopped. Then a lot has been going on that I didn’t want to talk about on my blog or FaceBook yet. Good stuff, but weird.
The holidays started and I began decorating. I worried the holidays would be tough for all of us. I realized that in my decorating and our family festivities that we weren’t missing him the way we should. There weren’t any traditions before this. He hated holidays. By celebrating, I already excluded him.
In addition to all of that, I have been spending a lot of time with the guy I have been dating. Good times, fun times. I have neglected (on purpose) to mention to you, my readers, that he is a single dad. A dad of 5 boys. Yes, I have 3 girls.
Go ahead and do the math, I’ll wait.
Go ahead and laugh, I’ll wait.
Make a comment about the Brady Bunch, I’ll wait and laugh along with you.
With 8 children running around I find myself with little time (or presence of mind) to write. I didn’t want to write about all of it yet. I wanted to hold onto my little secret, but it’s out now. My friends here giggle about it. Our church refers to us as a “crew” or a “herd.” My family has to brace for the little field trip that files into family functions. We use words like “blending” and “group rates.” It’s crazy. It’s loud. It’s perfect.
I was decorating for Christmas and it was decided that we would have Santa visit all of the children at my house. Of the “Santa believing” age; there are 6. Well one doesn’t really believe anymore, but he humors us. I hung 6 stockings in front of the fireplace and began laughing. Imagining the chaos that is going to be Christmas morning as half a dozen little hands fling wrapping paper around my house. I’m sure the oldest two will be nose deep in an Ipod or something, but 6 voices will be squealing at the joy of Santa. This will not be a calm, serene Norman Rockwell painting, but I can’t imagine it being any more perfect.
So there it is, my readers; my friends. A dramatic difference than where we were just a short time ago. God is a good God who provides our needs, sometimes more than what we expected. He has shown me that sometimes a “handful” is really more of a “heartful.” Sometimes life does indeed hand you lemons, but if you hand those lemons back to God….well, sometimes he throws in a ton of sweet stuff and shoves it all in a “blender.”