I've thought many times about how I could begin writing again in a way that would seem at least mildly contiguous with my previous posts. I've come to the conclusion that the longer I think about it, the longer it becomes before I write again. This just makes my first problem greater. Here I am with no hope of making a seamless transition. I've decided just to write whether anybody reads or not.
Lately I've been in that sort of post partum haze where the days seem long and the nights seem (sometimes self-imposedly) short. This, I'm sure has led me to mental meanderings about life, marriage, the future, body image, home and family. All my guilt about a dirty house and time mismanagement and laziness and vanity whirling around in a sea of motherhood and womanhood and servanthood and what does it all mean and will my life always seem this small and yet this overwhelming forever? Yes and no, I bet.
Anyway in the middle of all of this, this evening after bathing and feeding and putting tinies daughter to bed, I was able to walk out of my back door in the cool of the evening and pick a couple of cherry tomatoes off the vine. I popped them straight into my mouth and thought, "This is good." and "You've got it better than so many."
I was blessed by God's goodness in the quiet and the tomatoes.
