Sunday, February 23, 2014

Crunchy Snow and Barking Dogs


I am only halfway through my day and, already, I have complained of the snow, my homework, the dishes, the dogs, my back. I have flung a little negativity in the direction of my family, my friends, strangers, myself. And this, my friends, is a GOOD day.

Do NOT misunderstand. I have a smile on my face and a song in my heart. I am glad today to be on this earth, sharing pleasant greetings with those I pass. If it be possible for a girl to have an actual twinkle in her eye, I would indeed have that twinkle. If I fling such negative vibes on a GOOD day, I wonder, oh the sludge I sling on a bad.

In an attempt, then, to look at the glass half full, or perhaps as all the way full, I rephrase my complaints into a list of thanks.

I complained of the snow because it is time for it to pack its bags and fly north. I have seen enough and am missing my good friend the sunshine. It has also reached that stage that snow does when it hits a certain age. It is crunchy and dirty and piled in inconvenient spots. If I am to rethink, however, I would confess that the snow is my favorite part of winter. In Michigan, it snows in November and does not melt until April or May. I have always appreciated the beauty of the season. Growing up just a state south, I became accustomed to crusty brown grass as winter’s wear. At least now, if it is cold, it is just damn gorgeous.

I complained about my homework because it is boring and dry and all about computers. I am learning of the software used for research, data analysis, geeky stuff like that. If you know me, you know that I am about the heart, the person, the workings of the soul. I am not about merging data files or eliminating variables. If I am to confess, however, I would tell you that I have a dear love of learning of any sort. I am thankful for the opportunity to further my education and have come further than anyone probably expected I would or should. I am thankful to be able to develop the gifts I have been given in order that I might use them for the good of others. And, honestly, if I did not have homework that was assigned I would create some for myself.

I complained about the dishes piled in the sink and the dogs barking at the window. I have three newly adult children still living at home. They love to cook, but they do not seem to equally love to clean. The dogs are constantly under foot and always barking at neighbors walking or biking past the large bay window at the front of the house. I feel as if I have no space to hide, no quiet in which to bathe. This is, though, the world that I created. I love a home that is full of life, that is full of love and laughter and commotion of a happy sort. I love a home that is used and appreciated, one in which my children WANT to be. The dogs make me smile. I can be stressed or angry or generally discontent and, they, in their infinite dog wisdom seek to comfort at my side. I am fortunate at my age to still have a home that is brimming with noise and activity. I am not the empty nester that most of my friends are as I made the choice to have children when everyone else had stopped. My life is busy, yes. It is busy, but it is rich.

As for my back, I slept many hours and then passed the morning reading in bed. I was feeling achy from lack of movement and too much time spent prone, but again, I slept many hours and passed the morning reading in bed. That is the very definition of a life well lived.

I am penning this now at some point later in my day. I am glad. I am glad for the snow and the homework and the dishes and the dogs and my back. I am glad for the opportunity to live the life I have been given, the life that I chose. I am glad. I am glad for crunchy snow and barking dogs and the gift of another day.

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