Ps. 119:105
MONDAY
Henry's been sick since yesterday. He's had a fever, and absolutely no appetite. It could be those teeth that are still coming in. No way to know for sure. But we had today off and this afternoon I got him to eat some of a fruit and yogurt smoothie. And of course it was an absolutely perfect day for patio playtime.
This evening I checked one thing off my spring to-do list and made skinny jeans out of a pair of college-era flares. I've worn them ragged for ten years now, but I still love them. I found this tutorial on making skinnies out of flares, and decided to give it a try. It worked perfectly! I had to finagle the hems a bit because the pants were quite long and the back had been torn off by years of heel-treading. So I chopped off the hem and resewed the part that was left a little higher. They're not perfect, but it's a success I'm pleased with.
FRIDAY
In addition to books and movies, our local library has a play area for little kids so a couple days this week, including this afternoon, when Henry was crabby and it was raining, we drove over there just for a change of scenery. He cooked play pizza in the play oven while I browsed my goodreads account for recommendations and scanned the library shelves for anything appealing. Today I came home with four books. More afternoons at the library are definitely in our future.
I was an English major for four years of college (and will always remain one in my heart of hearts), but reading comes in fits and starts for me now. Being a wife and mother takes a lot more time than you'd think, and I've found myself drifting away from pleasure reading, partially out of necessity and partially out of lack of interest. When I have time to read, I'd rather chew on some parenting advice or wrestle with thoughts on faith. I'm not drawn as much to novels, or even nonfiction. But this week I finished two books, a second read of a favorite novel and a nonfiction piece, and I've rediscovered my insatiable appetite for reading. Hence, the stack of library books in my arm this afternoon.
I've struggled in the past few years with whether or not pleasure reading has a place in the Christian's life. Should valuable time, emotional energies, and mental space be dedicated to a work of secular fiction? Is that good stewardship of my life? Are memoirs and nonfiction eternally profitable? I've decided, at least for now, that as long as the content does not pull me toward sin or overtly attack my faith, a secular novel or memoir can be a healthy use of time. While rereading Water for Elephants seemed like a bit of a waste intellectually, it provided a different path for my mind, which tends to dig deep ruts in questions like "what's for dinner?" and "when is Henry's next nap?" and "did I pay that bill yet?" A novel is a breeze of cool fresh air, thoughts from someone else's mind that refresh my own. Only recently have I gained the strength to put a book down. "You don't have to drink the whole bottle to know it's vinegar," says Pete when he thinks I'm reading garbage. And he's right. Not all books are worth seeing through to the end. I might not reach the last page of all four of these books I brought home today. But if I find any of them to be gems, maybe I'll write up a review for you.
SATURDAY
A little nod to where I was seven years ago today, saying goodbye to a semester in Oxford, England.
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| Roommates from the basement quad, aka The Octopus's Garden. |
Yes, I've moved on to a delightfully rich life. I'm not stuck in the past. But those three months abroad seeped into every cell in my body and I'll never stop being grateful for them.
Grateful this week for:
smoothies
patio afternoons
every time Henry took a bite of food
the library
mornings
evenings
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