Only two Saturdays left until cricket season is finished for Daniel, and this cricket widower will be reunited with family-day-Saturdays once more.
Last night I made the decision not to dread today. I told myself to enjoy it.
To do something I wanted to do, so that it didn't feel like just another day at home with the kiddos. To do something with them so it didn't feel like just another day at home with their mama.
Sometimes all it takes is a choice.
And a little conversation with that emotional little soul of mine.
Snap out of it, soul. Enough making me miserable with the wallowing cricket widow talk.
Get over it.
So I did.
I ignored dishes and the bed is still unmade.
I let Saturday feel like Saturday.
And, surprisingly, Saturday did.
We planted poppy seeds, and little yellow poached egg flower seeds.
We raked and weeded and played with the hose, and I moved an entire garden bed by myself, with a wheel barrow with a flat tire. I was that determined to do what I wanted to do.
My herb garden has been tended and is no longer overrun with weeds, and all the flower heads were lovingly and carefully cut off the mint and the basil by my little gardening helpers.
And in the pruning and the tending, always the thought in me, He is the vine, I am the branches.*
Afterwards, cake and crochet.
* "I am the Vine, you are the branches. When you’re joined with me and I with you, the relation intimate and organic, the harvest is sure to be abundant. Separated, you can’t produce a thing. Anyone who separates from me is deadwood, gathered up and thrown on the bonfire. But if you make yourselves at home with me and my words are at home in you, you can be sure that whatever you ask will be listened to and acted upon."
John 15 (the Message Paraphrase)