Will for 5 mornings a week and Addie for 2.
The week before last, I cried. All week.
I would start talking to someone and burst into tears.
(Crying shoutouts to Scott, Erica, Jenny, Mom, Paula W., Paula D., Cheri, Beth,
Gretchen, Lindsey, Teacher Melissa and Teacher Virda. Thanks for bearing with me!)
The entire week long, at some point during every day, I cried.
My eyes were swollen into permanent half moons.
As you can see, I deal brilliantly with change.
I just curl up into fetal position and cry.
I think Scott was a little thankful that he was gone to the Awaken conference.
Because each day he would call and tell me the amazing people he was meeting,
the things he was learning and then I would say,
"That is fantastic. I cried today." Or something to that effect.
Scott knows me and crying. It is not one solitary thing that brings on the tears.
It is the layering of life.
The circumstances, the seasons, each laid on top of the next,
that cause the flood gates to open.
He tries to help me narrow it down.
Because if he could help me stop the crying, he would like to.
"Why exactly are you crying?" he asks.
To which I answer,"Because of everything."
Because my boys are getting big.
Because there are sections of their day that I won't be a part of.
Because the I have to finish the taxes.
Because I paid bills yesterday.
Because I have way too many hormones.
Because life is so crazy busy we don't have time to really talk.
Because I ran out of good coffee and sometimes a person just needs
some good coffee but I don't want to drag the 3 children to the store
and get the good coffee.
Because you are at a conference and I am here at home crying.
Because I heard a song about a baby in a mom's belly.
Because I heard a song about God's amazing grace.
Because I haven't planned out my sunday school lesson yet.
Because my bed is never made. Because my parents live far away.
Because life is ever changing and when something shifts I need
to take a moment and acknowledge that I miss the life I had before last week,
pull out the tissue and have a good long cry.
And this is why Scott is thankful that he was in LA.
But the funny thing is I feel a lot better after I cry.
As long as it's not a sobbing cry to which my face responds with
a puffy upper lip and a spectacular array of red forehead splotches.
My sister, Erica, told me that after each of her babies was born,
she had a good cry because she was mourning the loss of the family she had before.
The familiarity. The routines. The goodness of that season.
Then she was ready to embrace the next season.
And I like that. So the week before last I mourned.
And this past week. Not a tear. Maybe my tear ducts were on strike.
But I feel better. I really do.
Jesus is faithful. Scott is home. And I have the good coffee again.