The weight of the world is heavy. I choose which weights and I choose how heavy they are. Right now my weights are heavy.
My relationship with Husband is most heavy. Heavy in a wonderful way. Heavy as in it’s just that important to me to be, well, heavy. I can’t say as I know any other words to share about it other than it is. My level of exhaustion from life, the other heavies I am about to share, has shortened my whatever in attending to his needs and our relationship the last few weeks. The brief time by the fire last night talking after he arrived home from the hospital was a recharger.
We are still (and forever) establishing rhythms of life in our family. This is perhaps one of the heaviest weights I choose to wear. For my sanity, I need our family to be robotic in some of our actions. Groom, dress for the day, make your bed, lessons. That’s our morning rhythm. A rhythm is a process rather than a schedule. While I need independent actions, I don’t want a schedule. My biggest reason is I don’t wake sleeping babies. If I have a quiet (or quieter) house for an extra ten or thirty minutes, why would I end that for some time pulled from the sky? Where do I need to be? Most days nowhere other than the kitchen. So our rhythm is that important.
The health of my family is obviously another weighty hold on my heart. I work hard, I want to work hard, to provide my family with foods that strengthen and heal rather than weaken. When someone is not well, I have constant thoughts of healing on my mind… Arnica? Silver? Echinacea? Fish? Greens? C? Astragalus? Tylenol? Doctor? I tend to do a bit of worrying at such times.
The health and well-being of my extended family and friends is a weight I certainly choose to take on. These people do not live in my home and I am therefore not directly responsible for their well-being and safety. But more importantly, they live in my heart and I am therefore compelled by love, not required by relation or location, to care for their needs as well. Whether it is a visit, a meal, a text, or a call, sharing a piece of my interest in, of, for a person is important to me.
There used to be a spot in the sanctuary where we attended that I could sit and think. Sometimes in silence and sometimes while children climbed over the pews. Now I have a warm and toasty spot on the short sofa by a window and the fireplace. It’s best before dawn and after sunset. It’s my Thinking Chair.
The list of weights can go on and on and on. But they won’t. Because the time for SOBs will soon be here and for a short time I can put the weights aside. It’s Shrimp, Oysters, and Beer (and well drinks!) night at a local restaurant just a bit east of here. I’ll sit across the corner booth table from Husband and we’ll brief one another on our day and have some discussion of miscellany we’ve been forgetting. And we’ll unwind. I am so glad nothing will overcome SOBs tonight. So grateful.