For those who know me well…it’s a little eerie.
Since the beginning of the year here at Casa de la Breitenstein, I’ve been heading up my own ambitious, highly uncharacteristic Project Ducks in a Row.
For those who know me well…it’s a little eerie.
Since the beginning of the year here at Casa de la Breitenstein, I’ve been heading up my own ambitious, highly uncharacteristic Project Ducks in a Row.
May all your kids come home, and may they get along with each other. Or at least fake it.
May you have a white Christmas to the point that you feel Christmas-y and can say no to an activity you didn’t really want to go to, but don’t lose electricity and heat. May everyone wipe their boots.
This past Sunday was a beautiful moment for our little family: My husband baptized my two youngest children.
May all your kids come home, and may they get along with each other. Or at least fake it.
May you have a white Christmas to the point that you feel Christmas-y and can say no to an activity you didn’t really want to go to, but don’t lose electricity and heat. May everyone wipe their boots.
This morning I schlepped over to the home a friend of mine. A stay-at-home mom of three preschoolers, she feels limited in what she can offer the community. But my hat goes off to her: She invited an adult day program to her home to sing carols, read the Christmas story from the Bible, and a enjoy pretty great spread of snacks.
Somewhere in the middle of the singing, I remembered that besides just wanting to love on the participants or go through the happy holiday motions, I wanted the carols to sink into my heart, too.
But I also know that somewhere, a part of me resists this.
Blogging about your personal life can be a little weird.
See, I’m hovering around the six-month mark of our move back to the U.S. from Africa. And when I’m truthful, this last month in particular has been a low point I haven’t hit in a long time. I wonder sometimes about what’s appropriate to share. I believe it’s Brene Brown who says she thinks it’s okay to be vulnerable on a larger scale if first she’s been vulnerable with those close to her. Yet there was also a point last year where I was like, All of this cyber-honesty is making my blog a real downer. All I need is a few posts about puppy mills and cancer and we’ll be all set!
I view the items in my home differently now. Everything is slid into a category in my mind: Pack it. Sell it. Give it. Just as we did five and a half years ago in Little Rock, we’re packing up our lives here in Africa. But of course the person who packed up then isn’t the same person who’s packing now.
And thankfully, those intangibles are things I can keep.
They don’t take up precious luggage space; I won’t need to sell them for pennies on the dollar with which I bought them. They’re Africa’s gifts to me.
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