I’ll admit there are times when I get tired of looking for beauty in all the first-world ugly I see. I just want to wallow for a minute or two . . . or a week.
Just so we’re clear, to wallow is a verb meaning to roll about in the mud for refreshment.
Yep. Rolling in the mud for refreshment. Get out me out some tunes and get a little pig wallow on.
I don’t know about you but I’m not sure rolling in the ugly is refreshing. I know it isn’t pretty for anyone to watch and it makes me downright sticky and stinky. And yet I do it.
I find myself failing again and getting stuck there, burying myself in the ugly. Counting the ways life is hard:
My book isn’t going the way I want it to.
My kids are home sick, again.
Sleep? Could you define that for me? I think I forgot what that is and my alarm has turned into a sadistic medieval torture device, I’m sure of it.
And for heaven’s sakes, how’s a girl supposed to write about war and betrayal when there’s 5 million kids in her house laughing over goofy videos and Kahoot quizzes. Seriously. How dare they have fun?!
Yep. I have a serious wallow on. I entirely forgot that I’m at my best when I’m looking for goodness. It’s a trick of the darkness to slowly dim the light. It isn’t until it’s really dark that I realize what it is I’m missing.
And wonder of wonders, I’ve found the good in the wallow. As long as I don’t stay too long.
That is really all we can do . . .
Learn something from our failures, our frustrations, then do something different.
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I have a handful of little tricks to help me be faithful in paying attention to the good things in life: a thankfulness journal, a poster on my back door where my whole family records sightings of goodness, this blog, etc.
But they all seem to fall short sometimes. Whether it’s just user error or not, I need something more. I need community, reminders, accountability.
So, my dear reader, I wonder, will you prod me from the wallow when I get stuck? Tell me what your own little ways to keep yourself from taking a dip in the mud.
I love it. I felt like that rhino this week too! Getting back up feels so good, even when it’s hard and the way sometimes not clear. Praying for quiet writing times for you this week. (or maybe next, it might be your spring break too…)
It does feel good to get back up. I’ll be praying for a clear path for you as well. We have Spring Break this coming week, so we’ll see how things go at the Tromp house. Thank you for the prayers. They make all the difference in the world.
Even empty nesters wallow! Stuck mid-stream in an article or book sets me backward. You reminded me about my gratitude journal. That comes out today! Thank you!
I’m pretty sure EVERYONE wallows . . . even if they don’t like to admit it. I just seem particularly adept at it 🙂 I just started making it a family event–everyone adding one thing to our journal every night. Last night I forgot and as I was tucking my daughter in, she said, “We forgot to do the gratitude journal tonight!” I collected hers and my sons and promptly went downstairs and wrote them out. I love having my daughter be my accountability and then being able to pass that on to other folks. Today I am grateful for the little Goldfinch on my feeder. He’s taken on his intense summer yellow, and his chest is a bit of sunshine on a cloudy day.