turnips and dishtowel dementia

those were turnips in that picture below of chicken-pot-a-feu. one of my culinary accomplishments of last week. (tonite and for the next week we’ll probably just be having tired mama soup.)

it was the first time i made something with turnips. and guess what? all. my. kids. like. turnips!

that’s the kind of week i’ve had. where the revelation that my children like turnips is about the only exciting thing that has happened to me.

i am very involved in homeschooling these days. i say that as if i am not always involved in homeschooling my children. but for some time there has been this disconnected feeling and it was really bothering me. 

disconnected as in sending these four souls under my care off to different “corners” of this great big house. handing out “busy work”. without much feeling. or caring on my part.

do you do that too?

it happens to the best of us.

i am not a newbie to this homeschooling thing. i should know better. but when things get overwhelming i tend to want to run. far. far. away.

far away to a place that doesn’t care about endoplasmic reticulum or the napoleonic wars.

i’m a good little person mama. but it’s all the big stuff that really frightens me.

luckily the love for my children is so strong that i never run far. the running really only happens in my mind and in my heart. hence that disconnection.

luckily the love of my God is so strong that He pulls me back to where i need to be.

here. in the here and now. not just merely present as some disinterested spectator.

with a head full of fresh ideas and a dishtowel tucked under my arm. i wander to and fro like a mother duck. correcting english homework. cutting out paper snowflakes. listening attentively to loose tooth woes. making lists of science experiment supplies.

i feel good.

and then humbly and contritely i look everywhere for that dishtowel. i know it was here somewhere….

oh! there it is. it was there all along. right under my arm.

that darn dishtowel dementia.

what a work in progress am i. changing constantly.

so it is with the chemistry of salvation and vocations.

i never will “get” it.

salvation is not something we “get“.

it is something that for now, as a mother, i will continue to work out, with fear and trembling. sadness and joy. dishtowel under my arm. rejoicing in the simplicity of turnips!

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