As Thanksgiving approaches, my recent struggle with gratitude and contentment weigh heavily on my mind. I’ve been finding myself restless and busy, unsettled and striving. More than I’d like to admit, I’ve been astray in a losing battle of comparison over my home, appearance, and children. I’m neck-deep in it. Major transitions and changes - though I’ve become adept at the outward processes - have a way of thrusting me into self-made trenches.
November is here. The Halloween candy is on clearance and Christmas decor is stocked on the shelves. The fall that just started is already fading into winter here in the northeast. Let’s be real—some of us are already playing Christmas music, while some of us feel completely overwhelmed by the to-do list the upcoming holidays create amidst our already full lives.
Fall is such a sweet season to me. I know I'm not alone in this because Pinterest tells me so. Living in the northeastern United States, it's a season of crisp cool air, crunchy leaves underfoot and vibrant colors above.
Disconnecting from the constant clamor of ever streaming noise is an astoundingly loud endeavor at the beginning. It's been almost 24 hours since arriving at a little cabin in the woods, just the four of us. No other voices to be heard, considered, checked or responded to. It's been beautiful.
Living in western Pennsylvania, the idea of elusive summer calls to me about 9 months out of the year. Our winters are long and cold and dark. I think about spring and the fleeting summer and short fall during those cold months.
Dear Mama, I know you are tired of those older moms and grandmas, when they see you worn out and weary after endless days with those babies and toddlers, telling you to enjoy them because it goes so fast. I know you probably get pretty irritated and annoyed and are already beyond your limit when they share this truth with you.