So I've been neglecting this blog for the entire first four months of this year. Any hopes I'd had of welcoming regular readers have faded. Gratefully, I'm okay with that.
In the last 3 months my husband/I: Found a great day-care. Bought a house. Stripped the wallpaper in 80% of the house. Painted. Packed. Moved. Started a part-time job. Trained for a half-marathon. Completed a half-marathon. Celebrated our daughter's third birthday.
I'm certain I could include other events, but those are the most apparent. Now, I'm faced with multiple wedding events on nearly every weekend until June, finals, and stripping/re-finishing dressers for the master bedroom. None of this is to say that I'm complaining, I suppose I'm just needing to publicly forgive myself for not writing as much as I'd like.
This week I've been focused on weeds and dead leaves, both physically and symbolically. To put it more quickly and bluntly than I'd like--- too many times we think we've dealt with a certain weed or we've raked out some dead leaves and we expect that they will never return. When we rake each fall or pluck up a weed, we never walk away assuming the work is completely done. So why would we ever assume the same could occur in us emotionally, spiritually or relationally?