I live in a part of the country where going outside at the wrong time of the year can kill you. It’s pretty frigid in the winter, and the summer heat waves make me pray over the air conditioner on a daily basis. There are no mountains here, there are no real bodies of water. Remember, I’m from Seattle, and a real body of water is something that was not dug by man, and it’s called an ocean.
I’ve lived here since 2004, when I took a break from college after my sophomore year to do an internship at the International House of Prayer. Two days into that internship, I met the man who would become my husband. I’ve had two children, lived in three different rental places, survived pregnancy in the summer and pregnancy in the winter. I’ve grown my hair out and cut all my hair off, then grown it again. I’ve pierced my nose on two different occasions, I’ve gotten one tattoo.
I’ve learned how to paint and to draw better than I once could. I know now that if you don’t leave your pipes dripping you’ll wake up to a pool in your basement. I’m prepared for the heat, and I’m prepared for the cold.
I know that my husband likes beer, but not cheap beer, and that two video game systems are great to have, if you also have two tv’s. I’ve gained and lost jobs, I’ve been self employed. I’ve watched my kids beat each other up, and I’ve watched them laugh and hug each other.
I’ve made more healthy habits than bad ones.
It’s so easy to feel like you’re not accomplishing anything, until you actually step back, and list your accomplishments.