This time of year, I work 7 days a week. This last week, due to overwhelming amounts of extra projects (I don’t just answer phones) I clocked in at 6am, and out at 5p. They were long days, but there was total grace for it. I didn’t feel burnt out, and other than fighting a head cold I procured from my children, I actually felt great. I’m just really thankful for my work. It provides for my family, and we don’t have extra, but God has provided exactly what we NEED. Keeping my heart grateful makes it easy to clock in even though it feels like I just clocked out.
I woke up this morning around 5, even though I didn’t have to be up until 5:30, because some tiny child needed a paci or milk or thought that two hours before sun rise was when the day should start. Not! Not! Go to sleep, tiny people!
I showered, turned the heat on, picked mascara out of my tear ducts. I wandered into the kitchen, fired up Eleanor (our espresso machine, that has inexplicably lived a very long life for such an inexpensive machine), put a frying pan on the stove for an egg. I laid out my vitamins, I drank some water, and debated if the inside of our pipes are rusting. I ended up dropping a tiny vitamin D capsule down my shirt, and never found it.
I looked out onto our rain slicked street and prayed for no ice. I noticed that my in-laws got us some great new pictures, and framed them. Other Father is a picture framer, professionally, and has been for many years. I get freebie framing on my artwork, if I time it right. He’s very generous.
I got cereal and a banana ready for the kids, filled their milk cups and left a note for Aaron saying they were in the fridge. I wondered if he knew he left the Xbox on all night; I turned it off. I ate my breakfast while checking twitter, brushed my teeth, put on my boots.
I collected the things I’d need since I’m going straight from work to a hair appointment; some lunch, a coke, just in case I was tired.
I sighed a little that I wouldn’t be there when the kids woke up, to kiss their cheeks when they ran to me, like they always do when they realize I’m home in the morning. I miss hearing their demands for milk, Veggietales, cereal. I remembered how blessed I am to be working.
Heading out the door, I checked the lock, making sure my family would stay safe while they slept. I grabbed coffee, keys, and a bag full of sketch book, wallet and gloves.
I left. I drove through the rain to work, and thought how different Saturday mornings look in December.
Still beautiful, just in a different way.