Expecting Miracles

I’ve been down in the dumps lately.  You wouldn’t know just to look at me.  Well, you might if you look at the picture I’ve included here.   I smile and crack jokes (Sometimes laugh at my own jokes like a deranged person, which has led my husband to seriously question my sanity on more than one occasion).

I am the person whom all members of my household come to with their problems, with their concerns, with their happy moments.  For my littles, it’s the small things that can be fixed with a hug.  With my older daughter, it’s the stress of homework, the friendships, the cool thing that happened in school, or the many new things she’s learned that day.  For my husband it’s his ups and downs of owning his own business and trying to keep his guys fed through the winter.

I try to listen fully, to be present with them, but often..far too often, I fall short.  I ask the same question repeatedly, because I can’t seem to remember whether I’ve asked it out loud or just in my head.  Each time I do this, my family looks at me like I’m in the very early stages of dementia, and that voice inside me that’s usually only a whisper screams “you suck so bad!”

I bear their burdens, and I bury my own, because their burdens are mine, too.  Not that I don’t have an outlet, I have my mama, sisters and friends who I can lean on.  Still, at the end of the day, once the littles are in bed, I am so exhausted, all I want to do is curl up in my own cozy bed.  Sometimes I do, but mostly, I don’t.  The time I have left with my teenager is precious, and this is the only sane moment I get to spend with my husband, even if it is just sitting beside him on the couch.

In the morning, I awake with a fogged down sick feeling in my belly, and my days are spent counting down the moments until bed time.  This is ok on occasion, but I’ve fallen into a pattern, and it’s robbed me of so much.  Now it’s time to snap back to life, to find the joy in the every day moments, in the seemingly mundane interactions, in my children, in my family.  This is my version of living with intention.  I have failed, but I will get back up and try again.

Every day, for the next thirty days, I will be looking for the miracles, with the intention and absolute certainty of finding them.  They will likely be small miracles, but I am open to the big ones, too.  The biggest miracle I will be on the look out for is a change in my perception, and in turn, in my feelings.

To help this experiment on it’s way, I’m adding a sub-experiment.  No complaining for the next thirty days.  A few days ago, I told me sister of this very intent, then got home from a long day of running kids around, and heaved a great big sigh.

My husband looked at me and said, “Will you please stop complaining already?”

Message received.  Great big ugly sighs count as a complaint.  This poor guy has put  up with my whining for long enough now.  Time to pull up those big girl panties everyone is always talking about.

Funny how the simple act of setting this intention has already lightened my spirits.  Want to join me?