I have nothing particular exciting or uplifting to say today, but it is Monday and I like to keep a little consistency in the midst of the chaos ;)
It's just been one of those week, you know? Nothing terrible has happened. I can handle a major crisis. In the past couple years, we've face unemployment, my dad's cancer, major car accidents. I weathered those with faith and hope.
No, it's never the major things that knock me down. It's the small things.
Over the weekend, my toddler managed to scratch my cornea and break my Kindle within 36 hours. Not anything that can't be fixed with a whole bunch of eyedrops and shelling out some hard-earned cashed on a new e-reader. But enough to make me want to sit down in the middle of the living room and cry. Like a baby. And whine on Twitter, Facebook and my blog. Because seriously, it's the end of the world or something.
I think maybe that's one of the reasons I like fiction. The conflicts are so BIG. It's life or death, do or die. It's aching love and world-changing choices. It's not driven by the petty problems of an almost-thrity-year-old mother of a two-year-old.
I've done things like build houses in the slums of Tijuana, Mexico and visited incarcerated teenagers in their prisons. I've fed the homeless and comforted people devastated by tragedy. I know how blessed I am.
Yet in my pride and selfishness, I let the little things steal my joy. How ridiculous!
And how essentially human. It is so hard to see past our own little worlds and grievances.
I don't really know what my point is. I think these pregnancy hormones are getting to me. But I'm trying to get my perspective back, trying to remember how much I have and how little it has cost me. Save the drama for my writing.
How about you? Do the little things break you faster?
Big things I can take in stride because I have to focus my energy to solve them. It's the little things that aren't supposed to happen that get me down and stop me in my tracks.
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