Tuesday, February 17, 2015

penpals writing letters

Hello there, friend,

I'm pressing rewind a bit here: Sunday was terribly frigid. For the entire day, the temperature only barely kissed one degree, then shot back down below zero. My husband and I, cozy in our pajamas, talked about skipping church because it was too cold, but realized the prospect of a day cooped up with the kids was more than we could bear. So we ventured out, and I was grateful for it.

Sitting in church, my mind began to wander. Sometimes I call it back to the present moment; sometimes I let it go. I was thinking about nothing in particular, just giving it a chance to meander. If for no other reason than that, I'm glad we went.

Those moments seem so rare these days. I feel like I used to let my mind wander all the time, my best thoughts often coming when I was alone in the car. I used to commute about twenty minutes to school and work, most of it on the expressway, so it was a good time to let my thoughts have their way.

Not that this made me brilliant, mind you. It was just easier then. I didn't have to give so much of myself to those around me. I didn't have little people calling my name all day long. I wasn't taking care of a home and a family, and trying to fit working at home into the mix everyday. I was able to choose how my time was spent. It was easy to take it all for granted.

So I've been trying to create more space for mind wandering: walking outside, staring out of the window, doodling. It's a kind of self care, I think, like turning the valve a bit to relieve the pressure.