Truths

Someone told me last week that after reading my blog regularly she had concluded that I have the perfect life.

Darn. I was afraid of that.

'Cause except for that hideous picture of me blowing my nose, I don't write much about the downs of life. Usually I stick to the ups. And that is one of the problems about blogging. You get to choose what to write about--so your readers see your life through whatever picture you paint. (I have a whole post coming about the ins and outs of blogging. Just you wait.)

Anyway, I have chosen to paint a pretty darn sunny picture on this here blog. There are a couple of reasons for that. First of all, I have found that happiness breeds more happiness. In other words, when I choose to focus on the good things that are happening in my life, I feel more happy and more grateful. I have had plenty of pessimism and sarcasm and cynicism in my life. I don't need any more of it. Number two: a lot of life's struggles are too private to blog about. I'm moderately private, and my husband is super private, so that explains that. And finally. I feel like a baby listing my woes when I know others are suffering more.

Let me illustrate.

Truth: The economic crisis has hit our family. We have cinched our budget WAY WAY up. Our ends would not be meeting if it weren't for an answer to prayers that came in the form of a phone call asking me to watch a couple extra boys every week for someone I had never before met. But the thing is, I still buy real butter, and we eat deliciously fresh produce. Those are luxuries most of the world doesn't enjoy. And while it's a stretch to make our mortgage payment, I chose that mortgage payment. And there are hundreds of people a few hundred miles south that are living in a tent city, so how dare I complain?

Truth: My boys have been hard lately. Roger's sweet temperament changed drastically the day he became mobile. He screams like a wild banshee a lot of the time. Yesterday when I picked Blaine up from his nursery class at church, he bit me (hard!) on the shoulder. Twice. (Or was it thrice?) He has spent a lot of time in his room for disobedience lately. And I keep wondering about the scripture that says we should become meek and submissive like a little child. (Who's child is meek and submissive? Not mine!) But Blaine snuggled up to me in bed this morning and rubbed my back. And Rog signed "please" last night for the first time. Which was maybe the cutest thing I've ever seen in my life. And I'd rather think of those things, or else motherhood would feel like the serious pits. Plus, a lot of mothers have it a lot harder. Like single mothers, for instance.

Truth: I've had a cold for a month. Just when I thought last week that it was finally all gone, I developed a sore throat that has persisted several days. Also, I am terribly sore relative to weaning, if you catch my drift. I want to pop myself with a needle. Worst of all, I have had chronic headaches for about ten years. For about the last three weeks though, I have had particularly bad ones every single day. (I haven' t had one for a couple of days, so knock on wood or something.) And while this has felt really hard to me, I've been trying to keep my perspective. One of my dearest of dears has cancer for the third time. She has begun chemo (again). And I read Nie every day, which makes me cry. Every day. And what's a headache to chemo or burned hands?

Now let's get a couple of things straight: I think it's just fine to blog about the downs in life. I appreciate people who keep it real, and I try to do the same (apparently I'm not that great at, though!). And I know that everyone's struggles are relative, and that I don't have to compare mine to others or think I can't complain about my hangnails from time to time. Overall though, the thing is, I do have a really great life. I live really comfortably. I have a really happy marriage and two beautiful boys (even if they do scream and bite). And even though trials come, I have the most important truth of all, which is that Christ has suffered all for us so that we don't have to. So I feel happy. And that is what I choose to write about. Most of the time. OK? OK.