Stories

I hold inside myself stories untold.

The happenings thus far, simply characters and setting but the plot continues to unfold.

I have just figured this out.

What I have previously believed to be a story are merely chapters in the great novel of my life.  And though I will never right the next Great American Novel, my life will be my own version of this, as will yours.

Because I only have one life to live.  The thought following that is, "so you better get it right".  But I won't.  There will be things I miss, things I add which should have been left out.  The important thing is that I remember that I'm actually not the author.  He is.  I'll let him weave the words, create the climaxes and enter the hero because what I could put down would be not only unworthy of market but tragic.

So, I'll live each day on the page I'm at.  I can't peek ahead and I can't erase what's come.  I just trust.  Trust that He is the best storyteller who's ever been and He's writing mine.

What a day

What a day, what a day.

Confession:  For school we read The Dead by James Joyce.  Because I have to read it for my schoolwork.  That's killing two birds with one stone, my friends.  As for whether it was the finest decision, not so sure.

And then we ran.  All day.  Around and around the city.  Or at least it felt like that.  And we hadn't eaten lunch and were all ravenous and I couldn't find our destination and when they were all at once draining me with a million questions but mostly one question - could we go to McDonald's, I told them to talk to each other and not to me until further notice.

And then later, for relief, we went to Old Navy after the first errand.  Old Navy wasn't on the list but, well.  And they drove me nutty there, too.  And I pointed out all the other 'calm' kids and said, "Do you see those kids racing around like looney toons?"  And then I felt guilty for comparing them.  But still aggravated that I had the wildest children on the planet.

And then we went to the grocery store and we were all so tired from the day that suddenly everything was funny.  So we laughed about stupid stuff and got our groceries and came home.  It was a long day.  They all seem like long days.

It was a typical day, in that we're always together.  We always annoy each other at some point. We always crack each other up at some point.  We're close, I think.  And they're so young.  These days, crazy, running...they won't last for long.  I know this.  So I take it one day at a time and I try to laugh at what comes our way and enjoy the little things in the midst of it all.