Stealing an introverted moment to write. A little over a week ago, I downloaded an app on my computer that blocked facebook, ebay, amazon, and other sites that I tend to waste time on for seemingly legitimate means. I imagined all the extra writing time I’d have, and writing the second half of the the middle grades book I’m working on almost seemed manageable. (full disclosure: I can get spotty access to facebook on my kindle, and this article will post on facebook automatically when I hit publish).
That’s not how this week went down. With all that extra time, and lacking those artificial connections, we started having people over supper. The weather was beautiful, so we spent time outside enjoying the animals. This brought us to take a hard look at our fencing and spent a couple days outside rearranging it to suit our current needs. While we were out there, we came up with a list of other outside things that needed to be done. My brother came for a few days and do some outside projects for us. He and his boys are staying for the weekend.
Last night we added a couple more cousins that we hadn’t seen in a while, because, after a point, one or two extra in the mix doesn’t make that much of a difference. I am contemplating renting a tiller this weekend…seeing as we have all the extra hands.
I planned on letting everyone sleep in this morning, on starting chores late. On taking some time to sit, think quietly, write. That’s not how it went down. I had sleepy thoughts of sitting on my front porch with my bible and a cup of coffee and watching the sun rise. Then I opened my eyes and discovered I was already surrounded by wide awake children. (Our bed is still in the living room, a remainder from winter nights when we’d get up every couple of hours to keep the woodstove stocked) A couple people got up at seven and wanted to get their work over with. It is now 9:30, and an irate teenager is adjusting a last troublesome fence. My brother is loading the truck for one last trip to the dump. As I sneak off in to my little corner to write, nine other people fuss and bustle, fight, jostle and whine. I hear plans being made in the background for more people to join us later, for a trip to the park.
It is the real stuff of life. Presidential candidates exist on some other planet. This world begins at the top of the hill and ends at the bottom of the drive. It’s problems consist of soggy cereal left in forgotten bowls, children who cry “not fair”, a naughty puppy, and whether their will be 12 or 14 people to feed when lunch time rolls around.
I realize that I do need to pull away a little. Maybe have a quieter week next week, for sanity’s sake. Many hands have made lighter work, and much more has gotten done this week than I could have possibly ever done on my own. I find my temper growing shorter, my shoulders getting cringier, my mind seeking a quiet place in the midst of the tumult, and I am thankful that “for everything there is a season”.