If I could use one word to describe this past week (excepting my thrilling whirlwind tour with yogurt), it would be impatience.
For a while now, I have felt as though Husband and I had a number of significant decisions looming over us, and at the beginning of this week, I expected to be able to make some of those decisions. As in, I wanted to be able to make the decisions on Monday morning, preferably before 8:00 a.m.
But between waiting for a little information here and waiting for a little information there, we weren’t able to make those decisions on Monday morning before 8:00 a.m.
I ended up spending my week in a spirit of dissatisfied and grouchy suspension.
After Husband’s sister had spent two nights sharing our humble little house, and after I saw it snowing this morning, I realized this, and I was sorry I had wasted a week in such a state.
We had so much fun with Husband’s sister. We got to play Dominion, we shared enjoyable conversations, and we ate baked oatmeal together for breakfast. During her visit, I thought, Seeing family and good friends is so wonderful.
This morning I awoke to a town clothed in white. The welcomed white visitors were still arriving fast and steady when I sat down to read my Bible and pray, and I thought, Falling snow is so wonderful.
I caught myself in this state of contentment, as I contemplated the snow, and I realized what I had been missing this week: Contentment. Joy in the little things.
I finally remembered—thought of course, this will seem obvious to you, my wise readers—that joy is not found in making plans. Of course, joy can be found in the big things, the events that stand out as significant and life-changing, but the true art is finding the joy that’s woven inconspicuously into the plain pattern of everyday life.