The Big Picture

On Friday, I met up with a new friend at a shopping center play place.

She is probably one of the most beautiful people I have seen up close.

I literally just sat there and stared at her as we visited, while frequently interrupting her to tell her, again, you are really pretty.

But on top of probably being very photogenic, she is also very wise.

And she gave me lots of good advice.

The kind where someone tells you exactly what you should do.
Which is perfect because I have been stressing about what to do for eight effing months. 

She really does have the gift of clarity and can see the bigger picture.

So, as Micah perched atop the mall's fake train for tens of minutes at a time, preventing other small children from using it, and yes, making them cry, we chatted (and then I made him get down and he monopolized the slide instead).

She said everything I have been needing to hear.

In fact, I would daresay that a prayer was answered. 

And a crap-load of (self-induced) guilt was lifted.

I have been plodding along with my head down, over-analyzing my every move, self-absorbed and paralyzed with the enormity that is life and she blows in and says, "Just ride the wave. Ride it all the way to the beach. Let all the expectations and stress go and trust that you are slowly moving in the right direction."

We talked for over two hours so she said a lot more than that, but what I took away was that I was on the right path. 

And I was, in fact, already doing something that was helping my family to move forward (being present and involved as a stay-at-home parent and tending to my children's emotional, spiritual, and intellectual needs.)

Everything else will fall into place when the time is right.
No one expects me to have overcome this hurdle in eight short months.

And that the happiest parts of my life are still ahead of me.

"But it is hard to trust and have faith," I whined.

"I know, I know, young padawan, but if you force it, it will fail. It doesn't have to be as hard as you are making it. Do what you love and take care of your kids."

And then my head literally exploded.
And how, you may ask, can one write such an eloquent post sans head?
I do not have an answer to that but I do have a better idea of how I want to spend my time, what goals I have for the immediate future, and why I do not like taking my children to public places where there are people.
On a less forward-looking note, I finally went through/organized/packed away all of Scott's toiletries/personal effects.
Then I tried to think of more like nouns/verbs to string together with the " / " symbol.
All of his little everyday belongings have been sitting in a basket in my room since January.
I poked through them and gently packed them in a small pouch to save — even his used q-tips. 
Is that gross/creepy/pathetic?
I literally can not stop forward slashing.
Well, whether or not it is disturbing, I did it.
And then I cried.
And then I made dinner.
The end.

^^ His razor, cologne, glasses, passport, deodorant, business cards, Pet Shops. ^^ 

^^ And I am very proud of this photo because 1) it is my first real picture playing this crazy sport, 2) it looks as if I am being useful, 3) my legs look smokin'. ^^