Coffee. Pray. Journal. Let the dog out. Read to my son. Get the kids to the bus. Take Scout on a run. Shower. Christmas shopping with Jodie. (Adults in my life, be prepared for my friend Jesse’s new CD called Homecoming. It’s that good.) Hide aforementioned presents in strategically kid-free zone.
Lunch. Read. Write a rough draft message. Shoot said message to trusted pastoral friends. Scramble home. Make dinner. (Like for the third time in 12 years of marriage.) Set table. Burn Garlic toast. Try to wave the fire alarm off. Open the doors. Plug in a fan to remove last of smoke.
Feed dog. Family arrives home from Tae Kwon Do. Eat together. Notice it is our first dinner at home together in over a week.
Do dishes. Light a fire in the fireplace. Wrestle with kids. Oversee homework. Oversee piano lessons. Carry laundry up. Straighten house. Snap some crazy pictures with kids on photo booth. Happy soldier my kids through teeth-brushing and into bed. Let the dog out. Realize that it has been a week since I last blogged. Remember that pain of chaos is somewhat universal. Decide to turn my chaos into one more blog entry. Try to remember what I did today. Forgot that I also cleaned up the utility closet. And answered email. And thanked Jesus for loving me.
The fire is dying down now, and the kids are in bed, and Scout is somewhat subdued. The few flames left hardly make any noise. My wife is not yet home from her PTA meeting. I just inhaled really big, and exhaled. It is quiet, quiet.
I suddenly became really aware of great joy in my heart.