Today didn't go the way I wanted it to.
When my family left this morning, I sat at the computer doing family history research. When my husband came home for lunch, four hours later, I was in the same position. Still in my pajamas, sitting cross-legged in our desk chair.
I don't have anything productive in hand from my hours researching. Ideas, time spent learning, information for my mom about her Irish forebears, yes; tangible results for so much time spent in hyperfocus, no.
Partly because of the wet, autumn-dreary, weather, partly because of the information I waded through, and partly because of my feeling that this morning was wasted time, my whole frame aches. It's just how 'me' works for now: any stress ends up resonating through me physically as joint pain and fatigue.
I hoped to follow up on some productive days last week--do some laundry, clean a few rooms, shower--none of those things happened.
Will I choose to keep reminding myself of all I didn't do this morning?
The act of sitting down to write this is a way of choosing grace. I choose to remember who I am: a learner, a puzzle solver, a girl who loves to find family stories. I choose to remember how enthralled I felt as I delved into Irish parish records and immigrant ship descriptions and sailing dates. I choose to be thankful for who I am, for a family who loves me for being me.
Today, so help me, I will choose grace in the middle of gray.
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