The Healing Power of a Good Book and Fine China...

At this very moment, there are approximately ninety millionity things I should be doing.  Including, but not limited to, getting dinner ready, cleaning bathrooms, dusting, mopping and possibly moving the laundry I threw in this morning from the washer to the dryer.  

That's just the tip of the cleaning iceberg too.

And I'll take it a step further and share with you this:  I've been dodging all that this entire week.

Last week was a rough week for me.  Not sure how much I'll share...someday...but I'm processing and praying my way through it.  It was one of those weeks that left me exhausted and feeling a little like I'd been hit by a bulldozer.  By Sunday night, I was pretty much D.O.N.E.  

But then a ray of hope.

This.

I've read Boo Mama before.  Like her on Facebook.  Follow her on Twitter 

(When I actually open up Twitter since I personally know about three people who Tweet.  At all.)  

(And it just feels a little weird to follow a whole bunch of people I don't personally know because it smacks of eavesdropping.  In a technologically awkward way.)  

(Yes, I know that makes zero sense.) 

And she is the good stuff, y'all.  

Plus she lives in Birmingham.  

Her tweets were actually super helpful during the IcePocalypse of 2014.  When my parents spent two days in the Alabama Power Building.  Because they got stuck downtown attempting to go to a doctor's appointment.

(And I should confess, in discussing the situation with my brother, I might have said the words, "What were they THINKING?"  I have no memory of saying those words but my daughter reminds me of them frequently.  When she quotes me verbatim.  Super.  Fun.)

Since Boo Mama's book was free and the good Lord knew I needed to laugh, I started reading Sunday night.  Stayed up until almost midnight reading.  Eleven the next night.  And wrapped up reading it yesterday.  

And I laughed.  And fell in love with my family simply by reading about her family.  Made me homesick and giddy at the same time.  It was a wonderful reminder of the Lord's calling on my life.  The dream He's given me.  To write, care for children and walk with others going through infertility.  

Sometimes...and not that I do this at all...because I'm clearly the most focused person ever...we can get distracted from our calling.  Satan loves that.  To pull our attention away from the ministries and passions and dreams The Lord gives us.  He frustrates us with shiny things.  Or sometimes things that we try and mesh and mold to fit into our calling.  When really, it is what is it and what it is is a distraction.

(High five for the English language and our ability to use "is is" right next to each other like that.)

Reading Boo Mama's book, I found my way back to being present in my family.  Being intentional about engaging with my kids.  And, yes, dreaming of writing.  I think I've written two new chapters of my book.  In my head.  Which totally counts.  

I'm also grateful to have Grandmother's formal china, Mamaw's everyday china, my everyday china and my formal china.  Plus my various crystal pitchers, serving platters and my swoon-worthy crystal punch bowl.  

I've yet to use my crystal punch bowl in Texas.  Which, to me, just proves Texas is NOT the South.  Not to mention the sadly missing corsages at baby showers and bridal teas.  But I have HOPE.  A hope that someday, we will move closer to family and the South.  Where both the punch bowl and a good corsage are considered good and perfect gifts from above.

Amen.

Young people just don't seem to have an appreciation for things like lace tablecloths and formal china and corsages.  Shameful, y'all.  Shameful.

Because THIS is how Southern women do showers.

Church Bridal Tea, circa 2000.

Baby E shower, circa 2010.

Ditto.

I mean.  Can we all just agree a corsage and a pretty, modest outfit are simply THE WAY TO DO A SHOWER???  I dread thinking about young women today attending showers in strapless sundresses a size too small and being served bottled water and a store bought cake on the plastic liner.  For the love, at least move it to your Grandmother's crystal cake plate.  Please.  

All that to say...go read her book.  And her blog.  You're welcome.