We thought our dryer was broken.
Two repair teams later and a couple of months later, we learned that no, it worked perfectly. The vent that goes through thirty feet of ceiling and three rooms is disconnected someplace causing overheating and ultimately, a fire hazard. The repairman guessed the disconnect was above the hallway, but after Daniel cut a hole, we learned he was wrong. It’s actually above our bedroom—we hope. So yes, our dryer works, but since I still can’t use it, I’m hanging our laundry on chairs, railings, and doors. And we’re getting another hole in the ceiling.
Life is off-center lately. Too many things are uncertain, unbalanced.
I don’t like it.
A certain amount of change is normal, even expected, but I find myself in the middle of too many waiting games. There’s the three-year-old who seems, despite my prayers and fit-throwing, to be transitioning away from his daily nap and into all day stubbornness. Then there are the nagging household problems, like the dryer. There are conflicts among our friends and in general, a feeling of waiting, purposelessness, and lethargy.
These are all small problems. They’re not going to ruin my life, but they can wreck my day, derail my happiness, if I let them. The doubts are more unsettling.
This fall marks two year of living in brain tumor land. Am I doing this whole stare cancer down thing right? Will I someday regret doing what I’m doing now? Did I take full advantage of summer now that the indoor months of winter are coming? Life is changing, and right now, there are few answers, no specific solution. It’s not an easy fix. The good things never are easy.
What I can do for now is return to the things that center me, the things that remind me of the blessings, the good around me. I can watch Shaun the Sheep with Daniel and Nate, laughing at farm animals’ antics. I can remember my faith, spending time with those who share it with me. I can create, making gaudy necklaces with Nate and crocheting in the evenings. I can cook my favorite stew, enjoying the colors of the carrots and the coolness of the potatoes. I can sleep and nap, getting enough rest.
And I can write. I can write to tell Nate what the unsure seasons are like. I can write to remind myself that the good things, the gifts, still surround me.
My little family has faced similar questions before and there’s always an answer out there. It takes time and patience—often more than I’d like—for it to be found. For right now, though, in the waiting, I need to remind myself to recenter on the known and the good.
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