The last few weeks have rocked my world in an I-don’t-know-if-I’m-coming-or-going kind of way.
I’ve been working a lot more than usual, we’ve had house guests for a week, and one of our boys moved out a couple of days ago — the first to officially leave the nest. I’m proud and excited for him, but a bit melancholy about seeing him go. I knew the day was coming but I don’t know if you are ever really ready, no matter how much you try to prepare. The other two boys won’t be far behind him so I’m bracing for an empty nest. Empty *gasp* nest. I don’t know how I feel about that.
Feeling out of sorts, I’m noticing everything else is a little off-kilter. My new design (in progress in the photo) is ten days behind schedule. My house needs attention. I’ve been doing a showdown with a hamper-full of laundry. The lawn desperately needs to be watered. And dinner tonight was cheese and crackers. Seriously.
But I’m reminded that chaos is a gift; it means we’re alive. Events of the last week have been tough in Oregon, and I can’t help but think how fortunate I am to be able to worry about silly things like whether or not I’ve watered the lawn or whether my knitting is on schedule, and remember what a privilege it is to see our boys grow up and embrace new chapters in their lives. It’s a luxury to have such worries.
Grateful for the chaos,