It's January. The parties are over. The decorations carefully boxed and stored until the season rolls 'round again. Ralphie and his father's leg lamp as well as George Bailey and Clarence now sit silently on a shelf or perhaps in a drawer. We've visited and/or partied with everyone we could ever want to visit (and quite a few that we'd prefer to never have to see ever again). Every group whose roster we've signed, every group whose roster our spouse has signed, our families, our friends, and our place of employment, all celebrate the holidays in some form or another. We've shopped and spent and baked and cooked and wrapped until our feet and fingers are numb and our pockets are empty (or beyond).
I think perhaps that the whole world must be as exhausted as I am (or at least the women who are the ones who typically make all of the above happen).
As I sit here typing this, I look out to my living room and see mounds of festive decorations. They no longer decorate my home. They simple sit in piles on and around the coffee table with their storage boxes nearby - arms open, ready to receive their wards. As my former self, this mess would be completely unacceptable, and I would have stayed up until all hours to rid my sight of so much clutter.
As it is, I have other things to be stressed about and I've come to realize that although I still relish a clean and clutter-free home, I can't do it all - at least not all at the same time. I can't work overtime in January (as I need to) and cook wonderful dinners and grocery shop and clean and write and spend time with my husband and talk with my kiddos and take care of the dog and . . . and . . . and.
So with New Year resolutions running amuck as they do each January, I'll join the fray and resolve that this year, I'll believe that God knew just what He was doing when He decided that each day would be 24 hours long (afterall, look at all that Jack Bauer can do with 24 hours!). I'll endeavor to "number my days aright." I'll believe that there are enough hours in the day, and I'll determine to fix my eyes on God and ask Him what it is that He thinks I should do with the 24 hours that loom in front of me each morning when I slip my feet into my slippers.
I think perhaps that the whole world must be as exhausted as I am (or at least the women who are the ones who typically make all of the above happen).
As I sit here typing this, I look out to my living room and see mounds of festive decorations. They no longer decorate my home. They simple sit in piles on and around the coffee table with their storage boxes nearby - arms open, ready to receive their wards. As my former self, this mess would be completely unacceptable, and I would have stayed up until all hours to rid my sight of so much clutter.
As it is, I have other things to be stressed about and I've come to realize that although I still relish a clean and clutter-free home, I can't do it all - at least not all at the same time. I can't work overtime in January (as I need to) and cook wonderful dinners and grocery shop and clean and write and spend time with my husband and talk with my kiddos and take care of the dog and . . . and . . . and.
So with New Year resolutions running amuck as they do each January, I'll join the fray and resolve that this year, I'll believe that God knew just what He was doing when He decided that each day would be 24 hours long (afterall, look at all that Jack Bauer can do with 24 hours!). I'll endeavor to "number my days aright." I'll believe that there are enough hours in the day, and I'll determine to fix my eyes on God and ask Him what it is that He thinks I should do with the 24 hours that loom in front of me each morning when I slip my feet into my slippers.
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