Snow Day Wishes, or Grounding for Adults

I have been wishing for a snow day. I know it can't happen. I know it is not time yet. But I have been wishing for a snow day. I even dreamed that it had snowed and I got to wear my favorite, favorite wellies!!!!

I know that non-teachers don't get snow days. I'm sorry. Some people just pick the right career, that's all... :-)

It has dawned on me what it is about snow days that are so different. Why do I wish for a snow day right before Thanksgiving Break? Unscheduled time is coming... what's my deal, anyway?

The beautiful thing about a snow day is that you are 1. already ready for whatever else was going to come that day, but 2. you are required to stay home. Not only do you not go into work, no one else can impose an obligation on your time (besides the folks at the house).

A friend said it well just this week, "My house is yelling at me." And it is. Because of my parents' divorce, the detrius of years is sitting in boxes all around. I am thankful to my parents for not throwing away my memories. On the other hand, it is just a painful reminder. I don't know what to do with this stuff, logistically or emotionally. The other factor in the disarray is that I'm just not home. When I get home, I collapse. I feel (and am) obligated to many, many things that keep me away from home.

Whatever the reasons (or excuses), my house is yelling at me. My soul is yelling at me to stay home. So I will declare Saturday a snow day. In punitive terms, I am grounding myself to my house until at least a few boxes are cleared away, cried through, organized.

I will make myself create peace in the midst of chaos. 

Maybe then, my soul will quit feeling itchy. Maybe I will stop dreaming of snow. Whatever the case, I will have made a conscious choice to face the fears that are in my boxes. And the fact that I made the choice for peace (in both my physical and soul's reality) is worth more than a snow day.

Bittersweet

Nightmares. Bitter.

Early morning liturgy. Sweet.

Going to the doctor and realizing that I only hate the pregnant women there for a fraction of the time that I used to. Bittersweet.

Telling my friend of my soul's repair and success and having her worry that maybe I will hate her when she is pregnant again. Bitter. I didn't mean it that way. I told her because her eldest son is the first baby that I didn't hate when I realized I would never be a mom. That family has been so redemptive and healing for me. And they don't know it, and they can't understand. Some walk this soil and never know the blessing they are to others.

Getting the sweetest cuddle from her second son. If my soul hadn't healed, I would have missed that!! Sweet.

Meeting with a wonderful woman who is also an "adult of divorce." She reached out to me, took the time. Sweet.

Recounting all of the shocks and sadnesses the divorce has brought me. The confusion, the ironies. Bitter.

Knowing that the thing that she says is the worst part of it is the first thing I had encountered in "processing." Knowing I am not alone, that I can see myself in her eyes. Bittersweet.

Feeling I have gained a friend, knowing that she will pray for me. Sweet.

It's been a bittersweet day.