When You Think You’re Failing

My highlight for today?  The place where I hammered  the spike into the side of my mountain? It was that moment when I had provided food for everyone.

I made breakfast for Jerry.  He got “toad-in-a-hole” made with the new biscuit cutter I got at Brookshire’s.  I made some for my fifteen year old, Rebekah, too. I brought them to her in bed with a glass of orange juice.  Michael got French toast with powdered sugar and syrup. Matthew walked into the kitchen sleepily just in time to get the last set of French toast and a large glass of O.J.

 I fed and watered Trixie, my rescued miniature poodle.  She follows me everywhere I go.  Her gratitude knows no bounds. I cleaned out the bird’s water and replaced his food.  He is a beautiful, and happy cockatiel who sings and talks and makes us laugh when he flies around the house and lands on our heads.  

Out on the cold back deck, I poured out cat food onto the wooden railing where India and Violet like to eat.  I filled the ceramic dog bowls for Jackson, Ginger and Sam.  They are laid out in the grass exhausted from patrolling our land through the night.  A rottweiler and two husky/golden retrievers keep all wild things from our yard.

I returned to the warmth of the house where I cut up an onion and chicken for tortilla soup.  I gathered all the ingredients and blended and chopped and sauteed and seasoned until, finally, it simmered.  I placed the lid on the pot of soup, breathed a little sigh and began helping my ten year old, Michael, with his school work.

I don’t always make their breakfast.  They are all very capable.  But today it met a need in me.  It surprised me really. It grew in my heart and made a safe place for me to stand. Then, when the pressure rose inside me and that voice began niggling at me that I am failing, I didn’t take the bait.

When I caught the piles of backed-up laundry from the corner of my eye or the messiness growing in my closet, I suddenly remembered the look on their faces when they saw the snow-like sprinkling of powdered sugar on their french toast and the tiny silver pot of syrup on the tray.

I’m doing alright.  I am not doing everything I want to be doing.  My house is far from my ideal. I spent too much time on-line, looking at Imgur, when my 18 year old son sent me the link on Facebook, even though  we were sitting in the same room.  But I fed everyone. The thought grew brighter and filled me with a warm confidence.  I fed everyone.  And today, I did it with love.

visiting with laura, jennifer lee, emily, outside the city gate