Jeremy asked about the radio silence, and I have some answers: the first is that I'm working like I've never worked before. Evenings, weekends, traveling 7 weeks out of 8, doing the Evans streak of workaholism proud, kicking my butt to get everything done, learned, organized the needs way it needs to be. I want to talk about this more a little later. I've been balancing these full-to-bursting weeks with time to chat with, stare at, and watch TV with my handsome husband, and only just.
The second reason is something that I've come to view as characteristic of myself: when things are uncertain, I tend to do more watching quietly and much less talking/writing. There's a Dr. Suess line--"It's grey day, everything is grey. I watch, but nothing moves today."--that is sort of my mantra in these times. The issue, though, is less that nothing is moving, but that everything is. Moving, as I'm starting to see, and believe, in the right direction, but still unsteady, a little incomprehensible.
Finally, though, I feel like I've had a couple of good months of treasuring things in my heart. Where sometime silence is a sort of/sign of disempowerment, I feel like I've been generally quiet lately because so much of my effort is going toward understanding. I'm learning to know, love, trust, and appreciate James in new ways every day (even now, I'm getting teary thinking about it. Blame it on hormones if you must). I'm learning more about my body and the little body inside of me. I feel individual parts, now, his head keeping me from comfortably crossing my arms over my belly, his tiny slimy elbows sliding against my insides, his signature round-house that races like a weird comet under my skin. I'm getting more and more excited to meet this boy, excited to see the world through his eyes, to spend time staring at his perfect face.
And I'm learning some things about life. The kind of things you get to relearn a million times, and are just as painful/enlightening the first time as the next.
Work is a part of life. There will never be a time (not in the foreseeable future at least) when I will get as much sleep as I want. There will never be a time when I'm not worrying about money, about James, about what the best thing for my family is. This last 6 months have weighed heavy--too much to do, too many expectations (filled and unfillable)--and I've prayed or hoped to find an escape somehow and there is no escape. Not because I'm doing something wrong, but because this burden is the point. This work and worry is why I'm here, and hear me out on this one, the real lesson that I'm learning is that, as I come to accept that, the joy of the struggle becomes more evident. I focus less on how much I'd rather be doing anything else and more on the things I'm learning, the ways I'm supported and loved, I'm starting to make conscientious choices about how I react instead of stabbing blindly. And I'm starting to get my priorities sorted. This is all very new, and I don't think these small changes are evident to anyone else, but I'm starting to find peace in the place I am and I'm very grateful for that.
This weekend is beautiful. The temperature dove Thursday so I came home from a muggy Detroit to jacket weather. I'm sitting in our front room (sick tissues because my immune system decided that enough was enough, Conference snacks, and a Pack-n-Play full of tiny clothes and waaaay too many blankets (we may have overshot, Miss Anne, and I forgot about the 5 blankets already waiting for me), and diapers even) while James is at Priesthood enjoying the quiet and enjoying being home. I'll post something chattier tomorrow (with pictures if I get to them): Borscht, Books, and Breakfast.