Him = meticulous, controlled, calm
North and South
When we first got married I would tease him that it took him forever to wash the dishes...Gently tease because a girl would be a fool to critize a willing helper.
He, in turn, would tease me that I always missed stuff on the plates. The jest was only fair at that point...and true.
So we comprimised:
I wash the dishes quickly, and when he rises them, he'll send them back through if they don't pass the sanitation test.
Final Product:
Clean dishes real fast.
But I'm always getting things done fast. (Not always well, but fast)
And when yesterday came around, I was tired down to my soul
and it was only Monday.
I was sure that I had hours of work to do.
But I went to bed anyway.
Appartently my soul is a stronger force to be reckoned with than just my body.
My soul demands sleep while my body just suffers (that is until my soul pipes up.)
When I woke up this morning, I told myself NO MATTER WHAT
I will not be frantic today.
"Like Paul," I said.
"Try to be like Paul today.
See if it really works."
Because I've had my doubts...
10 minutes before school started:
"Hey, Rebekah, how are you?"
"Fine, you see, I am exerting every possible ounce of self-control I possess because I promised myself I would not be frantic today. How are you?"
Everything that HAD to be done before school started, got done.
A parent came in unexpectedly to observe.
No stress.
Okay, fine, that was a lie.
There WAS stress.
A lot.
But not as much.
Not as much stress (Brain Reagan voice again)
Couldn't find something for a lesson
(organized people shouldn't RE-organize too much.
It gets confusing.
I couldn't remember WHICH logical thought I used when I last made the decision about where to put that one thing away.)
But I stayed calm.
With the help of a minor Godly intervention,
I found it,
because I was still enough to hear the revelation.
And that belt/ girrdle/ stirrup/ tourniquet/ thing that makes the car keep working...
It broke.
Enter obscene amount of money here ---> $______.__
And it's okay.
Not peachy.
DEFINITELY not peachy.
But okay.
Because I hadn't been frantic so far.
Why start now?
And I have this feeling,
inspite of previous doubt,
That Paul's right on this one.
But the question remains,
Am I tough enough to try it again tomorrow?
And this has nothing to do, whatsoever, with my thoughts today except that Grandma B is the bomb.com.
I never saw a cuter witch. Though little Cousin Hailey was tough competition. Mother's bias, you understand.
