Sometimes words are hard, and that’s okay. I very much struggled with feeling overwhelmed on Sunday, and didn’t accomplish much beyond going to visit Papaw in the hospital. I didn’t even manage to drag my rear to church.
Yesterday, I put together this InstaStory. Rather than try to type it all out into a traditional post, I thought I’d share the story itself.
The list of what I accomplished Sunday:
Golden Girls marathon
Change the sheets on our bed
Shower & wash my hair
Braid my wet hair before bed
I share the last two, because, while they did take effort, they also were the reason for the random bathroom selfie. My sister has worn her hair down after sleeping on a braid before. When I couldn’t summon the umph to dry my hair before bedtime I threw it in a quick french braid.
I figured worst case scenario, I’d wake up to dry, crazy hair and rock a ponytail for the day. Instead, I was actually pleased with the result. While its not as cute as if I had used a curling iron, its far cuter than my effort would suggest.
The point of this rambling on a post about difficult gratitude? Sometimes you’ve got to appreciate any tiny little thing you can grasp. I’ve been neglecting my gratitude journal because I didn’t have the energy to write in it, forgetting that writing in it is so life giving to me.
After crawling in bed last night, I put my journal in my lap purposing to come up with something to add. Anything. And when I did, it was a doozie: