I started a post last night as I wallowed in my hotel room awaiting an immenent snow fall, which never did arrive mind you, but something else distracted me and the post was all but forgotten. I assure you that would never have happened had I been in our home with my bustling family milling about and numerous distractions forcing me to keep my train of thought. The lesson being: solitude is not all it is cracked up to be.
Most of the evening was spent researching Texas history in the months after the Civil War. Albeit a rather dry subject for most, I found some interesting tidbits to use in the novel I and painstakingly working on. Now, hopefully, I can just write the story with the underpinning firmly entrenched in my brain. (Historicals require a bit more work than just writing.)
Being as I have been away from my family twice in one week, I am so grateful to have been home Wednesday. My absence on Monday seemed to propel my children in illness. One large pot of chicken soup and some mothering brought them back from the brink whatever dark sickness attempted to suck them in. They are well again. I really believe there is something about Moms taking care of families that truly sets the world right.
Cudos to ALL you moms out there. We do a seemingly thankless job at times,but for me I find so intrinsically rewarding. It is as if my very soul yearns to mother and care. Without my family for this outlet, I would shrivel up and fade away, or find some cause to champion. Did the Good Lord make me this way on purpose? Was it part of His design to instill these longings in me? Did he make me this way only to prevent my family from suffering (He is merciful you know.)? He either has a huge sense of humor or is tragically twisted. To make it worse, all the things in which I take my enjoyment - writing, cooking, horses, music... have no meaning without the context of my family. If it is not right with the family, then there is no joy in the extras.
Twisted. I thrive in the midst of the distractions. I missed sitting in the living room, the only place for my desk and computer, with the TV next to me and the wood stove warming me and Corvette Man requesting this or that and commenting on this or that, all as I work on my book or my blog. The practice required to maintain a train of thought in the midst of the varied stimulations aids in the creative process. I'm beginning to see the sense in all this seemingly chaotic order.
I guess to put it quite simply. I missed my litte piece of heaven. I can't wait to get back home where I belong.
Love you all.