I went to bed last night mildly panicked.
I didn’t know what I would write about today.
So as my head hit the pillow, I said a little prayer that inspiration would find its way to my brain, followed by some wit and charisma, and I hoped that a magical blog post that meant something would hit me by 5:30 Saturday morning.
I did dream about something, and I even had the presence of mind at the moment to think, “Op, here it is!”. (“Op” apparently is a real word, because spell check is not catching it. This is good to know, because I use it a lot in my daily vocabulary, and I never really believed it was a word. It probably does not mean what I think it means. . .)
It had arrived – my inspiration and my post – but I lost it when I woke up.
I’m still not sure what it was.
It will be back, I’m sure, just not in time for today.
And then I realized this whole situation, this whole procrastination predicament I am in at 6:15 this morning, is a perfect little thing to talk about.
I hope, my friends, that I do not come off sounding as though I think know it all. I know very little.
I hope it is clear that I’m just taking little bits of things that strike a chord with me, and make a positive difference in my life, and passing them on to you in hopes that they do something positive for you too.
I’m doing a lot of hoping.
So this is the thing that struck me.
I am a procrastinator. I am also a hopeful person.
These two thoughts sent me on a trail of pondering who I am – pros and cons.
So yes, I am a procrastinator. And yes, I am hopeful.
I also hate housework. But I am creative.
I am warm. I enjoy time to myself.
I am not particularly fashionable.
I’m not really a baby person – except for my own.
I love candy too much. Ironing is the bane of my existence.
I hate homework. I love to read.
I am introspective. I pray.
I stink at gardening, although I’d love to have a garden.
I find peace in painting. I am a terrible dancer.
I will never make macarons, no matter how trendy they are.
I will always make snickerdoodles, no matter how old-school they are.
My house is almost always messy.
I am great at organizing when I have the time and resources.
If you’re walking your dog in the neighborhood and it happens to get loose and run into my back yard (and then bust into my house through the partially opened screen door), you might find a pile of dirty diapers on the patio because I don’t want them in the house but haven’t taken them all the way to the garbage can yet. Utterly humiliating for me, yes. I don’t know what your thought is. I’m pretty much just hoping you are too embarrassed by your dog’s behavior to be thinking about my pile of dirty diapers.
I obsess about things I say that I think might offend whomever I said them to.
I worry about ending sentences in prepositions, but allow myself to do it for the sake of writing style.
I am blessed with a beautiful group of friends whom I treasure.
I stay up too late. I exercise. I eat too much junk food. I am grateful.
These things are me. They just are. I can change some things if I want to. At some point, I’m sure I will.
But the thing that I realized this morning was that it’s all OK.
It’s OK that I don’t have some crazy profound life lesson to share today.
It’s OK that I let dirty diapers congregate outside the back door.
It’s OK that last night’s dishes are still in the sink.
It’s OK that I clean my house in bits and pieces whenever I can muster the motivation and time (which rarely coincide).
It’s OK to be whomever you are at this particular place in time. That is who you are. That is who you’ve been created to be.
Sure, pick something to work on, just don’t beat yourself up if you can’t nip it in the bud right away.
Every time you think of something you loathe, come back with something you love.
You are wonderful just the way you are.
Accept it, and believe it.
And stop leaving dirty diapers on the patio.