Random Flowering

You know how every now and then you hit that point in life where you look at your calendar and you have "something" to do every single day for three consecutive weeks and you feel a bit overwhelmed by all of the random things in life that you manage to obligate yourself to do and all of a sudden the thought of simply keeping up with dishes and laundry and trying to pack lunches makes you want to cry? Yeah. That point. Well, I was completely there last week. It seems like things tend to all reach the critical point at work, church, and home simultaneously for me. Maybe it is because I have just survived a month of "busy-ness", but I feel freshly appreciative of all of the little things in my life. I am married to my best friend, am crazy about my son, get to experience the miracle of pregnancy again, and am just sort of satisfied with life in general. The weather is beautiful right now and I actually have the time to enjoy it again! Ahh.

I went on a ladies retreat this weekend that was just good for my soul on so many levels. Every now and then you just need a good estrogen filled weekend where you can laugh and cry and stay up way too late doing absolutely nothing. I came home feeling like I had encountered the Lord with my sisters, and that was a sweet thing.

And then, to make things even better, I got to come home to this. . .

And to top it all off, my precious husband does this thing that I call "random flowering." He is the absolute best about bringing me fresh flowers randomly throughout the year on non-anniversary, non-birthday, non-"apology" occasions. It is amazing how a bouquet of flowers can lift my spirits and make a girl feel so very cherished. So, I walk in the door from the retreat and Carter runs to me yelling "Mommy we got flowers for ya." Could life be any sweeter? And, could Mike be any sweeter? (I love you, mister Lewis.)

And I would be remiss if I did not share this story tonight! Carter loves to read and he loves the repetition of reading a book over and over and over. Last night I had read "Duck on a Bike" three times and he begged to read it again. I just couldn't do it, so I told him to look at the pictures. Not satisfied with this answer, he physically picked up my hands and put them on both sides of the book and then said to me "Now, use yours mouth and say the words." What's a girl to do?