I lost my engagement ring this morning. I've only had this one for a few months; it is a replica of the first one, which fell off my finger during our first winter in the Midwest. Having spent the bulk of my marriage in balmy California, I was unprepared for how slender my fingers get in the cold. My rings fit perfectly in the summer, but slide right off in the winter.
Yesterday also didn't go the way it was supposed to go. (We seem to have a theme.) I spoke carelessly, as I am given to do when I'm overtired and stressed out. The carelessness has been forgiven, the lesson learned. I wish I had learned all my lessons by now. I'm trying very hard to focus on being grateful for grace. And I'm trying to give grace to myself: it's a good thing to be a student in this world, to be willing to accept responsibility and make changes and not move through life convinced I can do no wrong.
So, it's been a bum week, and its only Tuesday. But I have this baby who is in that magical time where a little more personality emerges every single day. Yesterday she began protesting going into her car seat. But she doesn't protest the way her sister did, loudly and with great fanfare. She simply arches her back, without so much as a peep, and hovers over the seat with her belly in the air. And I have this girl who is in the midst of a wonderful mama-loving phase. She's always taken her turns with us, loving us both for sure, but leaning hard into one, and then the other. I am the one to read the books before bedtime these days, the one to stay with her until sleep comes. Last night, we were holding hands in bed. "Actually?" she whispers. "Actually, Mama, I love holding hands with you."
Actually? Maybe it's not a bum week at all.
And now it's time to write something about the Holy Spirit.
EDITED TO ADD: I found it. Whew.