We’re the type to put down roots it seems. To find our groove, rinse and repeat. Sure we like a good adventure now and then. But there’s nothing like a reliable schedule that makes me feel like I can rest and not have to be thinking every waking second.

Except that hasn’t been the last two years, and probably not the last four either. The last year especially feels like I’m on a downward slope without accelerator or brakes and the best I can hope to do is steer except even that is a bit sluggish and I keep finding myself down trails I hadn’t planned and the weeds have grown up and are choking out the blooms I so carefully planted but then forgot to water because something else needed my attention.

The constant appointments never seem to end. The work hours that can’t seem to stay in work hours. The house that is perpetually in such disarray that I could clean from morning to night and still find it a mess again when I wake up in the morning.

Some of these are perennial issues, but others are specific to the current season we find ourselves in. One that I probably wouldn’t have chosen but must find a way to endure nonetheless. No, not just endure, but find a way to live in, thrive in, and rejoice in. Otherwise what is in all for anyway?

Pulling up roots is hard, near impossible at times. Things I keep trying to tear out keep coming back and I can’t decide if that’s good or bad. Some things are meant to survive and others are just too hard to defeat.