A friend asks today if writing the blog ever feels like a chore. “Not usually,” I answer, “unless I get behind.” I say this knowing I have several unwritten entries to piece together from a handful of half-coherent notes.
I jot down things every day to remember the details with the hope that I’ll write in the evenings after the boys and I read together and everyone’s tucked into bed. But, as we all know, life has a funny way of driving the train off the tracks.
These spring days full of lacrosse and baseball, soccer practice and after-school play dates, I find myself looking at the clock wondering how could it possibly be dinnertime. And what in the world are we eating since I didn’t make it to the store?
Life is busy. Plans change. We figure it out.
But the blog is never a chore. It’s been a learning experience for the boys and I, a way that pushes us how to think and act differently. It’s a reminder to do the right thing when the wrong thing might be easier. It’s been an opportunity for us to stretch to become the people we want to be.
How could something this fun ever be considered work?