Wishful Thinking

Sometimes I wish I had the money to buy a pretty blog, one that’s properly designed and loads fast and stuff.

Sometimes I wish we had a well designed fast loading website for The Charis Project too.

Sometimes I wish I had the perfectly posed and coordinated family photo, the kind other people seem to take every 3 months or so and then blow up real big and stick on the wall over their couch in an artful arrangement that looks just like Pinterest.

Sometimes I get so overwhelmed by giant things that I fixate on small things like that and end up starting an argument with my husband over trying to plan a family photo session.

Sometimes I wish I had some idea already of where we’re going to live, and what kind of house and just, please, somewhere without 20 extra people to bump into unexpectedly when I’m just looking for breakfast. (I exaggerate. There are only 8 kids, 2 babies, and 9 adults when everyone is here at the same time.

While we’re at it, sometimes I fantasize about how one day I’ll have a bathroom all to myself, that only I use, ever, and I will never accidentally step, or sit, in someone’s pee puddle again. (A girl has to have her dreams after all.)

Sometimes I fixate over having one little corner to myself instead, just one place that is quiet and no one disturbs me when I’m trying to do something. I don’t have one, just so you know.

Sometimes I think I will never have a thought that completes itself ever again.

Sometimes my inability to complete thoughts without interruption, coupled with people needing me to make giant decisions about stuff I don’t feel like I am capable of making decisions about, and the desperate need to just have some space quiet enough to think and regroup makes me wonder if all my decisions aren’t suspect, fueled simply by a desire to just run away to escape the constant hubbub.

Sometimes I wish I wasn’t such an introvert deep down inside.

Sometimes I wish I didn’t have to choose between imperfect options that will affect our whole family.

Sometimes I’m afraid that once I finally do have the space to think I’ll realize that I was very wrong, and then I’ll be stuck with a bad decision and it’s consequences.

Sometimes I manage to remember that, in this instance, there are no right decisions and every choice has trade offs.

Sometimes I remember to push fear aside and carry on.

Sometimes it doesn’t stay gone and I have to fight with it on an hourly basis. 

Sometimes I lose.

Sometimes I think about easier things for a while, like how I would redesign my blog if I had money to hire someone to do it. It would be awesome if they could fix whatever is wrong with my domains too.

Sometimes the process of finding courage is a little circuitous.

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