Instead of Cleaning

This morning I spent some time printing out the little quarter-sheet Cliff Notes that will accompany our plain and boring Christmas cards. I used vellum, so I had to feed them into the printer slowly and monitor their progress because it has a tendency to slip and smear.

I needed to pick up the house, do laundry, and work on the MFPs (most filthy places)so I could get started on holiday baking for friends and neighbors and school staff before Friday.

While nursing the vellum I poked around my favorite blogs, grateful to have uninterrupted time in the office and pleased with the new cushy chair in front of the computer. I eventually found myself captivated by the story of plane crash survivor Stephanie Nielson, beautifully written by Jaimee Rose for an Arizona newspaper. And I couldn't stop reading.

I cried as I read how her daughter couldn't look at her scarred face in the hospital. How, once home, she bargained with this most-precious little girl to try, maybe only look at her toe today.

How she watched her little boy cling to his aunt and cry for "Mom" to come back when her sister left.

How slowly things began to heal.

I read of her pain, frustration, anger, and joy. How she marked the anniversary of her plane crash by painfully hiking Y mountain... in large to show her children she could do it. I joyed in her victory, and sorrowed for the long road of healing she still has ahead of her.

And I felt pretty small, worrying about my plain Christmas cards.

And MFPs.

And cookies.

But I also felt overwhelming gratitude for my children and the blessing to care for them in a body that is far from perfect, but whole.

You can read her story here.