Thoughts I’ve thought while pondering my Kitchen Aid

Thoughts from three days ago …

So while making meatballs this afternoon I was ruminating.  I have tried to explain to my husband that my mind works so fast that I must share some of my thoughts or I’ll explode.  “Really, Lindsey? You’ll explode?” Ok, Matt so I might be exaggerating just a little bit, but that is the way it feels sometimes.

Anyhow, one of the things I was thinking of is I might be less apt to express some of the not-so-stellar thoughts I have if I would sit down and write more frequently, and thus, here I am.  The beauty of writing is that you have the opportunity to edit your words.  With speaking, thoughts shared can never be retrieved.

So in my mind I was crafting a letter to Black and Decker.  This is where I feel like something’s gotta spew forth from the recesses of my vocabulary to give a voice to my frustration.  Have you ever had a “gift” you couldn’t with good conscience use?  I do.  My “gift” is words.  I wanted to quickly use my food processor and eliminate the need of chopping, which as any lover of cooking knows is a necessary part of the creating process, but especially in Italian foods, can be time consuming.  As a mother of three (with an extra love to care for on Thursdays), time is not something in great abundance at the Price home these days.  Anyhow, since I’ve taken pause I realize that my letter complaining of three B and D appliances would only be somewhat relieving to me and wouldn’t benefit anyone else, and so (eliminating all the clever things I thought) the moral of the story …  save a little longer and spring for Kitchen Aid appliances.  My Kitchen Aid mixer has never failed me.

Today has been one of those days where I’ve allowed myself to be frustrated, to not attempt to change my bad mood.  Why do I do that to myself and to those who I love?  I don’t know.  As I’ve said before, I can get overwhelmed with all I have to do and everything I’ve taken on as a responsibility.  Truth be told, many of the things I consider my responsibility are not.  Now as I sit and consider my mood, I am challenged to change it, refocusing my mind on the positive instead of the negative which is oft so much easier to find.

I have an amazing husband who isn’t afraid to ask me when I’m in these moods, as I’m expressing myself, making great use of my “gift”: “What are you hoping to accomplish here, Lindsey? What do you want the result of this conversation to be?”  I heard his voice in my mind while drafting the intangible aforementioned complaint letter.  Can your husband be your conscience? No.  But he knows the best and worst of me, and knows how I feel when I give way to words.

My gift is not a gift if used to gripe and complain.  This year I will challenge my words to creatively express the positive.

I want to be a peacemaker.  When the world seems to fall to chaos, especially in our little home, I want to be used to restore peace.  How often has the Lord redeemed the broken parts of me and restored me to himself?  Too many to recount.  I want to be his instrument to breathe peace into my children and to my husband.

I cannot expect my children to be miniature versions of myself.  Sometimes, they will choose to do wrong.  I am here to guide them, to teach them, to forgive them, and to move on with them even when the season is challenging.  Their choices do not always reflect my parenting, but sometimes they do reflect my mood and my words.  With that in mind I should behave in such a way that the best in them is encouraged to flourish and the worst of me be mirrored less and less in them.

It’s a new year, with new expectations and new promise.  Today, I choose to thrive in its newness, to explore new opportunities, to discover what really makes me tick, to delve into experiences with fervor, to cast aside behaviors that hinder me and my family from reaching our potential.  With this in mind, I am cognizant that “Tomorrow is always fresh, with no mistakes in it … yet.”  (Anne of Green Gables) Where there are mistakes, there is also forgiveness.

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