Do you ever feel like you just pick up other people's socks? What is it with socks anyway? There are socks all over my house. In the hamper? Yes! On the floor? Yes! In the car? Yes! On my kitchen counter? Yes!....Wait! What?!....Yes! Yes, I picked up an athletic sock off of my kitchen counter this morning. Granted, it was used to wrap an ice pack and not a foot, but still, right? It's at points like these that I think, "what in the world is going on?" And then I think, "what else do you expect? hasn't it been this way since you got married?" And isn't insanity doing the same thing over and over while expecting a different result?
In the midst of the socks there is a lot of change going on in my life and while it might be dysfunctional and weird, the stability and predictability of knowing that I will come home or wake up and have to pick up at least three pairs of socks from random places makes me smile. Because I can also know and predict that the boys that stand on the extra wide feet that those socks belong to, whether large or small, love me despite the change and that just makes me feel content, for the moment! Which is a lovely gift from God in the middle of all my internal clashings.