Growing pains
when courage feels crappy
I’ve been doing that thing where I draft endless essays in my head. They usually seem profound or very stupid, but either way, the topics aren’t something I can easily sit down and write about.
Perhaps it’s just that change and transition often feels like a construction zone, and I’m halfway convinced I need a sign and some caution tape, delineating such.
“Pardon the mess, we’re under construction”
I wasn’t going to write today, except for that in one of those circumstances that are becoming all too common, our septic system is struggling. The laundry, cleaning and cooking I’d planned to be doing to prepare for hosting a post-baptism party are temporarily on hold while my saint of a husband re-routes some grey water1. Stripped of my ability to over prepare, I have a couple hours to write.
One idea that has kept floating to the surface over the last few weeks is the conceptualization of the large family as analogous to a small business. We’ve had experience with both, and in many ways ou…