|One less thing on my to-do list, and I wish I could add it back: Kimo's leash and poop baggies hanging by the front door ready for her twice daily walk. We've yet to get around to putting it away.|
Everywhere I look I'm reminded of the things I no longer have to do, the time I don't have put in, the money I don't have to spend. And it saddens me. As I've meditated on how much easier my life is without Kimo, I've come to the realization that inconvenience is actually a blessing. Think about it for a moment, think of all the things that inconvenience you and think about how many of them are tied to the people you love most. After all, a life totally organized around my ease and desires, a life completely devoid of inconvenience is a life that must necessarily be lonely. People (and pets) disrupt the flow. They place demands on us. They ruin the schedule, mess up the house, drain the budget. But the alternative is pretty bleak, isn't it?
So when Ezra starts fussing just as I'm about to sit down to work on my blog; when Elijah keeps pestering me to play right when I'm trying to finish those grades or calls out "Daaaaaaaaaddy" early in the morning when I'd rather sleep in; when Babs wants to talk when I want to surf the internet; when my student wants help with his math during my precious lunch hour when I'm trying to "get some work done" my goal is to rejoice . I'm not there yet, but I want to get to the place that I rejoice in interruptions, am grateful to have my hands full, and give thanks for the blessing of inconvenience.
The last thing I felt like doing was going out on bitterly cold Sunday afternoon last weekend so that Elijah could run around and get his energy out. But if I hadn't been so inconvenienced I wouldn't have captured these special memories:
|Lying on the grass. . .|
|. . . looking up at the blue, blue sky|
|This little guy. . .always worth the "inconvenience." Always.|