A New Normal

A few weeks ago, my mother-in-law asked me if I had put up a post lately. She wanted to make sure that she hadn't missed anything. 

And that single question confirmed what I'd been dreading for weeks: I'd become the blogger I feared I'd become.


Remember back in September (September 12th to be exact), when I'd tentatively written the first Indonesian blog post? The one where I mused:  


Do I tentatively start what might end up a train-wreck of a blog; one that started with great expectations and intentions, but quickly unravelled into an abyss of nothingness after a few hastily posted ramblings?

Well, here I am. Days shy of reaching the two month mark between posts. 


Quickly hastening down the train tracks leading to that place where expectations of blogger greatness are dashed to pieces by inattentiveness.


And I'm trying to understand why. 


Why I have let two months slip by without narrating - at least in pieces - the life that we're building. The experiences we're having. The joy and peace and contentedness that we're filled with.


I think it's all become too normal.


It's normal for us to look at an empty fridge and quickly order dinner delivered to the apartment in lieu of going to the grocery store or going out to eat.


It's normal for our house to be filled with three or four or more neighbor kids when I get home from work.


It's equally normal for our house to be perfectly silent when I get home from work because the kids have invaded a different house that afternoon.


It's normal for me to stop by the kindy playground during lunch to give kisses to either (or both) of the girls mid-school-day.


It's normal for Brandon to come into my class room and ask my students, "What's my name?" to which they reply "MR. AWESOME!"


It's normal to hop on the back of a neighbors motorbike sidesaddle with my purse, school bag, and oversized tote with that morning's cross-country gear for a ride home. 


It's normal for Ibu Minah to run to the grocery store at 5 PM - when I'm ears deep in valentines and cries of "play with me, Mommy!" - because I forgot the tomatoes for that night's dinner and Brandon's still not home from soccer practice. 

It's normal for Bailey and Boston to shoo Ibu Minah out of the kitchen because they want to wash dishes, put away placemats, and wipe down the kitchen table after dinner. 


In all of this, though, I pray that I have not become so calloused to these "mini" blessings (if there is such a thing) that I forget to be thankful. 


Thankful for the convenience of food delivery via three (possibly more?) different apps. 


For the noise that fills my house and the days when I can sit in silence.  


The fly-by moments when I can fill my girls' love tanks with high-fives and kisses blown down the hallway.  


The man who has made me Mrs. Awesome by association and his passion for all of the students, not just the ones on his roster. 


Friends that forgive my death grip on their shoulder as they dodge potholes, buses and other bikes on the roads that lead home. 


For Ibu Minah and her commitment to our family (and her reluctant acceptance of sub-par help from girls that are growing servant's hearts). 


God has richly blessed our family. Just as his mercies are new every morning, so is the bucket of blessings that he dumps on our lives daily.  


He is so good. Every day. And I live in hopeful expectation of the next blessing He sends our way.