Our family had a busy Sunday. Our oldest daughter had a rock concert through her local School of Rock. They had an awesome show and she had her best show yet! We were on our way home when our son started complaining of a headache and a sore throat. I had a mean mom moment and told him he couldn't have a sick day since I had to go into work the next day.
The Human Experience. We are all a part of it. We all want to be involved, make a difference, do something that matters, be recognized, and sometimes do nothing. You can choose to sit idly by or get up and get something done, but none of that really matters when you look at humanity across the globe and across time. To me, the human experience isn't what we do. It is in who we are and how we connect with others. It's in the vulnerable moments that keep us honest and open to each other. Being vulnerable is open to interpretation. In one form, it means putting yourself out there in a way that could draw criticism or a divide between you and a good friend, your lover, close social circles and even across social media.
If you walk into my house, you'll be greeted by a cheerful entryway and a clean and tidy front room and dining room. However, if one were to gaze past the comfy couch, you would find my mess. It's not always like this, but about every three months or so life just seems to "pile-up" in the form of papers, unfinished projects, art supplies, books, teaching materials, bills and receipts to file, notes, my kids' school papers, old to-do lists, and remnants of unfinished plans, and more. Here it is, in all it's ugly and messy glory...
no happy accidents 