This morning began like any other. I took Chloe to school. I got breakfast. I picked up some trash in my office parking lot, and I left to clean my first house. There was needed silence traveling to my second stop, and when I returned to the office I promptly left to see if two homes had been sold. They had not, so I got some gas and had lunch. I jumped on the interstate to go do some Xmas shopping, and when I was done there I headed to pick Chloe up.
We came home, and I forced myself to do some laundry, but then I laid down on the sofa to rest before Carey got home. When Carey got home she started cooking tacos, and we sat down to dinner.
Some of my best epiphanatic thoughts happen when I do the dishes. Tonight was no exception. I really do like to clean. It’s a love/hate relationship really. I hated contemplating doing the dishes as I sat finishing my tacos, but like all the other plethora of times I entered a “zone” of think tank thinking as I went through the motions.
I visualized the two houses I drove by in Belle Meade. Who are we kidding? They are not houses. They are estates. I’d call them mansions, and they are, but estate is more descriptive. I went through the same thought process I do frequently on evening like this as I do the dishes, but it must have been the tunes of Norah Jones wafting over the Alexa device. I don’t know. It could have been the Holy Spirit. It was probably both. It never ceases to amaze me the way the Spirit can move through any medium into my hard heart.
Obviously the dishes were finished. Well, I can hear our Kitchen Aid dishwasher working in there right now, but you get my point. My evening protocol is like a Seinfeld episode. I go shave, brush my teeth and shower. Yes Dr. Huey, I floss too. Occasionally I’ll light a candle when I’m feeling especially burdened, and I did that tonight. I carried it into the bedroom to dress for bed, and I kept it lit while I adjusted the sheets for a turn-down.
This whole daily scenario made me think about reading and writing. I could have easily laid down with one of the three books I’m reading right now, but sometimes epiphanies come when I write, and they are a more indelible memory when I do write them rather than try to store them between my two ears.
Thoughts come, but you do not have to accept it.
You are more powerful in the light of truth than you realize. There are a thousand messages that ring in your mind, but that means there are a thousand rebuttals you can exercise.
Do it. Delete it. Shut it down.
Routine can be a great equalizer. Don’t fight it.
Routine made Seinfeld millions. God works through the boring and mundane, and if we are constantly looking for the next big thing we can miss those epiphanatic moments.
Rest is vital. Don’t fight it either. You’ll be more creative, and you’ll be able to silence the hate.
Sleep is underrated in our society. Burning the candle at both ends is not a status symbol. It’s stupid. It’s like working sixteen hour days seven days a week, but when are you going to spend the money you make? When do you enjoy life? When are you clear headed enough to see the forrest for the trees? You never are. Sleep is vital. Don’t fight it. I don’t care how jealous you are of your sister who has a bigger house. If the grass is greener on the other side it means the water bill is higher.
These epiphanies will help you in your journey. They aren’t life altering watersheds, but they will empower you to power through tough situations or seasons.
I’d love to keep writing, but I’m going to go retire in bed with a good book before this Trileptal kicks in. I already feel it coming.
Grace and peace beloved.