Last week, I celebrated my 37th birthday. My nieces made me these super special cards:
Tim and the kids made me feel incredibly special over the span of several days. And though I cherish the beautiful flowers, jewelry, desserts, and gifts they treated me to, I keep thinking about a line my mom wrote in my card.
“…you have mellowed.”
Whoa. That is a word that has never been associated with me in my entire life.
Even today, over a week later, I found myself reflecting on these words. I reflected on these words as I tried to straighten a pile of papers on the kitchen counter that, despite my best effort, never seem to disappear. I contemplated mellowness when I spotted smeared poop on the kids’ toilet seat and was too exhausted/over it to wipe it up. I wondered if it was being mellow that caused me not to freak out about walking on crumbs on the kitchen floor despite daily sweepings. I craved mellowness when Tim and I stripped the bed at 6am because Yoseph spit up medicine in his stubborn refusal to swallow it because it didn’t taste like bubble gum. I assume it is this newly found mellowness that kept me from a breakdown when the entire day’s plan was derailed by a 6 year old who couldn’t decide if his stomach hurt for real and a stepmom who wasn’t willing to risk it.
I know that by any definition, I will never be flexible or laid-back. But reflecting on my mom’s word–on her compliment–I realized that I am more mellow than I was. I ran a super tight ship as a single woman who lived alone and answered to no one. And, truth be told, I still run a pretty tight ship and I am blessed, BLESSED beyond measure to have a husband who embraces this about me instead of fighting it. And due to his grace, unconditional love, and flexibility and the grace of God, I’m learning to soften, to deal better with the unexpected, and dare I say, to become more mellow.