...and I can't blame the head cold anymore, since that's almost better.
My brain is mush.
I have started 3 blog posts this week and been unable to finish them.
I have work to do on so many fronts.
Closets to organize.
Gifts to sew.
I'm rewriting all of the content for the charis project website, which is goiing to look so pretty with the new design to go with it.
I've got two writing submissions that are outlined and just need to be written sitting here staring at me.
Except that mostly I open up the files and stare at them blankly, unable to force myself to come up with words.
One of the more messy realities of adopting a person into your family is that their life becomes yours to a certain extent, their tragedies your tragedies, their crisis your crisis, and their triumphs, well, something that you rejoice in too. But those aren't things I will write about here, because they are not really my stories to tell, even though I live and participate in them.
Our adopted girl is in the middle of an epic crisis/tragedy, which began last Friday morning with the death of one of her biological parents.
I am really glad of the privilege of walking through this with her, where possible. My heart aches to do more than I am doing, as impossible as that is. I want to carry it all for her, to let her just be 19 and free to act her age and to take care everything for her. But I can't. I'm really proud of her for the way she is dealing with the mountain of things to attend to. She's more adult than many adults I've met. Cue more heart aching.
And maybe, just maybe, that's why I continue to stare at my work and find it difficult to focus. Not because I'm overwhelmed, but because she is occupying so much of my waking thought that everything else seems too insignificant to try and write about at present.
I have a feeling that's how it should be.