Sometimes I Like to Curl Up In A Ball

The girls have a book called “Sometimes I Like to Curl Up In A Ball.”  It is about a cute, little wombat at bedtime.

But that is how I have been feeling.  Apparently my response to feeling behind and watching my to-do list grow longer is to want to curl up in the fetal position on the couch but I am not a cute, baby wombat. 

Go away mountains of laundry.

Go away stacks of dishes.

Go away broken dishwasher.

Go away stack of bills.

Oh, but wait, I remind myself as I wade through a dirty kitchen, billions of women have washed dishes by hand their whole lives.  In fact, millions don’t even know what a dishwasher is.

I start trying to focus on others.  It’s not about me. Another thought.  They estimate there are nearly 27 million slaves worldwide.  More than there have ever been.  According to best guesses, at least half of them are children.  13.5 million child slaves. 

I start to sing “Count Your Many Blessings” as I fill up the sink.  I have to sing loud because there are two crying babies at the safety gate. I look over and smile.  More blessings, currently loud and whiny ones.

Many times kids that become child slaves are the vulnerable children, with no one to advocate for them.  Other times, parents put their children in slavery because they think it is better than the child starving with them.

And I almost throw in the towel over a messy house. 

Three of my favorite blessings: