So every once in awhile I like to flip back through the blog archives. Just to see what I was up to, what I was writing about, what life was like. Because I guess it's just hard not to be bogged down in what's going on now and remember what life was like just 6 months ago, or a year ago, or two years ago. So it appears as though one of my favorite ways to punctuate a post would be by inserting "onward" here or there. I guess it made sense at the time, like I was ready for whatever was coming up next. Or that I eager to keep things moving and shaking. It just seems so foreign to me now. Not that I necessarily want to dwell where I am right now, not that I'm particularly happy or content with how things are at this moment, but there's this sense of utter anxiety at what's coming up that I just want things to sit still. And freeze. Just an extra moment to sing in the car, to climb just a little bit longer, to run around with Joshua and Bethany, to put together all those empty picture frames and paint those white walls. Or just to lay in bed with a good novel, or to actually think about life without this pressure to make that mean something by a certain deadline.

Why is it when I have the most to think about ahead of me, I accomplish the least?