Of late, I have had wont to consider the classics whilst I fill my days in respite from my paid labours. And indeed, one accomplishment has already become my treasure—Jane Eyre.

My repose was such this week that I had liberty to partake in the reading earlier than suspected. What began as a leisurely activity to bide away my idle time soon changed its course. After some engagement in the narrative, there persisted in me some strange madness, pressing me onward to take hold of the unknown future and compel the novel to reveal its enigmatic ending.

I was struck by fatigue on more than one occasion at such bewitching hours when the moon was high and one day turned unto another. Yet I crept forward in enchanting delight, lapping up the strange tale as a ravenous beast, no longer aware of what person or activity surrounded me.

As foretold by a confidante, the enrapturing effort ended satisfactorily. Disappointment was far from me, and a smile crept to my face as the last page turned.

Surprisingly, God's presence was felt throughout the journey, and His Mighty Spirit spoke to me through numerous passages. Truly, I am a joyous character to have undertaken this pursuit.

An hour from now it will be December 5. Which means it's the one year anniversary since my lung decided to spontaneously deflate on me. Hooray for a year of healthy breathing! That's something I took for granted until now.

Today I was listening to some David Crowder on my iPod, and I recalled how much those same songs meant to me when I spent time in the hospital. God used that time to provide me with needed rest and a renewed focus on Him. And as I read back to see how God used that time to answer some unspoken desires, I hope that I have allowed Him to infiltrate my year day in and day out, without allowing stress to build up so that it takes five days in the hospital to get me to stop and slow down!

Although I've had my moments and days, as we all do, I've had a great year. I've tried to be appreciative of how great I have life so that I don't take so many blessings, big and small, for granted. In the year's time, I look back and see friendships that have deepened, new friendships that have been made, and continual love and support by my family. Thanks to everyone who is a part of my life—thanks for bringing me smiles and being used by God to make my life better in ways you'll never know.

All in all, this is kind of like a belated Thanksgiving post. Or an early end-of-the-year wrap-up. But I find this particular day a little more meaningful to my year's experience and a bit more random! :)

Celebrate with me right now and take a deep breath in and out—and thank God that you can!

We had a few people over for dinner on Friday. I made my favorite dish: my grandmother's pot roast meatloaf. The one dish I'm the most confident about! Steve thought it might be yummy to have mashed potatoes with it. He said my mom's were always good, so if I followed her recipe, it'd be great.

Note of explanation: I haven't, during any of our 10 years of marriage, made mashed potatoes before. That is a sad state of existence, isn't it?! For a time my excuse was that we lived near Steve's parents, so we'd go over there for lunch on Sundays. His mom often made mashed potatoes, so I really didn't need to make them at home. But as for the other years, I have no real reason. We just don't purchase potatoes except periodically.

So for this, my first attempt, I was really focused. Steve and I (and even Kaelyn) had worked hard to clean the house. (It needed a good cleaning, and guests truly are the only motivation for that!) The house looked good. I wanted the meal to be perfect as well. But already there had been a mishap. When I opened the bag of carrots I had purchased just the day before, they were all soft and mushy—the exact OPPOSITE of qualities you want in carrots! YUCK! How could the grocery store sell these? I fumed.

You see the state of mind I was in. I found an alternative vegetable and proceeded to tackle the potatoes. I always forget until I begin using the thing that my mixer has no real SLOW speed. The lowest speed is pretty rapid. When I first turned it on, potatoes flew out everywhere! Sigh.

To be precise, I did more than sigh. I got frustrated. So Steve offered to help. "No!" I yelled. "I'll do it myself!" I may have said some other not-so-nice things too. Not cussing but not very sweet words either. In the process I made Steve angry (rightfully so) and I made Kaelyn cry.

All the turmoil happened because I wanted to do it myself. I wanted things to be perfect, and I wanted the honor of knowing that I made it all perfect ALL BY MYSELF! As I've mentioned before in this blog, that's a struggle of mine.

I was reminded of the folly in this thinking today when Kaelyn was attempting to put something together. "Do you want me to help you?" I asked. "No," she continued to reply. I watched her struggle, and I thought about how often I struggle against other people and God, whining like a toddler, "I can do it myself!"

During communion time on Sunday night, I admitted to God: "I don't like accepting your sacrifice. I just want you to know. I'd like to try and earn perfection on my own. But I know I can't. So I accept your gift, but it's hard for me to do." I figured I might as well be honest with someone who knows my thoughts anyway, right? I needed to admit it so that I'd be reminded of my struggle. And hopefully so I'll stop struggling and starting asking for the help I need.

So the mashed potatoes were made. And eaten. And enjoyed. But no part of the day could have happened without God or Steve or Kaelyn! I love all three of you! Thanks for loving me too.