On Living: An Open Letter to Neighbors and Visitors

I haven't been in the mood to do a lot of blogging lately. The husband has been in and out of the hospital for the last month, and life has been a blur. However, with this most recent hospitalization and subsequent discharge, this post started rolling around in my head. Time to put it on paper.

Dear Neighbors, and Visitors to our Home;

I know. I know that you probably notice. Sometimes we don't bring in our garbage cans right on time. Sometimes our yard isn't the best-kept on the block. When our door is open during the day, you probably see inside our often disheveled home. I'm sure you see our garage, which is home to mostly toys and lawn care tools, a play-place more often than anything else. We don't get outside and wash our cars very often (okay, maybe never). You've never seen us repainting our garage door, or power-washing. Our house looks lived-in, for lack of a better word. I see what it looks like. Sometimes I see it through your eyes, instead of my own. Sometimes I'm embarrassed that we don't "keep up with the Joneses", despite actually BEING the Joneses. And then, life happens, and I realize that our choices and priorities are right for us.

See, if you see us outside, you see that instead of perfecting our lawn, we are playing with our kids. Instead of washing cars, we're painting sidewalks, or playing in sand, or taking wagon walks. Instead of reorganizing the garage, which desperately needs reorganization, we're in there playing kitchen, or gas station while the kids ride their tricycles.

The same goes for the inside of our house. Instead of constantly picking up, keeping things looking nice on the surface, we are really LIVING in here.  We're pretending that we are sea turtles, wearing Trader Joe's paper bags on our backs for shells.  We're Anna and Elsa, slipping on the ice, trying to make a fire to keep warm. Instead of doing laundry, which sometimes piles up, we choose to spend our weekends LIVING. That means getting outside as much as possible, and making happy memories inside when the weather insists.

Life is fragile. A year ago, Marty almost died.  Four weeks ago, he became seriously ill again. We are guaranteed nothing in life--not one day, not one more minute. I've come to understand this more than ever. We aren't choosing to live negatively here; we are just dedicated to living. Sometimes that means choosing to do something fun over some type of chore. The chores? They can always wait. The memories? Who knows how long we have to make them.

So...when you see our messy garage, or our meager yard, or toys scattered throughout our house, what you are looking at is a family committed to living and making the most of our time. We aren't lazy or neglectful; we get things done when they're necessary. We just choose to spend our time differently.

Make each and every moment count.
With Love and LIFE,
The Joneses