The remnants of our dinner table probably don't mean much to you, and I'm well aware that if I left those fries sitting out for the next year they probably would look exactly the same. (I know these things because our family time capsule, The Minivan, has preserved several beyond their typical shelf life in the past year or so.)
But, I slyly snapped this picture as we were finishing up tonight because it symbolized so much more than the quick meal that it was, grabbed by B and Becks on their way home from guitar lessons tonight. (He's started a band. It's called Wikkid Vömit. It is awesome.)
Something about it seemed so completely normal.
Because normal, busy families compromise their dietary values for a value meal at Mickey D's when life got too busy that day to thaw chicken or click through Pinterest for something healthy. They sit around their dinner table with their little ones, opening cardboard clamshells and spilling fries into their compartments. They look at the lids to fountain sodas to determine which beverage belongs to who based on which button is pushed down to indicate diet. They peel cheap toys from plastic wrapping and serve bites of french fry to the baby. Normal family stuff.
So many days, even weeks, have felt very, very far from normal lately. Even a year after I wrote this post, I still don't feel the steady equilibrium that I felt before parenting a kiddo with a chronic illness.
In fact, the Abby that wrote posts before November 2013 isn't the same Abby that writes now.
I have a deeper understanding and appreciation for life. A wisdom that comes from knowing another world that is foreign to most. A strength and endurance I can only attribute to my Heavenly father. The wholeheartedly ability to admit that I cannot do this life on my own.
A greater love for the average, normal day.
(Thanks for the awesome new saying, neighbor!)
Happy Tuesday :)