Today was the first time this year that I was able to volunteer in the infant room at our church. We are on a quarterly rotation, so March is the first month we are up. Last week, I was sick as a dog, again, and I couldn’t get out of bed, let alone risk contaminating the young little babies of my germs. So today, I was back.
It is so refreshing to my soul to see the girls I serve with in the infant room. We can’t be anymore different, and yet, we have so many similarities and over the years, we have developed a bond thank I am so thankful for.
I am the oldest. They are younger, one is a professional for a large international very recognizable company. She travels the world and is very very good at her job. She has the kind of job that if I was younger and had any fashion sense whatsoever, I would be envious. She has an eye for it that I can never dream of having so I look to her for guidance in that department. The other is a stay at mom of 3 (including TWINS!!) and her husband is a very high ranking guy of another large international very recognizable company. The are both young, oh so very attractive, great kids and have the world at their feet. I feel like the old maid. That is until we got to know each other about 3 or 4 years ago.
I have to say I look forward to my “girl time” as I call it with them. We share. We vent. We cry. We cheer each other on. There is no judgement, only support and friendship. There is no envy, only congratulations and encouragement. It is a wonderful dynamic that we have. And even though we only have our “girl time” for a month each quarter, we catch up breathlessly and move easily through the month. By the end of the month, we are sad to see us go our separate ways, but we regroup, and reconnecting after a few months is something to look forward to.
I am also blessed this day to have a warm sunny day. Dusting off the running shoes and hitting the pavement for what I can only imagine to be a horrific run. It’s going to be slow and awkward and I’ll probably feel like I’m dying several times during the 3.4 miles, but it beats NOT going. What’s the saying? No matter how slow you go, you’re still lapping everyone on the couch. Or something like that. So I’ll keep telling myself that as I’m gasping for air and my legs are screaming at me.
I love having a routine. I’m good with routine. I don’t like how anyone who knows my routine calls me predictable. Like its a bad thing. Why can’t my routine be “reliable” or “dependable” or something like that.
So I’m happily falling into the routine of seeing my younger, hipper, cooler, more beautiful girls and the feeling of the sun on my skin while running and hopefully….spring really is around the corner.