Mothers

Leave it to my mom to give me jewelry that tangles easily.

I'm sitting at my now clean desk in my now clean room (except for the bags of trash that accumulated in the process) trapped in a cleaning frenzy. The jewelry box mom gave me last year full of trinkets she doesn't wear anymore caught my eye. So I opened up the little beaded black container and now, an hour later, I'm manically pulling delicate chains from earring wires from dangling stones from a wrist watch wrapped in a string of pearls. I don't even know how these things happen? I think there is a very tiny community of dancing fairies who's sole job is to create mayhem in places that are neglected.

Clearly the dust I've kicked up has gotten to my head.

All I know is that it was time to remove that uber-cheerful Beth Moore picture. And what a better motivator than mom's crazy jewelry that I'll probably never wear either. Especially since I know those crazy fairies will twist all of this meaningless untangling right back into a useless bejeweled ball of frustration.

But thank goodness for crazy mothers and their crazy jewelry and the messes they've helped create on our own journeys to craziness. I wouldn't trade it for anything, is the truth. So. There you go: A Declaration of Forgiveness.