I got my Christmas tree and decorations down a week sooner than I had planned. I had time and it just seemed like I felt a need to get back to normal. One of my favorite things is settling down and getting back to some sort of routine. I also want my house to reflect this peace by having things where they belong. But then I got to thinking, what is truly normal?
When the doctors had diagnosed me with the recent illness, all I wanted was for all of my cells, organs, and body parts to be normal. I didn't look for greatness or anything special, just healthy.
When I see my grandson, he is healthy, does things pretty much on schedule and looks like the 18 month old baby that he is. But I wouldn't use the word normal to describe him. Why? Because he is extraordinary. He does things I haven't seen a baby do before. He makes me laugh at his antics and he melts my heart with his looks. When he was born he was declared normal and we all rejoiced, but oh, he is not normal. He is just so far above that. At a playgroup, other children are doing funny things you would not expect. Are they not normal, too? Perhaps every child, and my Ty tops my list right now, is somehow way above normal.
Before I even got through packing boxes away, I decided to leave out some snowmen, just because they are cute. I recently added a few valentine things a bit early since the big day comes so soon in February. My "normal" didn't last long, did it? It doesn't really matter. The things I left up or added are cheerful. The rest of the house is rid up and I am content.
I love words. Words mean something. But what does "normal" truly mean?