Grace bats last

The brown paper bag with the wrinkly, forgotten plums from the organic farm is so discouragingly ‘you’, these days. Intention wilting into reality.

You want to be a healthy, ethical mum eating local produce with her glowing daughters.. the ones who ran sun-kissed through fields of buttercups and gravel paths last weekend.



This weekend? One member of the family is camping in the Mournes and the other 3 of you are tired, coughing, irritable. Plums are wilting untouched in the brown paper bag and all you really want is a coke and another slice of white toast. Too exhausted to go out and too fed-up to stay home, it feels like the script is already written for the long 2 days ahead. Grit your teeth, leave the butter out and think about revamping your life in the summer.


You cut your daughter an apple while she watches Curious George and this small thing feels good. You remember you love stewed plums and you keep chopping. You remember the leftover cooking apples turning brown in the cupboard, and you keep chopping.

It is a small victory, this bowl of stewed fruit and a glass of water, but it starts to turn your day around. You are changing the script. Just a little.


Remember how your husband had to give the band at your wedding one instruction: Don’t play ‘Perfect Day’ Because you don’t believe in Perfect Days. Except, you still want them sometimes. And remember the second song they played? Perfect Day. And it didn’t matter.


You watched your beloved Anne Lamott yesterday (here) and it stuck in your head, that brilliant and true thing she says that Grace bats last.


You are grumpy and you had to cancel your plans, and how is it even possible to still have a cough? You are wallowing. You are chopping fruit and you remember there are much heavier burdens to bear.

You swore loudly at your children before it was even 9am this morning, but this does not have to define your day after all, grace bats last. But what about the stories on the news this past week? What about the burdens of your friends? What about illness and depression and old age and broken hearts and out-of-the-blue trauma? You chop. You choose to believe it for them, too. Grace bats last.


I think organic plums are supposed to be eaten fresh, but at least they got eaten.

I am reading ‘Notes from a Blue Bike: The Art of Living Intentionally in a Chaotic World’. I like it. I hope I make some changes in our life. But tonight, I curl up with my toast, proud it wasn’t the only food type I ate today.I am drawn to and wanting to and hoping to live more intentionally… but tonight I curl up resting in that familiar feeling that always gets me in the middle of the imperfection and the mess. What is it? It is more than just getting through to bedtime, somehow.

Over to you, grace.

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