Day Eight of A Look into the Average Every Day Life of Keturah

Every Sabbath morning I sit up at some early hour, think Ah, it's Sabbath. I can sleep forever. 

Sometimes I only sleep for another half hour or so before realizing that part of my rest is finished. December 25th I slept until nearly 9:30. It was good, not the lazy sort of sleeping in. I jumped out of bed refreshed and my week of stresses and tears and labor behind me. I checked my first mouse trap and was so disappointed to see it empty I forgot to check the other until much later... it was full 😊 

I dressed and ate something, then ran in my houseslippers over the snow and ice to Mom's house. 

My siblings were cleaning the livingroom in preparation for a Spider-man marathon. "That way we understand all the little surprises they throw at us in the new movie. Gonna watch them with us?"

"I'll understand the movie well enough tomorrow," I said. No way I was going to spend the next ten hours watching movies. My heart sang to do something, to make beauty, to rest and relish. 

I found one of my handtowels on the countertop. Jesse took that as invitation to whip lash me and Jacob with another towel. I threw some things at his head then told Jacob, "Dunk his head in the snow. You can easily beat him."

Jacob said, "Yeah, I'll do something."

I wanted to ask Dad something but he was still sleeping. Mom was doing something, zoned out from the shenanigans. I went to watch Jonny and Bekah Jo's chess game. "Poorly set-up," I observe. I turn the castles on their head. I found a glass piece lying around, didn't match the plastic set they a played with. "Need a rook?" I place it in the middle. Bekah Jo throws it away, probably at Jesse's head. 

I go say hi to Joel, my two year old brother. He's in a little play pen with Jerushah's new puppies. He's trying to get one of them to lie in a small cradle, but it won't stay under the blanket. He jumps out and carries it around. I pick Joel up, place him on the counter and say, "Got anything to say?"

"Mom!" Joel shouts. 

Mom doesn't hear him, but I laugh at him. He's not like my other siblings who would have seen this as game opportunity to jump or grab something. I replace him on ground, and he takes my hand and shows me some stuff. 

Jonny, frustrated, picks up a puppy and holds it over the game. "Check mate," he says. 

"No," Bekah Jo says. 

He doesn't drop the puppy, but brings it away. Just as he does its bladder opens up over the game. Just a few drops. They laugh. 

It's mayem to be honest. I only stay for a few moments longer, then I take my towel and return to my own, peaceful house.

On my way home I realize, we didn't crack any jokes about it being Christmas. Usually we did. 

I think most of us older ones are tired of the argument, either side of it. We just want peace and unity. The little ones probably didn't even know it was Christmas.

I wave to my little sisters who are out biking, also completely uninterested in a marathon movie day. 

I played cello and violin for the rest of the morning, managing to scrape out a few tunes on both. Mostly I practice form. But I also allow myself to sound really bad. Not that I have a choice. 

When I have exhausted myself of that, I pick up my green blouse and begin to work magic, experimenting with new stitches I've found on Pinterest and Instagram. 

The flower was inspired, but is my own creation. I'm gonna cover the front and back, with foliage between. 

At first I considered not doing the back of the bodice. Then a friend told me that once, when clothing was truly art, the back of a garment was also detailed. But when store fronts came, so arrived the fashion of bodices being merely pretty from the front.

Yes, I want a 360 work of art, that speaks of all things whimsical and properly old-fashioned. It won't be that much more work. (It will be a lot more work.)

This stitch tutorial was in Spanish, so not sure what it's called. But it's some sort of twisted chain stitch. And I love the results. 

I made a hot lentil soup and baked some sourdough slices, then opened the egg nog from my brother and had a mug full, sitting at my little table alone, my heart ceaselessly praying, as it must do when I'm alone and quiet.

At some point I began filling up the tub. I put on a bentonite clay mask and read many chapters of Growth of the Soil. The mask felt lovely. My face went through a lot of rough moments this week. It really feels what my soul and my hands endure, and although I wash my face often, it needs this extra special treatment once or twice a week. 

(FYI, I'm not one of those girls with twenty bottles of lotions. I have one. It is the only creme that doesn't cause my face to break out, rather my face glows and my scarring is fainter. It's THM's orange silk lotion or their rose facial creme.)

I bathed and put on a clean linen dress and felt content to be alive. I read over the heater vent for a while longer, wearing some of my hand knitted socks.

At last it was dark and I felt anxious to move about. 

I'd considered walking when the sun shone bright, but it was a very windy day and the snow was mostly solid ice out. Not a real excuse as I've gone out in much worse. I just wanted a cozy day inside, I suppose.

First I ran back over to Mom's. I asked Dad my question and received a satisfactory answer and inevitable lecture, and then I found Jesse, "I'll go to your church with you tomorrow."

I'd been hearing about some new friends he'd made. I naturally must meet them. He said he wasn't going, he must work.

"Then I'll go by myself."

He looked at me quizzically. "What will you say to embarrass me?"

"Nothing. Just, I'm Jesse's sister, Keturah. And I am a prophet." 

Laughter. But we agree to go, several of us, together.

The Sabbath now over I whizzed through the house, cleaned up the laundry room and put a load in the washer. I told my sister, "There's chocolate on the counter. You can have it if you wash up the dishes and clean the surfaces." 

So she did that, little more than ten minutes of work. 

I cleaned my room and straightened up the couches. I considered writing a poem about math and romance. Instead I drafted this goofy tweet.

I continued cleaning up things, thinking about different thoughts that fascinate or bother me. What it means to have a career and not want it. What it means to be a woman. How lovely it is to feel certain ways. 

I read some more. I thought of writing. But I was too caught up in the moments of now, yesterday, and tomorrow. Of ideas that didn't matter, of beliefs that remain true because of hope and intuition and rightness. 

It wasn't necessarily a pleasant evening. Hard thoughts aren't always easy for the heart. But they are good, just as good as the mindless sounds of thick, white floss pulling through rough wool. 

So, I put my phone and broom and thoughts away, some of them in a journal, I covered my eyes in castor oil, and dampened the end of my braid with castor oil, and I went to sleep.

I dreamt of music and fine art and good people, with a subtle but strong amount of math. 

"If only we were so..." 

It was a good Christmas day, even for those of us who don't celebrate quite like the rest of the world. There was music and joy and bantering and tears and heartache and struggles and victories for us and you all alike. 

This is the end of a series requested by Melissa to share what my life looks the week leading up to Christmas. 

Thank you everyone, for reading and enjoying this challenge with me. And thank you, Melissa for encouraging me to do this. It has helped me remember how much I enjoy every-day living.