Tonight I prepped Kale. Three massive bunches of kale. I took my sharp knife, folded the long leafy green and sliced along the pale vertebral stem. I did it a hundred times. Leaf after leaf.
What I wanted was to order pizza.
Because my car was in the shop and because I hadn’t been the self I wanted to be in heated conversations with friends and because even before eight in the morning I’d already cried buckets with a hurting human I can’t bear to see sad. Also, because I was (a little bit) loathing myself.
So at seven, tired from a workout I hadn’t wanted, starving, and aching for a distraction, I fantasized about a gluten-free personal pepperoni pizza.
But prepped kale.
So sick of making stupid mistakes all day, I wanted to do something (anything) right.
In the moment, kale seemed right. Good. The choice I would be happy to have made tomorrow. The pro-abundant-life choice.
After I prepped kale, my husband cooked and I washed dishes. Then I talked to my girls about before they were born and London asked great questions and we pulled out my pregnancy journal and I read and we all laughed. Then I made a bed for the two of them in their tent and read them a story about Abraham Lincoln and prayed the Lord’s Prayer with them and blessed them.
And I climbed into bed and wrote this.
All because I prepped kale.
See, the night was doomed before it began. The day was too long and too full of mistakes. Mistakes and heartaches. And I had every “right” to give up, grab a slice (or six) and watch three episodes of Parks and Rec. I could make good choices tomorrow.
But if I’d done that, if I’d given up on the kale and called Domino’s, I never would have made it to the journal and my laughing girls and special memories in a tent with Lincoln.
Sometimes all we need is one good choice to get us back on track. Sometimes one solid, wise, life-valuing decision is all it takes to turn an entire day around.
Make one good choice. And see where it leads.