When I delivered a plate of goodies to a neighbour at Christmastime, she told me that I was “so together”. From one woman to another, this is considered a great compliment.
The woman who paid me this compliment was the same neighbour who probably saw me through my kitchen window in the morning with my curls askew, chasing my toddler (who can run faster than me) down the sidewalk, bending over in my garden (shudder), or yelling at my older children to get their helmets ON or their bikes OFF the road—none of which, I assure you, were done in a dignified manner.
Yet, since I brought her goodies, suddenly I was “together”. How kind, I thought. How forgiving.
Let me tell you something about this “together” woman. She keeps Kraft dinner and frozen pizza on hand for when she doesn’t feel like cooking. Sometimes she gets busy and forgets to get dressed in the morning. Occasionally she lets her children watch several kids’ movies consecutively so that she can have some quiet time. And if you were to remove her couch cushions, you might be surprised.
Now my neighbour, she is one together woman. Perfectly groomed, her house and yard impeccable, her kids equally clean and combed, wearing the latest fashions and enrolled in all sorts of sports and lessons. How does she do it? Or does she? Could it be that there are crumbs under her cushions and macaroni in her cupboards too?
For me, being “together” means that I occasionally luck out and manage to be organized enough to appear competent for a few minutes.
It’s a nice thought, this being a “together” woman. Maybe somebody somewhere someday will manage to accomplish it.
In the meantime, I hope that I am “together” enough to take good care of my family, reach out to those in need, and have a clear conscience at the end of the day.
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