A Weekend in Charleston

It’s Sunday night as I write.  The girls have their cousin sleeping over and they’re hidden away in their rooms, probably in my clothes and putting on makeup.  Scott is away at a men’s evening at the church.  The dogs, including my parent’s who are out of town, are laid in their preferred spots across the living room.  My sewing machine is waiting on me in the dining room.  I finally pulled out the pieces to finish Emma’s T-shirt quilt this afternoon and if my machine would actually cooperate, I’m determined to finish.

 

We spent the weekend with our friends in Charleston. You might remember them from this post On Community.  I’m feeling that same, filled-up, rested satisfaction and peace after taking a few days away from the regular routine and spending time with generous friends.

 

I read this book while we were there by Joyce Meyer called Eat the Cookie, Buy the Shoes: Giving Yourself Permission to Lighten Up.  It’s a book for people that have forgotten to enjoy the little things in life.  The people who live to check items off the checklist, to get things done.  The people who may be taking life a little too seriously and have a tendency to lose their joy. They’re do-ers not be-ers.  People like me. 

She encouraged readers to celebrate you, your progress and your hard work and kick the guilt to the curb.

 

And so, as I read this in Charleston, I practiced the discipline of celebration.  I said yes when Emma wanted to go get pedicures (our first together and my first in years). I said yes when dessert was suggested for dinner and I said yes when the girls wanted to play dominos and when they wanted to build sand castles and I said yes when he asked if I wanted ice cream on that dessert.  I clapped when we drove over our county line on the way home because we’d successfully navigated the weekend.  It was a weekend of celebrating months of hard work both professionally and personally.

 

One of my favorite stories from the weekend is driving back, sandy and dirty from the beach, and deciding we needed to go to King of Pops.  No one was really sure where the place was and so, after looking on their Facebook page, we drove to the address in North Charleston. 

We ended up in a part of town they are trying to revive, on a tiny main street of sorts.  We circled the block but didn’t see a storefront.  We did see a building in the back with some monster graffiti on the wall and our friends felt like that must be their warehouse or office as it was similar to their Charlotte location, but we could never find a storefront. 

We called the number on their page and happened to get someone.  He said their retail store wasn’t opened yet and they only had carts out on locations, but he happened to be in the warehouse where we were and we could just come right there and buy them directly from him.  So, that’s what we did! We went in a big room full of freezers of popsicles.  Scott even had the perfect amount of cash to buy our popsicles.  We got chocolate sea salt, blueberry lemongrass, key lime pie, and Oreo cheesecake.  All homemade—even the Oreos!  They were DEE-LISH.

 

We were driving away with our melting popsicles and it was just one of those moments that felt God-ordained. I don’t know if God ordains popsicle moments, but I know I was looking for moments to celebrate over the weekend and as we were driving home, all smiling and sharing the happiness over stumbling upon the warehouse and the yumminess of the popsicles, it truly felt like a moment that was supposed to happen.

And so, here I am back on Sunday night and I’m trying to continue to celebrate in little ways—to let go of the weight of the to-do list a little.  My sewing machine is waiting on me and I plan to enjoy the rest of what is left of this weekend.  Monday morning will be here before I know it and who knows, maybe I’ll celebrate finishing this post!