Today is perfect.

Now all glory to God, who is able, 

through his mighty power at work within us, 

to accomplish infinitely more than we could ask or imagine.

Ephesians 3:20

.    .    .    .    .

There is a pile of jeans that need to be hemmed...two weeks ago. Summer has swooped down upon us in full, blistering fashion so I doubt these jeans will be worn for the next few months. Too late.

I haven't made the bed in a week. Just piles of blankets and pillows and sheets wrapped up together and knotted tight that we just shove to the floor again and again. Pish-posh.

The shower likes to fill up with water because the drain is clogged. Eep. Sorry, Hubster, you married a woman with lots of locks. And I have decided that our sandal-wearing feet are enjoying their daily soak.

There is...something...spilled at the bottom of the fridge that I haven't cleaned yet. I stare at it every time I open the door and sigh need to wipe that up. But we get busy and I forget. Woops.

The cardboard inside of an empty roll of toilet paper has been left on the holder two rolls too long. We've gotten used to setting the TP on the shelf. I'm pretty sure when I do refill the holder the good man will yell for me, asking for a new roll, the thought no longer occurring to him that there is a holder, and his wife has refilled it.

And I am joyful, pure and simple. Swimming in joy, joy bubbling up when I look at him in the car and the sun is setting just right and all I can see is his profile, he looks 20 again, and I feel 20 again. Twenty, before all this mess happened and barren became part of my vocabulary and my identity seized and beaten. Twenty, when it all was exactly as we expected it to be and the unexpected was exactly what we anticipated it would be. Twenty, alive and living, with the wisdom of the 28 year old me. And I smile and we laugh, hard -- cannot breath because it hurts laughter -- and it doesn't even occur to me that anything is missing.

We come home to a home well lived in and I make the cookies he loves. And we do nothing but watch our new favorite show together curled together with cookie crumbs and empty bowls of what was perfect, amazing chocolate fudge ice cream and I eat until I am full and the calories don't even occur to me.

Sometimes life is too perfect to worry about being perfect.

I know I need to hem and sew and cook and clean and scrub and plan and work and pick up and wipe up. And I do. But for right now, today, I fill up. Fill up on joy and laughter and that wonderful, fleeting, perfect, sunny feeling of complete.

Complete.
Satisfied.
Content.
Filled.
Un-empty.

I fill up because it dances around so lofty and lilt-y and if you are looking at the floor to scrub and the walls to wash and buried always in a pile of laundry you might miss the joy floating and singing and buzzing around.

Tomorrow we might be defeated. Tomorrow we might come face to face with the ugly unexpected. Tomorrow barren might by more than a vocab word. But today we are relishing the joy. Grabbing tight and letting it take us for a ride. The dishes can wait until tomorrow. The sad tears can always be shed tomorrow. Today...

It doesn't even occur to us that something is missing. 

Maybe nothing is.