Spotlight.

Today I forgot to wear socks to work.

Also, I’m wearing a Garfield Band-Aid on my finger.

The first, I can’t explain. The second, I can.

You see, we got this nice set of kitchen knives as a wedding gift. They’re really nice knives. Really sharp, nice knives.

So I have about six cuts on my fingers, either from being a fool while I’m using the knives or being a fool while I’m washing the knives.

I’m so not competent enough to be trying to manage a household, regardless of how small.

Meanwhile, though, I think Eric and I are really enjoying playing house. We’re finally settled enough that we’re not building and/or reorganizing something every day, and we’ve even got a bit of a routine.

My favorite part is dinner.

When I wanted to get a focused quiet time in Sudan—when I really needed time with the Lord, without distractions—I’d force myself up at four, make my bed so I couldn’t get back in it and light just the lamp on my desk, so I couldn’t see anything but my Bible. It really seemed to work; it was a lot easier when I couldn’t see anything else, to not think of anything else. I had some of my best times in the Word in that little patch of light in that little mud house.

We’ve been living in a whirlwind since we got married, so—for whatever reason—I decided to try to apply the single-lamp idea to dinner. We’ve got this hideous light fixture thingie that hangs over our table, and we turn everything off except it when we sit together to eat.

It’s nice when everything else fades away and we can just talk and enjoy one another. I love when dinner stretches out longer and longer, and we get to know each other more and more.

And when we do turn back on the rest of the lights, things are easier to see… in a new light.

That is, until I put a new slice in my finger. And then I go back to wondering how I’m ever going to be a decent housewife.