Portland is drowning outside my window right now. It is the epitomie of grey and drizzly, as if grey and drizzly decided to be a superhero whose magic powers are to suck every single color out of every object and replace it with damp.

And it’s Sunday, which, as a Christian, traditionally means reinforcing those ideas and tenets by which I should be living my life. (I’m not a very good Christian, actually.)

So I was reading Eat, Pray, Love (and yes, Helena, it is all kinds of awesome) by Elizabeth Gilbert last night, and something one of the characters said stuck with me.

“It’s my job to love my children, not their job to love me.”

Which resonated with me on oh so many levels, especially as I struggle with my own private obstacle course of “life-without-naoto-with-girls”.

Let’s just say that it made me think about what kind of behaviors I should be expecting not only from the girls, but from me, as well.

And then, because its Sunday, and you know, sometimes I think a little more deeply than usual on this day, I was thinking.

“Wow, one could really extrapolate that statement and get the supposed fundamental tenet of Christianity.”

You know, “It’s my job to love my neighbor, not their job to love me.”

Good bye scape-goating, goodbye jealousy, goodbye “this is my right” attitude.

Let me work on it.