Industrious

Names are a funny thing, really. They're really just a label, a title, a way to differentiate ourselves from others. Growing up, my mother told me that when I was born, "Emily" wasn't a very common name, and that their second choice for me was "Sarah." Well apparently a bunch of other people thought it was a good idea too, because when we moved to Bluffton there were two other girls my age named Emily, one of which shared the same birthday too!
When I was little, I was given an embroidered bookmark with my name at the top, and below, the meaning of my name: "Industrious." I remember asking my mom what that meant, amazed that my name could have any sort of meaning at all. After she explained it to me, I remember thinking about it, wondering if it was an accurate description, and if it wasn't, whether or not I should have been named Sarah after all.
Now thirty-one, and in my adult life, I'm realizing more and more how accurate that little bookmark was. The definition of Industrious, "Hardworking, persistent, diligent; working energetically and devotedly," is quite fitting. My closest friends know that I am a "List" person: I love writing lists just so that I can enjoy the satisfaction of crossing things off as I accomplish them. Most of my lists involve various projects I hope to finish around the house. In Nate's absence, I'm finding that the list seems much longer than normal, and growing, since I'm hoping to get more projects done before he gets home. But in the spirit of being industrious, I am checking things off it.
In all reality, I think I'm just adding to my "to do" list to keep myself busy, hoping to help the time pass by more quickly. Being alone has forced me to do everything on my own (I mean, if I don't do it, who will?): I've replaced the toilet seat, painted the doors on the house, scraped and re-painted the porch swing, landscaped, replaced windows, put together a toddler bed, installed mini-blinds, curtain tie-backs, an air conditioner,  and mounted a towel hook, among other things. It's not that I couldn't normally accomplish these tasks, but at least if Nate were home, he would be the one to do them. But since he's gone, I have no other choice but to "just do it."
Soon Nate will hopefully be able to come home after almost nine months of being away. It's been a learning experience for me, one that has made me realize just how much I can handle, how much I can accomplish on my own. I doubt my name has anything to do with it, but who I am as a person does. Has my name pre-destined me to be someone who is a relentless list maker and project do-er? I'm not sure, but I do know that nine months of taking out the trash is over-rated, and I'm more than happy to give that one up again, sooner rather than later.