The making of a good day.
"What does that mean?" My friend's question startled me. I stood, deer in headlights, wondering how many different ways my statement could have been interpretted. It's a good day. It means exactly what it says: it's a good day. What does she mean 'what does that mean?' I gave her some answer, I don't know what, but continued thinking about her question throughout the day. What makes a good day good?
The day before Zach and I went to the grocery store. This was after hitting the post office and dropping Isabel off at school and before preparing lunch. I strode through the produce focused, list in hand. By the time we reached the deli, Zach was hanging out of the cart, beginning to whine and begging to walk with me. The store was empty so I granted his request, but my task mode was not deterred. A fit was in the making.
Do you ever have lightbulb moments? Out of body experiences? I don't know what to call it, but every once in a while I receive a completely objective view of my situation. It's like life stops for just a moment to let me really see what's going on. There in front of the lobster tank, one of those moments hit me with an all-but-audible voice. "Why are you in such a hurry? What do you have to do that is so important?" I was rushing to get through the store so I could rush home to do what? Read a book? Laundry? Sit on the couch and wait another two hours until Isabel needed to come home? Play with Zach? I realized Zach was having a wonderful time in the store! He was noticing every package, pointing out letters he had learned and colors he loved. He ran his matchbox cars over the edges of shelving. He was being good and enjoying it, and all I wanted to do was get out of there so we could go home and do nothing near as fun.
I think we rush too much. Sometimes it's necessary, but most times it's not.
After tucking Isabel in for her nap, I prayed: "... God, please draw Isabel unto Yourself that she might know you personally ..." Isabel looked perplexed. "Mommy, what did you say to God?" I repeated the words of my prayer. "But, Mommy, what if God doesn't have paper and crayons?" I laughed and then drew her unto me in an embrace of explanation.
Zachary bonked his head on the side of his bed. I kissed a number of spots, not knowing which was ground zero. He quickly corrected me by pointing to the offended hairline. More kisses. Through his pacifier-muted mouth he begged: "More! More!" I kissed all over his head until giggles overflowed. "Thanks, Mom."
These are the moments we miss when we rush! I've struggled in the role of stay-at-home mom. I know this is what God wants me to do, but it's been a trial to acclimate my mind and my ambitions. My college roommate confidently pronounces her life as a stay-at-homer as "the most fulfilled she's ever been." I envy her. I'm restless. I'm bored. I'm frustrated. I am all these things when I am in a hurry. But when I slow down ... when I savor the moments rather than fly over them for the sake of the next activity, then my life can be described as nothing less than complete. She's right -- this is the most fulfilled I've ever been, when I stop to recognize it.
What makes a good day? Perspective. That's my answer. (Sarah, if you're reading this, take note! I don't know what I said on Monday, but this is my final answer. *grin*) If only I could have those out-of-body moments of clarity all the time! When I realize what's most important and let the rest go, it's a good day. When I understand the truth of God's love and let it flood my life, it's a good day. When I see miracles in the details ... well, days don't get any better than that.
Photo by Maurizio Pietropaolo
The day before Zach and I went to the grocery store. This was after hitting the post office and dropping Isabel off at school and before preparing lunch. I strode through the produce focused, list in hand. By the time we reached the deli, Zach was hanging out of the cart, beginning to whine and begging to walk with me. The store was empty so I granted his request, but my task mode was not deterred. A fit was in the making.
Do you ever have lightbulb moments? Out of body experiences? I don't know what to call it, but every once in a while I receive a completely objective view of my situation. It's like life stops for just a moment to let me really see what's going on. There in front of the lobster tank, one of those moments hit me with an all-but-audible voice. "Why are you in such a hurry? What do you have to do that is so important?" I was rushing to get through the store so I could rush home to do what? Read a book? Laundry? Sit on the couch and wait another two hours until Isabel needed to come home? Play with Zach? I realized Zach was having a wonderful time in the store! He was noticing every package, pointing out letters he had learned and colors he loved. He ran his matchbox cars over the edges of shelving. He was being good and enjoying it, and all I wanted to do was get out of there so we could go home and do nothing near as fun.
I think we rush too much. Sometimes it's necessary, but most times it's not.
After tucking Isabel in for her nap, I prayed: "... God, please draw Isabel unto Yourself that she might know you personally ..." Isabel looked perplexed. "Mommy, what did you say to God?" I repeated the words of my prayer. "But, Mommy, what if God doesn't have paper and crayons?" I laughed and then drew her unto me in an embrace of explanation.
Zachary bonked his head on the side of his bed. I kissed a number of spots, not knowing which was ground zero. He quickly corrected me by pointing to the offended hairline. More kisses. Through his pacifier-muted mouth he begged: "More! More!" I kissed all over his head until giggles overflowed. "Thanks, Mom."
These are the moments we miss when we rush! I've struggled in the role of stay-at-home mom. I know this is what God wants me to do, but it's been a trial to acclimate my mind and my ambitions. My college roommate confidently pronounces her life as a stay-at-homer as "the most fulfilled she's ever been." I envy her. I'm restless. I'm bored. I'm frustrated. I am all these things when I am in a hurry. But when I slow down ... when I savor the moments rather than fly over them for the sake of the next activity, then my life can be described as nothing less than complete. She's right -- this is the most fulfilled I've ever been, when I stop to recognize it.
What makes a good day? Perspective. That's my answer. (Sarah, if you're reading this, take note! I don't know what I said on Monday, but this is my final answer. *grin*) If only I could have those out-of-body moments of clarity all the time! When I realize what's most important and let the rest go, it's a good day. When I understand the truth of God's love and let it flood my life, it's a good day. When I see miracles in the details ... well, days don't get any better than that.
Photo by Maurizio Pietropaolo
Labels: details, perspective, time
5 Comments:
So true, Tanya. Many days I find myself counting the moments until I can "get something done," when in fact I should be enjoying the here and now with my daughter! Why is it so hard to do this? When I do accomplish it, we both enjoy our lives so much more.
I agree. I often am living in the future in a sense, trying to get the current thing accomplished so that I can move to the next. Often I am too hurried to notice and chuckle at my daughter's pleasure in the scent of newly washed laundry, or how fun it is to her to smear her yogurt on her highchair tray. Very good post that I can totally identify with.
'Miracles in the details', I like that Tanya. I hope many moms will experience what you experienced! Very well written blog post, I enjoyed it!
PS: tell Isabel that God has colors no one has ever dreamed of!
Wow, really great thoughts as usual. This is becoming one of my favorite blog stops.
Do you know I was a stay-at-home dad for awhile? (silly me, how could you know that?) Well, I was. Wife worked and I did the home stuff. It was the hardest thing I've ever done. Period. It wasn't physically hard, but it was emotionally very difficult. I wanted to value what I was doing, but as a man in our culture, I'm somehow not wired for that. So I made myself do the work and be the parent at home, but I never felt like I was getting work done. I'm sorry that I felt that way.
But it gives me great admiration for intelligent and capable women who give themselves to this most important calling. Good for you and God bless.
Good word, Tanya!
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