That one day, when you had more time than you a knew what to do with. Remember how that felt?
You were over the moon with the thought of so much open time in your day and just couldn’t breath it in deeply enough. What? This hasn’t happened in years? Or ever?
Not to fret it hasn’t happened to me either – at least not the deeply breathing it in part!
As moms, women in this decade and just people, we are generally go go go wishing we had more time. Then, when time presents itself (however rare) we find a way to fill it with something that just HAS to be done RIGHT NOW and we go on wishing for more time. We may grumble or complain in a passing conversation to a girlfriend OR we wear a gracious face about our crazy lives but we all know what we are REALLY thinking.
I had that day.
One thing about being in transition is that it can be slow. Some things just take time. My transition is taking time.
I woke up, sent kids off to school (rather peacefully and calmly I might add!), had a cup of coffee and stared at the wall. 8:28am.
Now what? Laundry and dishes are done, I’ve spent some time in reflection this morning, my girls are reading books not interested in my attention at the moment…oh sweet joy…or not.
Sitting in the midst of all the peace that defined my morning, the beauty of a family rhythm that had taken place and all I could do was whine.
Not to anyone in particular but my inner dialogue was spinning. Now what? I’m bored. I don’t have anything to do. I wonder if every other mom feels this way? This isn’t very fun. What should I do? And so on…
Could I sound anymore like my 1st grade son when he realizes it’s Saturday and we don’t have any plans?
Again, what a poor reflection of the state of my heart this particular day!
For weeks I have been praying for just one school morning without drama. For days I have just wanted to sit and breath with no heavy expectations resting on my shoulders. For hours I have just wanted to appreciate all that is happening around me.
And now, now that I have the chance, I’m a whiner.
If I ever thought the children of Israel were just weak and ungrateful for all God had done for them I should just look in the mirror. I am that woman sometimes.
I am just like the Israelites wandering in the desert. I beg for peace and mercy and am provided with it, yet I still complain. I don’t bother to pray for rest, even though it sounds nice, yet God sees to it that I get the rest I need and then some and I struggle to take advantage of it.
Love appears. In the midst of my whining I am overtaken with calm. It is the moment that the few believed and God took them into the Promised Land. It is my moment to take a deep breath and feel the refreshment from the tips of my toes to the top of my being. And we begin again.
Israel becomes a great and powerful nation. I become a joy filled child of God.
Israel sees miracles. My miracles are sitting right next to me giggling over a book that moos.
Israel falls. I will fail again.
God redeems Israel. I am given new life.
One more day, in the grip of grace.