“It’s called living.”
This is the phrase I have said a few times when people have made comments about my schedule over the past few months. From an outsider’s perspective I guess I must look very busy. In reality …to me, I am just doing those things that need to be done. I work caring for people, not in the medical field or anything that would allow me to put a string of initials at the end of my name, but at the end of the day I have made an effort to show people that someone cares about them. I do this as much for me as I do it for them but ultimately I do it for God. He gave me a great Gift many years ago and I know that I do not have to do ANYTHING and that Gift is still mine and I cherish It. I am not trying to earn It because I know that I can’t. I simply want to show Him that I am grateful and trying to live my life as an expression of gratitude for that Gift. Loving God is my top priority. Learning how to do that is an unending 101 course.
However, there are times that I can overextend myself. We all can. Looking back over the past several weeks I realize that if I looked at what I have been doing I would think me crazy. Part of my life is being a wife; this is a GREAT part that I don’t spend enough time enjoying. It is always the stuff you enjoy doing that seems to get pushed aside…actually, that might just be me. Part of my life is being a mom and that responsibility is awesome and tiring at the same time, there is something about this part of my life that scares me. A horrible fear of failure and yet, I realize that there is no real way to guarantee success. No matter what I do, the children I raise are going to succeed or fail on their own terms in their own time. I may try too hard to plant seeds. I may have started planting seeds later than I should have. I was never good with plants. I have a black thumb and I don’t know ANYTHING about plants and so maybe I should not compare wisdom and values to seeds and my children. Parenting is hard.
Part of my life is …everything else and that is where all the BUSY seem to enter.
I think I am finally to the point of this post. I woke up today at 7:45am (I slept in!) and took a bath while reading a book. Then while Dave still slept and the house was quiet, I made a cup of coffee and sat on the front porch and read some more. The neighborhood was quiet for a change these days. (Everyone else was REALLY sleeping in) and my mind wandered in and out of the book between its pages and those of my own life the last few weeks and I realized that I was sad.
I lost my dog a couple weeks ago, and yesterday the vet sent us a sympathy card and I was okay reading the cover but when I opened it and saw the signature of EVERY staff member and doctor it brought forth tears… that I immediately stuffed down. I turned 40 this year and when my husband threw a surprise party for me (2 days after we had to put the dog down) and when everyone yelled “SURPRISE!” I really was and I turned into his chest because I started to cry (I don’t know why – yet) I stuffed those tears down really fast as well. Then while enjoying a couple days away camping I found some peace being away from these walls of our home and it was interrupted by tragedy. My oldest child’s father was likely dying, and eventually did. I don’t feel loss over this so much as just sadness. He was young and his life could have been MORE. My daughter deserved for him to be there longer, but then I think that my children deserve a lot of things that maybe just aren’t realistic. “It’s called living.”
Moments ago, my neighborhood woke up and the cars with the loud music started passing by and interrupted my self-realization time and I did not want to forget this moment: A moment when I appreciated the fact that my husband was sleeping and adorable in bed and my children were safe and happy with their friends and I had time alone with my thoughts.