Clearer Vision on an Ordinary Night

I did not expect it to happen this way.  And to be honest, I am a little embarrassed.  Maybe being a mom may offer me some sort of pass but that's no excuse for finding myself overwhelmed by a sudden realization that literally brought me to tears.  In public.

Thank goodness for sunglasses.

It began as an ordinary day.  The kids were all at school while I spent the day writing and answering speaker requests.  I made dinner early and packed snacks to bring to the high school soccer game I would attend that afternoon and evening.

Normal. Normal. Normal.

I made it to the games with plenty of time to settle in and chat with the other soccer parents who had gotten there before me.  The JV team took the field and battled through a great game.  It was a gorgeous day. Seriously.  We are in the midst of a week or two of perfect weather.  Warm days, cool nights.  Perfect.  In the stands, we commented on the beautiful sunset that was to come and talked about how glad we were that the sun was about to dip beneath the trees.

When the JV game ended, we settled in for what would be another 2 hours of soccer, this time watching the Varsity players.  My oldest plays for this team and is a junior at the high school.  The team warmed up.  Just before standing for the national anthem, the starting line-up was introduced.  The team, gathered near their bench, huddled together to cheer on each player being called to the center of the field.  I have seen this done a hundred times.  Except, this time was different.  My son's name was called and I saw his blond head running through his team.  He began his run out to meet up with his teammates on the field and in a split second, it happened.  And I never saw it coming.

As he ran forward, the whole of his life passed right before me.  I am not kidding or exaggerating or being dramatic.  I didn't plan it or even think it or know it was coming.  It was an ordinary day and all of a sudden I am crying, in public, because I could see it all.  I could see him starting preschool in his yellow jacket, learning to play soccer with his skinny little legs, pouring over a book with his furrowed brow, laughing in the backyard while our dog licked his face, biking down the street with his hair in the wind, walking confidently across the middle school graduation stage, and heading tentatively into high school on that very first day.  I could see his infant face and his now-grown face and all the ways those faces are exactly the same.  And then, I could feel that it is almost done. I knew, in some deep visceral way, that the number of times I get to do this is getting smaller and that for all the days that raising children feels like a job that I will have forever, this moment was clarifying the truth.  There is an end-game.  And I am standing way too close.

I sat in the stands, choking back tears (as I am doing right now), and praying that no one would see.  I talked myself off the ledge and reasoned that my boy is only a JUNIOR.  I have another whole year on top of the one we just began!  I practiced my Lamaze breathing and dabbed casually at my eyes but I could not look away.  Because there he stood.  Taller than me and standing proudly in the center of a field he knows as well as our own backyard.  There he stood, closer to leaving than staying, far more adult than boy.  How does anyone not cry when you suddenly see the truth?  And when the truth holds so much depth and beauty and history and love, how are we not moved to tears?

On that nearly perfect night, I realized in brand new ways how blessed I am to parent this one good boy.  I realized that it is a gift beyond measure to find yourself sharing your life with teenager that you genuinely love and cannot bear to lose.  I realized that it matters that I pay attention to the absolutely ordinary days because, really, that is what makes up our lives.  And someday, I do not think I will be trying to recall all the big events we lived together as a family as much as I will be holding tight to the wonder that is found on a soccer field in September in the dusk of an ordinary night.

Blessings on your day.  

An Extra Day...

This morning on our way to school, the kids and I were talking about Leap Year and what an interesting thing it is to be given an extra day every four years.  Benjamin and I tried to explain to the little ones all about the year normal year being 365 days, plus one quarter of a day.  Add up four little pieces of day and every four years, you get one extra day.  (Seriously, I can spit the words out to explain this but does it really make any sense at all to anyone?)  :)

As I ran errands today, I found myself thinking about the gift of this day.  One bit of time that we will not get next year and did not have last year... One simple day that is extra.  It is hard to not see the blessing in it today. Here in Chicago (where it is February, after all) it is nearly 60 degrees outside, sunny and spring-like.  People are outside, children are running and playing and the wonder of this wacky weather is shaking us from our winter sleepiness.  It is a gift.  By tonight, we may have snow.  The cold weather is coming right back.  But somehow today, on this extra day, we are given a reprieve.

It is a simple thing, really.  Finding yourself pleased with something you did not earn and never requested helps us to feel connected to those things that make us happy.  Today, while walking a bit outside, I made a list of such things... simple things that make me smile...

1.  The sounds and smells of my house in the morning.  Shower steam.  Mark's aftershave.  Kids singing.  Oatmeal cooking.  Backpacks zipping.  Prayers spoken.  I love the whole of it.

2.  Shoes on feet for all of us.  I saw a picture the other day of a man who had flattened two-liter bottles taped to his feet.  I need to be grateful that there are six of us and we all have shoes that fit and protect our chilly toes.

3.  Nerd Jelly Beans.  Oh-my-fruity-goodness.  It is silly, I know.  But they make me smile.  They make my kids smile.  And they are so good...

4.  Coffee made for me.  Most mornings, Mark (who does not drink coffee), makes some for me.  I love the smell floating upstairs.  I love to open my eyes and know it is there.  I love that he does it for me.

5.  Thoughtfulness.  Josiah wondering if Mark will feel bad if we work on his Pinewood Derby car without him.  Noah trying to text clearer so that we can be in contact during the day.  Mark filling the van with gas before he leaves for work.  Benjamin helping Josiah to find his shoes.  Elizabeth offering to get the milk for her brother's cereal.  My best friend making a birthday plan for my upcoming big day.  Thinking about others makes me smile.

6.  Golden-doodle pups.  We have the best dog in America.  I had no idea that dogs could be so great.  Truly.  She thinks about us before herself, finds a toy before answering the door, lives to play and run with our kids and generally makes us happy every single day.  This is no pet, friends.  This is fully a family member!

7.  Grace.  And grace upon grace.  How grateful I am to be loved, everyday, by the God who created me and created this amazing world.  I don't look around nearly enough.  I am not thankful nearly enough.  But knowing that I am forgiven, embraced, saved and seen is enough to drive me to my knees today and every day.

You see, today we have an extra day.  Pure and simple, a day to do with what we will.  I am choosing to be thankful... for time, for people, for so many things... because that seems like a pretty good way to spend an extra day.


If it is going to snow tonight, I have to get back outside!  :)

Blessings on your extra day!

Gratitude: Two Sweet Girlies and The Pioneer Woman, too.

With Layla Grace and Faith's stories on my mind yesterday, the whole of the day was different. Sometimes, we need an awakening of sorts and finding myself so deeply blessed was just that for me. Throughout the afternoon and evening, I noticed things I may have otherwise missed.

I saw:

A glimpse of Elizabeth's baby face when she threw her head back and laughed.

A bit of a growing "grown-up-tooth" sliding into place in Josiah's gap-filled mouth.

The way Benjamin's hair curls around his fingers as he runs his hand through it while reading.

The twinkle in Noah's eye when he laughs out loud.

And I made a point of taking joy in them. I listened to their stories and thought about their days. It was nice, really. The things I found myself pulling close yesterday are the parts of parenting that I looked forward to the most. How does it happen that we lose sight of that?

I took my time with dinner yesterday, too. I recently started reading The Pioneer Woman's blog. It was in that list we made last week, remember? Somewhere I read that she loves to cook not because it's fun or necessary but because for the little while that our families are eating, it strengthens them for the work ahead and feeds their souls. I like that. I really do.

So, I made country ribs from my supper swap group and a big pot of mac and cheese. I roasted broccoli (oh my goodness, have you tried it??) and then went back to the Pioneer Woman's blog for dessert. Intrigued by her apple dumplings, I dove right in and OH MY, they are amazing.


It felt good, my friends, to go through a day in a way that remembers how blessed I am. It made a difference to me to gripe a bit less and focus more on the reality that lies before me. My kids are well. I have a roof overhead. There is food on the table and it is good. All of it is good.

A long while back, there was a book that asked readers to record 5 things, each day, that they were grateful for right then. I liked that book and liked the practice and somehow along the way, let it all go. But, what would happen if we really still did just that? Every day. Five things. What happens to our perspective, our attitude, when we belly-gaze less and look around more? Becoming overwhelmed by the minutiae of our lives can happen so easily... it happens to me all the time. But, what if loving our lives has more to do with choice and less to do with circumstance? I have let myself off the hook here, one too many times. I have looked at our checkbook, our impossible housing situation, my fatigue, my kids behavior and all the while I have missed it all. I CHOSE this life. I didn't accidentally have four kids. I didn't even accidentally have two houses. It was a choice. And the truth is, it might be hard... it often is... but it is mine and it is good.

So, here are five things I am grateful for today:

1. I still have two houses and I LOVE the one in which I live.

2. My kids are healthy and funny and loud. : )

3. The snow is GORGEOUS, especially against the bright blue sky.

4. I love my husband. Even when I am frustrated. He is the man for me.

5. This morning, I heard a bird sing. So did Noah. And it was beautiful.

What about you? What five simple things are you grateful for today? I would love for you to post it here. Your thoughts might help someone else find the wonder in their life.

Blessings on your day.

Perfectly Ordinary

It's an ordinary day. I woke up to 'Siah's smile at 6:10 AM. I came downstairs and poured myself a cup of the coffee Mark made for me before he left for work. I woke Elizabeth up at 7:00 and she started talking before her feet hit the floor. I checked to be sure that Noah and Benjamin were awake and watched the dog try to climb the ladders to their loft beds. I made waffles, laughed at my kids and watched them scurry around to get ready for school. They took vitamins to stay healthy and ate the breakfast I made for them and had time to lay in a pile around our golden doodle, petting her head, scratching her belly and letting her lick their little faces. A perfectly ordinary day.

After dropping them off at school, I headed to the health club to work out. On my phone, I checked Facebook before going in and clicked a link left by my friend Marla. A couple of days ago, she asked for prayer for a two year old, Layla Grace. Today, she asked for prayer for a little girl named Faith. Both have been diagnosed with aggressive forms of cancer.

Today, Layla's momma watched her breathe. She and her husband took 6 hour shifts, not to sleep near their two year old daughter, but to sit and watch her breathe. They are trying to wrap their heads around what might happen next. Layla has sisters who love her and a dog and a momma and daddy who don't know what will happen today... what will come of this... how overwhelming this day might be.

Today, Faith's momma met with hospice. Her daughter was diagnosed just 5 days ago and she is talking with nurses about how to keep her sweet girl comfortable. She is watching her daughter tilt her head to see clearly, going to radiation consults and learning things she wishes she never had to know. On this day, she is praying that her sweet Faith is not in too much pain.

I sat in the van outside the health club and cried. Maybe you think I should let it go or maybe because I don't know these people, I should be able to set it aside. But, I can't. I can't because they are real and because these little ones are hurting and because in the midst of all my busy, busy days, I forget how blessed I am.

Because today, my kids don't hurt. They climb into bed with me and smile. They laugh and fight and make mess after mess and they have energy to burn. And the truth is, I take it for granted. While Faith and Layla's mommas face horror and sadness, I get frustrated by the noise. I think these two women would give anything for either of these girls to get up out of bed and make some noise. They ache to have their daughters laughing out loud, waking up too early or petting the dog. And I have all that in spades.

Today is an ordinary day. My house is a mess and I have cooking to do. I have not seen the laundry room floor in weeks. I have bills unpaid and work to accomplish and my kids will be home soon. And I am GRATEFUL. Truly. For the whole of it. So, I am going to go in the kitchen and bake some amazing dessert and then plan a dinner for all of us to share. I am going to pick up dirty socks and clean messy rooms and I am going to see it for what it is. A sign. A sign that my kids are strong and healthy today... healthy enough to make a mess and leave it for me to clean. And while I move from room to room, I am going to pray. I am going to pray for Layla Grace, for comfort and peace and a pain-free day. And I am going to pray for Faith, as well. For her doctors and for her family and for her own peace of mind. I am going to pray for miracles today. The kind of miracle that can heal these girls... and the kind of miracle that is all around me. A perfectly, thoroughly, ordinary day.

Blessings on your day.