"He's one-third of the way...."
"What do you mean....one-third of the way?"
"He's six years old....one-third of his time under our total care is completed. Only two-thirds to go."
My husband casually dropped this bit of information into my heart Saturday evening - and it was like all the lights in the universe popped on.
My oldest....he's one-third of his way done being a kid.
Already.
What in the world have I been doing all these six years?
And this fact - coming on the heels of those little ones losing their lives - those little ones that were my son's very age. It's rattles me and awakens me and breaks me - completely.
That question - what have I been doing? Where have I been? How is that much of it already in the rear view mirror?
Satan knows that discontentment will drive a Mama to wish away her days and lament things that shouldn't be lamented..... and he knows it will cause a woman to never really live.
He knows a lack of contentment means a lack of being all in - all present.
And when a mother isn't totally immersed - the days fly without her even noticing.
And it can't go on this way.
So perhaps, this puny little blog post can be our permission?
Our permission for life to not be perfect. Our permission to totally immerse ourselves right where we are.
Now. Today.
Not when the curtains are hanging all lovely and every body's healthy and the carpets are clean. Not when the toy bin is organized and the beds are made and the backyard is mowed.
But now.
Because out of the 365 days a year...maybe one or two of them will be near perfect. The others? Most of them will fall somewhere between the ideal and awful. That's what the pastor said on Sunday.
Most of our days are somewhere in the middle. And it doesn't make sense to only really engage a few days a year...or on Friday's...or when the apple pie actually comes out of the oven looking like the picture. Those days are few - but the opportunity to be alive in all our days....those are many.
Ya know....one day....the pitter-patter of little feet won't echo off these walls anymore. And mud-caked toddler boots won't sit at the doorstep. And brushing tangles out of blond hair will be something of the past. That day when my kids transition into adulthood... yes, that day will eventually come. And when it does - I DO NOT want to look back and have to ask myself where it went.
Like Mary....I want to store all these things up in my heart.
All these feet and boots and tangles....all these whines and fevers and back-scratching sessions. All these arms that wrap around legs, all these trains and airplanes and stuffed bears. All these little hands helping me stir dinner. All these loud van rides. All of it.
I've just been so moved the last few days.
And torn and slapped and stripped - from those words and those news reports.
I have today. Tuesday. So here....in the middle.....is where I'll nestle in and open up and fully engage.
This permission - to live fully in the imperfect....it's what I needed.
May it meet some need in you today, too :)
Love to you all.
