When Life Feels Complicated…
There are mud boots scattered slovenly across my deck and sand shovels dotting the yard.
There are sticky splats of spilled dish soap on my front step and abandoned bubble wands by the welcome mat.
There are dirt pies baking on the back patio and pieces of sidewalk chalk streaming up and down the driveway like confetti.
There are abandoned shoes in every hallway and dirty clothes piled high in the laundry room.
And I’m beginning to wonder if there’s a black hole in my kitchen, ’cause I’ve been grocery shopping at least a dozen times in the past seven days and my cupboards keep turning up near-bare by day’s end.
Summer vacation has officially begun!
As I collapsed into bed last night, bone tired and mind spinning, I realized that summer break amplifies the great paradox of parenthood.
With all these kids beneath my roof and all these hours to fill, I sway between giddy glee and weary vexation.
And I think I know why my emotions are lurching like a bubble in the wind.
If you’re a mama, you’ll probably nod your head and murmur a quiet Amen as you read my not-so-novel revelation:
Children complicate life and simplify it all at the same time.
Kids add fingerprints to every window, footprints to every floor, and demands to every day.
They leave tracks on our hearts and stretch marks on our souls.
Children introduce us to morsels of ache and gulps of awe that we’d never tasted before our names changed to Mommy.
Children complicate everything.
Marriages once focused on romance and recreation become training grounds for selflessness and perseverance.
Routine tasks once performed with efficiency and ease become exercises in exasperation and exhaustion.
A once quiet home morphs into mayhem.
Black and white decisions turn gray.
And yet, those same children who complicate our days, simplify our lives.
The same hands that smudge our windows pull us to the garden to marvel at gossamer butterfly wings.
The same feet that muddy our floors dare us to race happy across the grass for the sheer thrill of feeling the earth’s soft carpet beneath our toes.
The same child that weighs heavy on our hearts can send our souls soaring when he flashes us a toothless smile.
I was thinking about those crazy contradictions this morning as I jotted another grocery list on the back of an old manilla envelope.
And watched out the window as my littlest girl picked daisy lions in the yard.
I was fighting the urge to feel grumpy about the mud splats on the floor when my daughter raced into the kitchen with grassy toes and a bouquet of golden weeds.
And instead of fixating on the wet grass molting from her feet, I tried to celebrate the light in her eyes and the sun-kissed offering in her hands.
I tried to listen, to really listen, as she told me about the fairies nestled in the tall grass and the bird who sang her a lull-a-bye out there even though it’s NOT time for bed, and the beautiful flowers that have golden hair like Rapunzel.
Then, as I filled a glass goblet with water and arranged those golden-haired daisy lions in the makeshift vase, my dramatic diva climbed onto the kitchen counter and sang me a happy song, right there between the stacks of unopened mail and the towers of dirty breakfast dishes.
And as I bent low to sweep those clumps of grass that had snuck in on my little girl’s feet, I wondered if the secret to enjoying the great paradox of parenting is simply to peer at our complicated days through our children’s humble gaze.
When the laundry’s piling high and the kids are fighting loud; when our to-do-list is taunting and our energy’s as diluted as the juice we offer our cranky toddler; maybe on those days, we need to follow our complications right out the door and look for pictures in the clouds.
And when the sky is growing gray and the hours are feeling endless, it may be time to bare our feet and dance in the rain with the ones who see the pictures in the plop.
Maybe life isn’t as complicated as it seems.
When the weight of our own expectations press heavy on our shoulders like a sack of hefty rocks, perhaps we just need to follow our children’s lead and skip a few stones.
And maybe then we’ll discover that the greatest parenting paradox of them all is the simple way joy grows BIG when we view the world through the eyes of someone small.
And(Jesus) said: “I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. -Matthew 18:3
Joining Ann for Multitude Mondays once again and giving thanks for these simple summer gifts…
- 2040. A mom who makes and delivers the “secret bubble solution”, and kids who race across the yard chasing those floating bubbles with downright giddy joy. Sheer summer bliss. (For a few moments, anyway!)
- 2041. Sunshine streaking through the gray.
- 2042. Hannah playing school with the little ones on the first day of summer break :)- a teacher in the making!
- 2043. My niece, Anna, who stepped into our chaos for a few days and showered my kids with love.
- 2044. A dad who drops what he’s doing to come wade through a flooded bathroom and inspect our faulty toilet!
- 2045. The thrill of watching another child learn to read! Joshua’s joy after reading his FIRST BOOK, Hotrod Harry.
- 2046. A jr high teacher who takes time to encourage me through kind words; a priceless reminder of God’s faithfulness in shaping my firstborn.
- 2047. All seven of us traipsing through the Mega Mall and having fun just being together.
- 2048. Splashing with the five in a hotel pool. A hot tub that’s actually HOT!
- 2049. The funny things Maggie says (laughter unlimited thanks to that girl)—at the end of the day– “Mom, my lips are so tired I may not be able to kiss you!”
Laura for playdates with God, Jen for soli deo gloria, The Better Mom, The Mom Initiative, and with Sarah for Mom Notes, and Jen at Rich Faith Rising.
