I used to get down on the floor and interact with the child I was with. I understood the importance of intimate interaction for a young child and I always envisioned that would stay with me well into motherhood. But today, I'm tired. Too tired.
She likes to put music on and dance around the room as if she's performing a ballet in front of thousands, and she'll reach her hand out to me, while I'm nestled comfortably in my chair, and ask "dance with me mommy." And more times than not, I turn her down as gently as I can because mama is just too tired. The thought of getting down on the floor to play legos her way sounds exhausting. Or setting up her dolls on the couch means that we'll have to take them all down and put them away and my mind goes straight for "no baby girl, mommy's too tired to for that, lets just read books."
And, well, lets be honest... the mundane of child play can even be... boring. Its the same ol' same ol'.
At 28, I imagined I'd be doing adventurous things off saving the world. I'd always wanted to be a mother. I wanted (and still want) a home full of children, where my life oozed purpose. I imagined a life that others would look at and be inspired by or challenged. I just imagined I'd be doing something great.
I recently came across this quote. I read it a couple of times. Even pinned it. Then decided it was worthy of doodling in my journal which then lead to pages and pages of thoughts on the words that stung my heart a little.
"Children are not a distraction from more important work. They are the most important work." ~ John Trainer, M.D.I so often get caught up in the same routine every day that I forget just how urgent my life really is, and just how purposeful each day and moment can be. I've seen those meme's float around facebook calculating just how many days we get with out children. I know, I know... they are only with us a short while. But guess what, THEY ARE ONLY WITH US A SHORT WHILE.
At a marriage conference Jon and I attended recently, we went over our love language and were encouraged to speak the other's language in order to "fill our cups." Then of course, the following day, Christine Caine, one of my favorite spunky Authors to follow on facebook wrote this:
"There is only one love language, it's called 'die to self'."All love languages lead to one purpose, and that is to "die to self", they are just different translation of the same meaning. Die to self. Whether it's with my husband or with my children, my duty, my desire, and my purpose is to love them and loving them means stripping away at selfishness. It means getting down on the floor to play legos even when I'm tired. It means sacrifice.
So although it may appear that my life is mundane and lacks the thrill of adventure, I've got a great task that is full of such risk. See, my little girl doesn't see playing legos as mundane, or barbies and baby dolls as the same ol' same ol'. Her life is anything but ordinary. She sees each day as a dance. From her first tip toes off the bed to the time we tuck her in and say her prayers I can join in as her partner and dance in the mundane.