Tuesday, February 4, 2014

The Dance of the Mundane


I hear the tip toes and the little crinkle of her pull up as she makes her way out of bed and into the living room.  I sink a little in my chair with the hope that maybe, just maybe she'll look around, not find me, then go right back to bed, for when she wakes, we start the dance of the same ol' same ol'.  Or so it feels.

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.  

2 comments:

  1. Love love love. So perfectly said and transparent. You're such a force of encouragement to so many. Luckily, I get to call you my friend and soak up all these insightful tidbits you speak truth in. All your babies (not just two) are so blessed to refer to you as mommy and gain from your unconditional growth in Christ you demonstrate. You're such a great mom, friend, sister and wife. I'm sure the list continues. Thanks for sharing these intimate thoughts and personal growth allowing us to grow as well.

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  2. Some days I would be so tired and in pain that all I would do when I first woke up in the morning was turn on the tv, put on a 6-hour video, fill three tupperware sippy cups with milk and put them back in the fridge (green, red, blue -- kids knew what was whose), fill three bowls of lucky charms and set them on the table, then prop my feet up on the couch with a book that would help me forget my pain while staying awake, then go back to sleep until the first flush of the kids' toilet wakes me back up. On days like these, my kids knew it meant I was probably not going to play with them, dance with them, or sing with them. At ages 5, 4, and 2, they helped each other out, entertained themselves, and even asked how they could help ME. This happened more often than I wanted, and once in a while Guilt would try to shake its head and wag its finger at me, but Grace was always there to say, "Don't worry, I got this."

    Look how my kids turned out. :-)

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