Sometimes the walls begin to press inward. The only shine on the floor is the sunlight reflecting off millions of tiny cars and trains scattered about. Beds need changing, laundry needs folding, grout needs scrubbing and meals need preparing. Cruising through each room, tossing cars and trains into bins, I am horrified to hear behind me the sound of an entire bin being joyfully emptied onto the just cleaned up floor.
At these moments my fight or flight instinct kicks in. I have a habit of choosing flight. Scooping up my toddler, grabbing my purse and buckling in the van. Running away.
As my toddler gently falls asleep in the car seat I drive aimlessly, sipping a Starbuck's, savoring the sense of freedom being a stay at home mom brings. It is possible to simply run away for an hour.
But then I return home. The mess awaits. The older boys return from school and the mess expands.
And then one day I don't flee the scene. I make a radical decision to escape at home. Homemade cup of coffee at hand, candle lit, toddler napping in his bed upstairs, I sit in the sunshine and begin to run toward God. Prayer beads sparkle in the light, words fall from my lips like feathers creating a downy softness in my spirit. All is well. All will be well.
I rise, renewed, reminded of the gift of this moment, this house, this life, ready to meet the mess with grace~filled eyes.
Joining Ann Voskamp in exploring the practice of time.