Living Life Well

This past week away for me was good. Healing.
With life whirling and spinning so fast around me, I had barely noticed certain things about myself that have slowly been permitted to creep back in. Mother's Guilt, for one. Before we left one of my children spoke words that cut deep to my core. "I just wish things were the way they were before the boys. Things were just...funner." And a Mama's heart bleeds. With my plate and my arms full, I simply cannot be all things to all little people around here. Not to mention the husband that so deserves attention. Life tugs and pulls. This woman spreads thin. Grows weary at its demands. The smiles and laughter fade, shadowed by the necessities of the daily grind. And so....life has become more and more about just living, and less about being lived well.
Reaching the near end of myself, I purposed to find some moments in which I could confront Hubs about some growing concerns. In our marriage, in our parenting. Changes that desperately needed to be made. I searched for just the opportune moment. But, as the days progressed, my heart...it turned. My perspective shifted. It was I whom needed the changes. In the blazing hot sunshine on the dock to a little secluded island it was just God and I. I tried to convince Him that certainly the struggles before me are not my own. I swirled and swirled my feet into the deep, cool waters...hoping for an audible reply. Day after day in various ways, He gently reminded me...it's how you choose to see it. Perspective. It's everything. EVERYTHING. (Is this not what I teach my children? Oh, what a hypocrite I've been.)
In our human minds, we tend to label and stack everything mentally into two separate groups: Good vs. Bad. And us women don't easily forget how our stacks are measuring up. The error of my ways lately has been in the keeping of those stacks, instead of just allowing things to be as they are...and being grateful for all things. In my reading this week I came across this: "Thankful people have a view of life that begins somewhere deep in their souls, and circumstances just can't mar their joy. To them, life is a wonderful, continuous dream come true. All of life is blessed, and they see themselves as being in a continual feast." Ooooh. So good. Life can be hairy. Messy. Filled with imperfect husbands and imperfect children. (Dare I even mention imperfect mothers and wives?) Those things are never, ever going to change. Yet I still struggle trying, growing discouraged when they don't bend to my will. I've learned, and continue to re-learn that the only thing I have the power over is my actions and my reactions to these things around me. You know...bitter or better. I've mentally stacked the things that I want to remain bitter about within my marriage; within my relationships; within my child-rearing. And as I do so, I become just that...bitter. Joy is robbed. Smiles fade. Life is simply lived, rather than lived well.
On that tiny little island, in the dark of the night, children tucked tightly in their beds, Hubs and I had many long talks. Evaluating life. Re-evaluating our parenting. Connecting and forgiving. Removing walls and erasing stacks. Moving forward. Realizing that we each have just given up in various areas of our lives. Just simply living life rather than living life well.
The week was, in fact, lived well. With the laziness and relaxation of vacation; it was easy. Modern technology didn't beckon to us. Household chores were at a minimum. Children were happily occupied and distracted. We, in our solitude, were the only other people to focus on. Living in the present moment...easy.
Returning back home I felt saddened. Our little slice of heaven was swept up, locked up, tidied up. Spiders had already started rebuilding their webs as we retreated in the boat. While we skimmed through the surface of the lake, I watched the island grow more and more distant from my view. Waiting for us to return again next summer. I knew coming back home it was unrealistic to expect the simplistic life we had there to follow us. There are far too many demands here at home. Husbands must work. Chores must get done. Phones ring, computers get turned on, emails pour in. Life must be lived.
But I come back home refreshed and repurposed that it can, indeed, be lived well. It's all within my choosing.