I sat down on the reclining patio chair to supervise my barefooted cherubs in the backyard. I made a mental note that the sun was very hot and I hoped the garter snakes stay away till we go inside.
It seems like whenever I sit down, a crisis will inevitably happen. Whether it’s the shrieking panic of a certain female because she saw a snake, or a child who waited till the last minute to respond to the call of nature.
I’m not sure if it’s God’s way of answering my request to lose weight miraculously or my own paranoia, but sitting for any amount of time just doesn’t seem to happen very often.
I leaned back and took in a deep breath of sunshine and pine. When my kids are grown, I’m going to sit here for an entire day just listening to birds sing and patting my wind-blown hair back into place.
Of course, I had to put my moment on hold to remove the dirt the baby was starting to put into her mouth and take the hose from my son who was twirling it above his head like a lasso…
Ahh…back to my peaceful perch. I could definitely get used to this.
“Hey Look! Mom!” Squinting through the sunshine, Jovie walks over with a grin on her face. She pulls out a little daisy and hands it to me. “Here Mom, I love you.” Consequently, I melt into mommy-mush all over my rusty lawn chair.
Glowing from the successful reaction she got from me, she quickly bounces off into the grass to pick more gifts.
Her infectious act of giving was a simple wake up call to my thoughts of coveted uninterrupted quiet time. As much as I crave rest from the constant demands of motherhood, this season with my little ones is a gift, not just for me, but from me to them.
I twist this little half-wilted reminder between my fingers and feel that whisper on my heart that giving is what makes life full.
It starts with daisies then turns into dishes.
The abundant life is giving when I’m tired and serving when I’d rather sit. It’s not thinking less of myself, but thinking of myself less.
It’s not to say that I’m not allowed to have quiet and restful moments, (because there are days Tylenol and a nap is the best thing for the greater good, you know what I mean?).
But it might mean that I joyfully give up some of my peaceful perches so that I might give to the little hearts in our home.
I stand up, rescue the baby from another dirt clot, and head inside.
My rusty lawn chair will be there tomorrow, and the next day… but today, the kids need to be fed, taught, and cared for…and right now, I have an invitation to live an abundant life…to catch onto the infectious act this half-stemmed daisy started… and give.
What peaceful perches have you given up recently?