Little Small Moments

She and I. It would be the understatement of the year to say we are having some challenges. Alike in so very many ways yet completely opposite in others. But deep down, I get her. And sometimes that's the biggest struggle. She has a tag on the inside of her pants that ABSOLUTELY WON'T DO. There is a toenail sticking out just wrong enough to make shoes totally unwearable. What seems like a fairly minor collision with the table elicits death-defying shrieks. Must I give the wails my attention? I'll be darned if I don't. The other day I paused momentarily to survey the damage and returned to my work of preparing dinner. A six year old voice piped up: "Mom! I don't like it when you turn your back on me when I'm hurt."

She has a point. Who would like having a back turned in time of need? This child-rearing, raising them up to be healthy little loving humans certainly isn't for the faint of heart. No one ever told me having kids would be like taking the magnifying side of a mirror and aiming it toward all your faults and deepest insecurities and then projecting them for all to see. Even though it's really, really hard and takes every ounce of my patience and then some, it's the most amazing thing I've ever done. Yesterday we were sharing a meal with family and my brother-in-law gave thanks for the privilege of parenting - how it gives us just a glimpse of the depth of the Father's love for us as we experience the immense love we have for our own children. I couldn't have said it better.

This month has been an excruciating one for me. After two doctors visits and over 30 days of not feeling well, I finally landed myself with the diagnoses of a sinus infection, bronchitis, a double ear infection and pneumonia. Talk about feeling a little bit under the weather! Last week I hit bottom as the darkness of the weather collided with my inability to exercise due to the coughing fits they induced. The weight of the world surrounded me, so much so that I began every day with this heavy sense of dread that I just could not shake. I could not identify anything that I was looking forward to (even with Christmas around the corner!) and every day felt like monotony. It was not a place that I wish to return to.

The one benefit of being sick for so long is that I did get the opportunity to do a little bit of reading. I lacked the motivation for much else beyond laying on the bed and then moving downstairs to lay on the couch, just for varieties sake. Well, and I suppose there was a sprinkling of "parenting" going on in there somewhere too but mostly I left that up to the TV which was my ever-present babysitter (gasp). I'm actually in the middle of reading two books right now which isn't that uncommon for me: Bird By Bird (by Anne Lamott) and Simply Tuesday (by Emily P. Freeman). It might take me half the year to get through the two books but I like to dance between the pages of each, combating any chance at monotony. Though I would never put these books into the same literary category, the theme that keeps jumping out at me through the pages is similar. One is on writing, but specifically small frame writing. The author encourages readers to take a moment in time and pretend you are looking through a 1-inch frame and write about what you see. Avoid what is behind you or even in the periphery. Look through that one inch and look closely. See the detail. Write.

The subtitle of the next book summarizes it's content so perfectly: "Small-Moment Living in a Fast-Moving World." The author talks about making even the ordinary moments in our life count. She herself is fighting against the urge to Make! Produce! Ship out! She suggests we are always tempted as humans to "build a city" - to do something bigger and better and go for the glory. What if instead, the next time we spy a ladder and are tempted to use it to build upward, we take it apart and use the wood to build ourselves a bench? A bench to sit upon, and stay awhile, to keep us in the moment. 

I like the way both these author ladies think. And this is a practice I long to grow better at. 

I was in a terrible place of bemoaning my illness this past Friday morning when I began the most depressing post (which thankfully I didn't complete so the internet was spared!) It was, however, during the writing of said post that I found I was doing just what these two authors had suggested - finding a small moment and diving in. I had set out to whine about the challenges of my weekday afternoons (really, they're a bear), but what I ended up typing was the most beautiful picture of my four year old daughter every afternoon when she comes home from school. Usually I view this moment as the end of my "me" time (which of course never feels quite long enough) and the beginning of a looooooong and whining-filled afternoon and evening until I can finally appease the kids' last request and get them in bed at about 7:30 PM. But when I stopped and really looked at that moment when the clock strikes 3:10, my quiet is broken, yes, but then it is filled to the brim as my beloved, sweet and affectionate 4 year old comes bursting through the door. She pulls out a picture from her backpack and presents it to me. It's the same every day - a large red heart in the top left corner of the page with the letters M-O-M scrawled next to it. It's beautiful. And sometimes I just need to write about these things to realize their beauty. To assign new value to the mundane in the day to day.

Today I had the incredibly opportunity to volunteer in my oldest's classroom (see picture above). It took me 6 weeks to schedule a 1 hour segment, mind you, but I made it happen. Due to our strained interactions as of late, I'm typically more than happy to send my little girl off to school and not see her again until 3:40 PM. That feels really terrible to type (Child, please forgive me when you read this someday and know that I love you desperately!!!) but it's the truth right now this day, this month. Sometimes space is what keeps us both alive at the end of the day. BUT, I knew that being in her class would mean the world to her and I really want to make an intentional effort to be present now when she outwardly wants me there because I know these days are numbered. 

You guys, it was the BEST THING EVER going to school with my sweet one and staying. She was GLOWING and I'm pretty sure she thought I was the coolest mom to have ever set foot in that classroom. I mean. These small moments. They are the absolute best! God, grant me the ability to slow down and surrender my agenda and be present for these small, precious moments. The joy in the ordinary.