I remember one of my first clarifying moments as a mom. It involved a beautiful home, an airplane ride and a jar of salsa. My oldest was ten months. Our only child at the time. It was our first airplane ride as a family. (An adventure all its own, I'll save the sordid details for another post. Suffice it to say, the transporation part of that trip was chock full of drama. And I mean the not-good sort of drama, including an ambulance ride, a CAT scan, and a baby who cried for two straight days.)
The clarification came in a beautiful living room as people gathered to celebrate a birthday. It happened when, in the middle of said living room, someone decided they wanted some salsa for their chips.
The moments that followed this request will forever be etched in my mind. As I watched the ensuing panic as the homeowner made every provision possible to ensure that the aforementioned salsa would not be spilled on her white carpet, I realized that, while the deep desire of her heart had been to invite all of these people into her home to celebrate her special day, she was missing the moment. As if ruined carpet might stain the day.
I realized in that moment how easy it is for each of us to miss what we truly have when we have it right in front of us, because of our desire for perfection in the surrounding details. Our own little definition of perfection.
And today, as I sit at home with my two young daughters, cooped up inside for yet another snow day, I'm thinking about how much I had longed for a family of my own. And now that I have it, I so often miss what I have. As if dirty clothes strewn throughout the house and "Mommy, I don't like this dinner that took you two hours to make" might ruin the gift that is my family. So I'm reminded to see what I have while I have it. And to see it for what it is. A beautiful gift. A family. Dirty clothes, picky eaters and all.
I'm unwrapping the gift that is today along with lots of other awesome bloggers over at Tuesdays Unwrapped. Hope you check it out.
1 comment:
One time I threw a big Thanksgiving party and my friends and their kids all came and they were all worried about the carpet (which was, of course, very sweet of them). I realized later that I was so proud of myself for NOT worrying about the carpet. My dad always said, "It's just stuff and people are more important." I try to remember that. Even when my favorite platter breaks at my birthday party.
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