A Frantic Search ~ Part One

All day I reminded myself I would leave at 4:00. We stayed at my in-laws for naps, so we would only be 15 minutes away from the dance studio. The girls' class starts at 4:30, and I teach a ballet class in the room next door at 5:00. My sleeping beauties were awake by 3:30, dressed in their pretty pink leotards and tights, and after the usual squirming, their soft curls were pulled into sweet ponytails. 

I even remembered to grab some fall clothes that had been stashed away in a closet there. I tossed them in the back of that mini van so proud I was not only on time, but also remembering things on my mental checklist!

I summoned those girls. Had my sweet ballerina's buckled in their seats and went to grab the keys. 

Keys, where are the keys? 

Come on, I don't have time for this. Where are you keys? 

A very loud silence came when I shook my messy purse. The absence of that saving jingle, was like a tornado siren. The storm is coming... Take cover, Mama's gonna blow!

I'd love to report that I remained calm. That I remembered the verses given to me that morning, Come to me and rest, Do everything without complaining or arguing, but once I had finished digging through my dance bag, the lunch cooler, and the girls' dance bags, my huffing and puffing began.

"Mommy, I need to go potty," my 2 year old whines. 

"Can you hold it? You have to hold it. Until we get to the dance studio. Stay buckled!"

I ran back into my in-laws, hollered to my father in-law that I was back and looking for my keys. I briskly started the retrace your steps act, which is always so demeaning. They were no where. 

"What is this day?" The complaint came quick and easy.

The clock on the oven read 4:20. Ugh, I'm done. I ran back to the car scanning the grass in case I had somehow dropped them. My children are now screaming, "Your phone's ringing!" Like that's of importance? 

I see it's Miss Charlene, their dance teacher, my amazing colleague and sweet friend. I'm listening to her message warning me about traffic on the way to the studio, she's hoping I'm there already, but no I am not.  I knew then I had to do the unthinkable. 

Dump my purse. 

There's a really good reason my husband calls my purse a trash can. Even my two year old gasped when she saw the litter of coins, receipts and crumby Ziploc bags falling from my "looks really cute on the outside" purse. 

No keys.  Just a mess. A really big mess to scoop off of the floorboard. I scoop, and tell myself, "Don't cry, there are worse things," but in this moment I can think of nothing else but melting into a puddle of tears. 

There is a shred of perseverance left in me, and I don't! I unbuckle the very intelligent 4 year old and tell her to look under all the seats, search everywhere for Mommy's keys. I am texting, "Sorry we will be late," to Miss Charlene as I run back inside. My dutiful father in-law has a flashlight in hand looking under beds and behind trashcans, but still nothing.

I call my husband, explain how I am doomed. The girls will have to miss their class. I will borrow his Dad's truck, and no I'm not sure how I'll get home tonight?!

It's 4:39.  My class of 12 young ballerinas starts at 5:00. I break the news to the girls that they will have to miss dance class, and try to tune out their cries of disappointment. Instead I am listening and officially agreeing with the voice in my head telling me, "You are a horrible, unorganized mom." 

I have no other option. I GIVE UP! I unbuckle the now screaming two year old. And there, under her bottom draped in pink chiffon,  in the raisin stained crack of her car seat are my keys.

I am out of breath from reliving this as I type. What's the take away? I can't decide?

1. Listen to your children. If I'd let her go potty I would have found them 20 minutes sooner. Ah yes, but she is also the one who wants to eat chips for breakfast, and dips her PBJ in ketchup.  So no, I don't think listening to her is wise.

2. I know, Give up sooner! Stop trying to make it all happen. Just give up. As soon as you do, the key is revealed. Ha! How about that pun? No, too cheesy.

Or

3. Look for something different.  

You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.  ~Jeremiah 29:13 

I seriously looked like a madwoman for those keys. In my mind, everything depended on the outcome of my search. My career, my motherhood, and most of all my pride.  Finding the keys would be my saving grace.

Hmm, Saving Grace...

How often do I seek His face this way? When was the last time I was out of breath from tearing through the pages of my Bible? When was the last time I did the unthinkable and dumped the dirty contents of my heart in an effort to find Him? 

Somehow the ways of this world lull me into a soft leather seat, inside a gray minivan. A parked minivan, that is going nowhere. 

Quick!  Everyone, out of the car. We have to find Mommy's Jesus!

Treating Myself

Lately I've been treating myself to a break. Not a vacation, not a lapse from responsibility, just a break from trying to capture every moment, emotion or good thought in the most perfect words. Hence why I haven't posted in a while.

Instead, I have been trying to live in the moments granted me and enjoy them. I've tried to resist the urge to manufacture them or over analyze each one.

This is no easy task for me. I am often moving too fast. My brain is a lot like the energizer bunny. It just keeps going and going and going, until my husband rolls over and says, "turn it off." It's often in overdrive trying to find, understand, or create meaning for whatever the day brings.

The funny thing is that after years of over thinking...I'm learning it gets me nowhere. Actually, that's not true. It usually puts me behind, in a place where I've missed my chance to enjoy, experience and give thanks. Thanks for the child wearing on my patience or the shelter I'm trying to keep clean or the mere breath I am breathing.

A few thoughts that have spurred me on to treat myself:

This is what the Sovereign Lord, the Holy One of Israel, says:
"In repentance and rest is your salvation,
in quietness and trust is your strength,
but you would have none of it. ~Isaiah 30:15

"Sometimes attentiveness may feel like letting go — more like being
captured by the grace of the moment than trying to capture the grace
of the moment." Ann Voskampf

I remain confident of this:
I will see the goodness of the Lord
in the land of the living. ~Psalm 27:13

In my attempts to rest, I have not gone to a spa or on a shopping spree. I've just been trying to taste the goodness of the Lord.

I've opened the blinds and watched the sunrise from my bed over the field of green behind our new house. I told myself it was OK to relax and spend another minute snuggled under the covers in the morning light. The soaked pull ups needing to be removed, and the growling tummies wanting to be fed can actually wait one minute. I don't think God minds if I linger in my room another minute in order to let my heart whisper its thanks to Him.

I've also enjoyed more time at night with my hubby. Instead of busying myself by adding more pins to the boards I'll never get around to, I've just sat with him and watched The Voice. Man can those people sing!

I've even said, "Yeah, why not?" when my girls ask to walk to the park even though the set in stone nap time is quickly approaching. And don't tell, but I even let them play 20 minutes longer in their new backyard before calling them in for bed. I'll admit this is in part because it gives me another chance to whisper thanks as the sun
sets through the trees, but I also don't want to stop my girls' living either.

Tasting these new little treats I've been allowing myself, I've realized two things.

1. They aren't really new. They have always been available to me, but my striving, my haste, and my self imposed structure or let's face it my need to control things have been robbing me of real living.

2. They are moments that are good and perfect. They come from God alone. And the most astonishing part of all... He loves me enough to grant them, each new morning, each hour of quiet after the little ones are fast asleep, each sunset. No matter how I choose to spend them, self absorbed or humbled and thankful, He keeps giving them. Each one a treat. Each one GRACE.