An overwhelming sense of simplicity is weaving itself through my thoughts, in the way I knit this yarn over and under, over and under. . A freeing stillness beckons me beyond the noisy, swirling world. I left there and the only thought was how I was supposed to want all of that, but I didn’t. I’m still soaking in just how huge that really is.
We’re in the growing years, where our furniture is second hand, where sometimes we have rice and beans for dinner, and burgers, fries, and milkshakes are a real treat. A conversation over steamy coffee with a friend as our emotional three years play happily and then cry. Repeat. Words intermittent between babies in need. And then, one utters, “As if there is something wrong with that? It’s food, it’s filling, it’s sustaining. The problem is that it is humble. There’s nothing wrong with humble. What are we trying to prove?”
And you have to pause and ask yourself, what are we trying to prove?
We feel lost in a sea of voices that says humble is not okay. Faster, faster, faster, more, more, more. We swim upstream against the seductive currents of busy. We struggle and strive this internal battle but we wear the uniform on the inside, so no one knows.
And then one day, you drive away and you’re supposed to want all of that, but you don’t. You don’t. Not even a little bit.
Slowly, you realize the victory, when overwhelming joy is found in…
Sharing a hot cocoa, heavy on the marshmallows with your little boy.
Melting into the thrift store love seat, wearing a slip cover one size too big.
Sitting in a friend’s kitchen, as two three year olds both want the same snake and two babies seek the comfort of their mama’s arms… and you share a French press and say, motherhood isn’t something to just get through. There’s beauty and challenges and meaning and purpose and truth waiting to be found.
It’s full, this life.
linking up with Just Write.