Slowing Down and Breathing

It’s been a whole week since I’ve ventured to this space.  I don’t think I’ve been away for that long since I was pregnant with Meadow.  Don’t worry, I’m not pregnant. . . though by the 1/4 jar of mayo I found in the pantry and the clothes that I put in the dryer without washing first may make some wonder.  No pregnancy, though, I promise.

It’s just that life got kind of crazy and we are adjusting to the new summer schedule and this and that and the blog was placed on the back burner.  There is work still waiting for me, but Chad encouraged me to put those things aside for the evening and come to this space.  He knows that I find my sanity here.  He knows that when I come here, I breathe. 

Tonight, I’m taking a breath.  Tonight, I’m breathing. 

Over the last several years this space has become such a comfortable place for me.  Like snuggling into your favorite spot on the couch.  The spot that has, over time, molded itself to your body and has the perfect amount of give, allowing your body to rest comfortably and let go of all that you carried to it. 

That’s why I’m writing tonight.  I’m writing because in writing I find rest. 

When I write here I am able to find perspective.  It is here that first things come first and I am able to see what really matters. . . and what matters less.  I’d like to say that I live every moment of the day with a keen awareness of those things, but I don’t.  Most of the time I’m running so fast in survival mode that I am incapable of seeing it.  However, when I write. . . it all becomes so clear.

Recently, a friend said to me. . . your blog is like the Cosby Show. . . everything turns out okay in the end.  I laughed when she said it, but have pondered it since.  I suppose my stories could be viewed like an episode of Cosby, because really, everything does turn out okay.  I think that’s what life is teaching me again and again and again.  Problems come and I freak out for a bit and then after some time. . . everything turns out okay.  I mean really, we’re still breathing, right?

I’m not trying to minimize pain or trials or heartache or tragedy.  Not in the least.  I guess what I am (constantly) learning is that life truly is about perspective.  Sometimes the perspective comes in huge doses and other times, tiny glimpses.  In fact, I think those little glimpses are everywhere.  It’s just a matter of slowing down enough to see it. 

I see those glimpses most clearly when I stop and really take in the ordinary moments from our days.  I love to sort through images and tell and retell our stories. . . Oh, Chad, look at this one.  Or, Oh, you’ve got to see this one. . . or, let me show you just one more. . .

Poor Chad is subjected to my story-telling on an almost nightly basis as I relive the simple, yet often chaotic, moments of the hours before.  Truth be told, though?  These stories come after I vent about the harder moments–Meadow’s meltdown or Charlie’s and Chanelle’s squabble or the moments of anxiety I encountered as I tried to balance building a business with being a Mama and maintaining my own sanity. 

Place them on a scale, though–the moments that ‘really matter’ and the moments that ‘matter less’– the scales tip far in one direction.  The moments that matter shine through. 

This week?  We dove head first into summer break.

We’ve already taken several visits to the playground where little ones screamed and yelled as they raced from one activity to another.  The hot sun cast it’s long rays turning white skin red and zapping all energy from each and every one of us.

Charlie has turned himself into a hot stuff baller. . .

. . . with his Tinkerbell ball. . .

. . . while Chanelle nearly died from boredom waiting for her brother to make just one more shot. . .

. . . and Meadow insisted she wear a hat in 87 degree temperatures. . .

We’ve begun our most enjoyed tradition of exploring creeks and forests while putting our washing machine on overtime.

And we’ve worn the concrete down outside our favorite ice cream spot. . .

In a matter of a week we’ve done a whole lot of living in between quiet moments of existing together as all families do. . .  

And there it is.  This is why I take time out to come to this space.  These moments?  These tiny little moments that no one (but us) will ever notice?  These matter most.  I see it now.  I see it, when I slow down enough to let myself see it. These are the moments that make the harder moments worth it.  As sweet and precious as the air in my lungs, these are the memories I will carry with me for a lifetime.  These are the moments that make me pause in the midst of the crazy and feel what I so often am too busy to feel. . . .

These are the moments that fill me with thankfulness. 

Have a great weekend, Friends.

“Always remember to slow down in life; live, breathe, and learn; take a
look around you whenever you have time and never forget everything and
every person that has the least place within your heart.”
—Anonymous