Dead Woman Walking

Two more days of life as I know it. Two more days, and half of one is gone. Slow down clock!  So much freedom, so much peace and quiet to soak up before it's gone, nothing but a distant memory. This Friday is the day. D-day. The beginning of ...*GASP* ... SUMMER break! **[insert blood curdling scream]** Yes, I prayed for these children, begged the Lord to send me these offspring. Yes, I adore them (separately, in small doses especially). Yes, I'm thankful for them. But I'm also not ashamed to admit that being a full time Mom is hard work. That 7 and 10 year old boys will wear you out. That I have been spoiled rotten for the past 9 months and am completely utterly not ready for what is about to take place. I will of course make the best of it. I will put on my big girl panties and assume the role of 24/7 entertainment coordinator. I will put on my warrior helmet and forge into the kitchen to become short order cook, referee, spiritual coach, and shaper of young men. I will put on my swimsuit to splash in the pool with them. I will drive them to the movies and the spraypark and the library and wherever else we can dream up a field trip in the triple digit heat. But just for the record, I'm going to be tantruming on the inside, at least for the first week. Because, just like the rest of my school-age SAHM sisterhood, I'm going to be secretly mourning the untimely death of the girl I used to know, lazy spoiled princess though she was-- that carefree girl who enjoyed things called naps, and quiet time, and solo trips to Target.

I just love Saturday. 

That is all.  Carry on.

The Best

 













"There's none so great a gift in all the world as the chance to glimpse life through the eyes of a small boy. "





I've seen a lot of neat things in my life.

I've stood atop the Acropolis in Athens, strolled the streets of Paris, gazed up at Michaelangelo's handiwork in Rome.  I've explored the coral reefs of Key Largo, locked eyes with a giant moray at 90 feet, rode horseback through some breathtaking Rocky Mountain vistas.  Yeah, I've seen some pretty impressive sights on this planet. But none more magnificent than what I saw today.

And I guess you could say that the good Lord and I have done a few cool things over the years-- led local civic organizations, wrote legal briefs that served justice and changed some laws in our state, volunteered with the Preeclampsia Foundation, been interviewed for the evening news on infertility, stillbirth and preeclampsia awareness, even had my poetry read on the air.  Through the years since Maria's death I've had the chance to minister to some precious women enduring things no woman should have to endure.  But none of these things is more significant than what I accomplished today.

No, there have been just a few days on this earth that stand out from the rest--and none of them are the kind you might expect.  Just a few things I've done seem to ring with the sound of eternity. There was the day I held the hand of a woman whose child was dying in her arms-- and found a lifelong friend. The day I sat up talking all night with a stranger who I'd somehow known forever-- and found my soulmate. And then there are the simple unglamourous days of motherhood, when I nurture little souls-- and find my purpose.

Today my six year old son made a simple request. "Jump with me, Momma." 
Jump we did. 
But in fact we didn't just jump--we SOARED. 
We sang. 
We laughed 'til our sides ached. 
We fell exhausted on that big black trampoline, side by side staring up at puffy shapes in a bright blue sky. Then we did it all again.
"This is the BEST," he said, breathless, and kissed my cheek.
"Yes it is," I said.  Yes it is.

I'd been looking for a sign, a stray God-wink of affirmation on my drab daily life in Just-a-Momville. What I got was a giant thumbs-up flashy God grin. 
This, too, is worthwhile. 
This, too, matters.
Today I saw the wonder of life through the eyes of small dirty boy with one front tooth. 
Today I brought joy to an angel in scuffed cowboy boots. 
Today I lived.
And the thought occurred to me that maybe, just maybe, the ripples of these little acts--the simple gifts of time spent with these boys--reach far beyond the bounds of my mere imagining. 
Maybe this is, after all, the "best" of me.