The Face of Grace

Time is a funny thing. When we're happy it seems to fly. When we're struggling, it's like molasses in January. When it's summer in Missouri with restless, creative children running all over the house, "creating" at 5 times the rate I can clean up, the happy times and the struggles trade places about every half hour. If you have ever spent an entire day with several kids at all different developmental stages, you know that it's remeniscent of videos in behavioral neuroscience class where neurologists would stimulate different parts of the brain and we would see the subject go from being carefree and delightful to a full-blown rage in the space of 30 seconds. When kids are happy, being around them feels like being wrapped in a plush blanket on a freezing day. When kids are out of sorts, at least to me, it can be a big recipe for crazy cake, the ingredients of which are: constant arguing over petty little things; blaring of loud music...and repeat; dumping baskets of small plastic things all over the floor; inability to stay full; and the inevitable shrill shouting of "MOOOOOOOOMMY" from somewhere across the house about every 5 minutes. Stir that together with a couple of big dogs running around barking at everything that moves, bake in a 110 degree oven with 95% humidity for about 5 hours, and VOILE, you've got a crazy cake with Mom written in shaky handwriting on top!

But that's only on some of the days. On days like yesterday, the last of our summer play days before Abby's school started, the universe reminds me of why I decided to do the Stay at Home Mom thing in the first place. It was cool enough outside to open the windows and turn on the ceiling fan. My childrens' best friend came over and they watched a short movie. After it ended they put on fun music while dancing wildly and giggling until their stomachs hurt (that's my personal favorite kind of laughter)! After that we got a big roll of paper out, rolled it the whole length of the kitchen floor, and used a big basket of crayons and colored pencils, and drew "the longest picture in the world", Ramona and Beezus style. We finished it off with a dinner of taco salads and leftover birthday cake ice cream. As Abby and Simon walked their best friend to the door they all hugged and made plans for her to come over after the first day of school and do homework together.

You see, that's the thing about time, and about life in general. If we tried to make an evaluation of our life based on any one moment in time, we would never be able to confindantly move forward. We could never be sure what to hang our hat on. We would just have constant emotional wiplash. The real joy of life is found in all the in-between spaces, the moments of grace, where we grow, learn, and find love despite our best laid plans. It's a lot like planting a garden. We put the seeds or plants in the ground, water them, get on our knees and get dirty pulling up the weeds to help them flourish, let the light bathe them. Then one day you walk out on your porch to relax and your senses are overcome with delicious aromas. The mint, basil, coneflowers, and marigolds are carried on the breeze and become part of the air you breathe. The beauty of their blooms is almost an afterthought. I think this is how moments of grace are in our lives. They're intangible, invisible. They capture us sometimes, and elude us sometimes. But they are always there if we have the eyes to see, ears to hear, and the quiet to let our senses behold them.

At the end of this Missouri summer I have a 3rd grader and a preschooler in his last year of preschool. I have had days where I felt like a crazy person,days when I felt like the most blessed person on earth, and days when the best thing to do was to do only what neeeded to be done and just keep moving. We have played in the ocean, visited grandparents, gone to movies, taken swimming lessons, played at the pool, taken little excursions to the "big city" (Kansas City). Dave and I even got out on one big date!! Most important of all, though, is that we all move into another year with the knowledge that we are known fully and loved deeply by one another. We have everything we need, even if there are still things that we want. We laugh together and share questions together before bedtime at night. We make provisional plans for our future, and have each other to love as we talk through the challenges of the present. These are the aromas of grace, the beauty that surrounds us even when particular moments may not be so lovely. This is, as Anne Lamotte puts it, "carbonated holiness".