I used to dream up a scenario that would provide the perfect writing atmosphere. It went like this: Maybe I should spend a few leisurly hours at Starbucks curled up in a comfy couch while basking in the warm arfternoon sun. Surely that would be just the key I needed to unlock a treasure trove of witty words.
Oh, those dreams are long gone. Instead I'm learning to seize fleeting moments be they ideal or not. Like right now. I'm sitting at the kitchen table with my back to countertops loaded with dishes. Jaden is crying and the hubby is exasperated. All the while I am still in my most unglorious pajama's covered in flour. Did I mention that it's nearly six o'clock in the evening?
In order to make it though the week as a working mom I spend Sundays cooking up meals galore. It's all guts and no glory. Often I am tempering my emotions as I am toasting vegetables. Do I feel bitter cooking up as storm while the hubby plays video games? Heck yes! Yet, I know he works hard as well and deserves a break now and then.
As Jaden continues to cry, there is a darker part of my heart that says, "This is not how it should be." I've listened to that part of my heart for awhile now especially when the dishes and the laundry and the cleaning and the crying and the cooking begin to pile up on my shoulders. This is not how it is supposed to be.
Then again, maybe it is.
Maybe it's all about developing a new person. One that does not want to pull their hair out at every little incovenience. One that sacrifices without the applause of cheerful fans. One that gives without expecting a reward. Who would that person be like?
Maybe me?
It's possible. It's possible if I allow myself to be formed into the image of the One who loves perfectly. With that thought, suddenly, the house has fallen silent with the sweet sounds of a sleeping baby. Peace. Just as suddenly, light has chased away the darker parts of my heart and my perspective adjusts. Maybe this is how it should be. Maybe I can enjoy cooking as an expression of love...whether it is received the same way or not. Maybe I can relish a trip to the grocery store just as much as I delighted in spending countless useless hours shopping for shoes. Maybe I can count myself blessed with a homeful of chores when so many don't have homes at all. Maybe I can cook away with content knowing my sweetly sleeping men are just a breath away. Maybe this is the perfect writing scenario after all.
Maybe.
