When my world gets too noisy I find myself getting quiet. I tuck my heart in by all four corners, and beg the hustle in my soul to just: be still.
Lately I have been sinking myself deep into my old lady hobbies—I read, watch my birds, tend to my garden, and try to keep the children from breaking one another in half. I think this way of living takes practice for us adult people. We have to fight off the checklists, opinions, insecurities, and all the muck that keeps most of us from growing little again. It’s a good life, and I’ve been learning how to rest through the eyes of my children, because for them it’s so effortless. They don’t have to strain to see beauty everywhere. They don’t feel guilty over slowing down, and yet have you ever noticed the way kids can almost instantly reboot—usually right before bedtime, God help us!
One day while I was rushing through the sweaty task of watering my plants, Alana came barreling out of the door screaming at the top of her lungs, “Mommy loooooook a RAINBOW!”
She could barely contain her glee, while I was preoccupied with what nozzle setting would accurately water the plants without drowning them. Now whenever I water, she always looks for the rainbow. All it took was one ordinary moment in the midst of a mundane task to stop her in her tracks. It makes me slow down too. I’m learning to crave less and marvel at more. The smoke haze around our home reminds me of how even blue skies carry hope, and I won’t always have the blood orange moon’s beauty to admire.
Psalm 19:1 in the MSG translation says, “God’s glory is on tour in the skies, God-craft on exhibit across the horizon. Madame Day holds classes every morning, Professor Night lectures each evening.
My heart grows heavy as I watch the news. I see the pictures and read the stories of pain circling around our tiny broken plant, and yet in the cracks of despair I see goodness. I see people coming together who would have never otherwise met or needed each other. I see everyday heroes stepping up. I see life in a land where there shouldn’t be any survivors.
Let’s give beyond what we can, sure. Let’s pray, let’s educate ourselves, let’s band together, and find beauty in the ugly that gets thrown our way. Let’s look for the rainbow in the mundane, but maybe we start doing that before the flood starts.
So, I drink deep from the well of children around me, because they are the future. They hold more hope in their bones than I can muster in my uptight pinky finger. They see differently, they love differently, and I think we could all stand to learn something from their unexpected ways.
I’m sure this sounds like the rantings of a SAHM with too much coffee and time on her hands, but when you really boil down the tragedies we face in life, the joy, the pain, the humor, the sorrow—we all want to face it with someone. We want our family, our tribe, and nothing reboots the village quite like children.
This year my Mom lost her beloved childhood bestie to cancer, and in the same grief filled day, a dear friend of mine gave birth to her precious baby girl. So life goes on and pain and joy lock fingers promising us that God’s not done with this story.