What Gets Done in the Undone
No matter how big your house is, I’m assuming that all mothers can come down with the feeling that the roof’s caving in. Our apartment is 1,100 square feet, which is plenty of room, but we are a lot of big people who play big and fight big and talk big. Our words can pour out of rooms like the rubble from an explosion. We echo within our walls, fill the crannies.
Sometimes my vision blurs and the ceiling seems to inch lower. I hear tiny cracks forming. I wince and mentally duck for cover. That’s when I consider grabbing the bag of chips and running for the lock on the bathroom door.
Last night, after dinner and a day struggling to semi-civilize my boys, I did the usual Mamawork until I sat completely still on the floor of my new laundry room with a few loads of clothes and my heart beating in my ankles – the somewhat pleasing, high kind of exhaustion. I could hear Seth reading to them, then they sang Every Move I Make, their favorite, before praying.
I left the cold pot of beans on the stove all night long, and it’s not because I forgot to wash the pot. I left it on purpose and walked to the couch, and Seth played his guitar in an upright chair with a notebook and pen in front of him. He loves through music.
He was my David. The ceiling inched its way back up. The quiet settled back into the soul bones.
He comes to the couch, and he puts his hands on me, and we watch television. We didn’t talk about a single thing.
I went to bed thinking about how I used to cry that we didn’t talk enough – usually when I had PMS, which didn’t make the tears untrue. I’m sure I’ll do it again one day. But last night, we simply sat together, and I knew he loved me. The heavy of the day was palpable. He’s an attorney. I’m a mother of 4 boys (or, 3 1/2).
This morning I take inventory. Their beds are crumpled and already filled with hero guys and drippings from sippy cups. They do their puppy piling, loud laughing, roll-playing. One of them pretends to be Bear Grylls and threatens to eat nasty raw animals if he can find some. One of them pretends he’s climbed to the top of a mountain (bunk beds) and gives a great victory holler as he looks down at the view below.
We’ve done the most growing in this small space, the little becoming more. We can all experience the loaves and the fish, the mountain in the mustard seed, and the voice of God in the silence.
I am learning to find Christ-Esteem in the things I choose to leave undone and in the words I choose not to say.
Consider what it means to have Christ-Esteem.