I Almost Missed This

Tonight I misplaced my patience, I raised my voice, I lost my temper, and I drove away mad. Really mad. Mad at both myself, and the two I had just lost my cool with inside our house.

Over what else… but spelling words. Those damn spelling words. And apples. And spelling words inside of drawn and colored apples. And it wasn’t the first time this week we have fought over this very very same exact thing. None of us won tonight. Ugh.

I know we’re not supposed to admit we sometimes lose our cool and raise our voices. I know that’s the stuff we’re supposed to keep quiet, keep hidden, keep in denial about. But hey… I surely can’t be the only mom out those who occasionally loses her marbles at 5:30 p.m. between that miserable time of transition between work and school to home… They keep it together (mostly) at school, we keep it together (mostly) at work - and somehow we get ourselves back home and we.are.done. Done done.

And how easily we can slip from our most polite and put together selves, to our most ugly and falling apart selves.

Well… I fell apart, and I raised my voice, and my garage door was open, and my neighbors were outside so I'm sure they heard it, and then… I drove away angry and upset. I carried a heavy grudge on my shoulders and a deep ache that burned in my heart. Our inner ugliness has a way of dragging us down with such force and determination it’s actually quite frightening to me sometimes.

I didn’t just drive away for an hour or two… with time to come back and attempt to make amends. Nope - I drove away for the night, and most of tomorrow. I drove away to another state, to spend time alone, in silence, by myself… I drove away leaving behind a wake of shrapnel and no way to repair it, except through time and distance. Sometimes that is the best thing for everyone… But my parents always said to never go to bed angry. “Never let the sun set on an angry heart….” "In your anger do not sin": Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry." ~ Ephesians 4:26.  Ok maybe it was Jesus that said it… but it’s what kept playing over and over, again and again, in my mind as the miles started ticking off.

I got about ten miles down the road and started realizing all the things I’d forgotten, in my angry haste to get in the last word and drive away. One of the items left behind was my beloved canon camera. I contemplated turning around for it… but I looked at the time and there just wasn't time to turn around and still get to where I was going by the time I wanted to get there.

I was upset, and I was on a mission. On a mission to get to my happy place one last time. On a mission to embrace utter silence, peace, rest for just a few blessed hours. I was on a mission to witness #sunsetoclock by myself tonight. After realizing my good camera was not in the car with me, I almost laughed, just knowing there was going to be a fabulous sunset to witness tonight, and no way of really fully capturing it… except through the grainy pixelated lens of my camera phone. While better than nothing, it was still not what I wanted or had planned.

I drove in silence much of the way, my little Lily Lou nestled and sleeping on my lap in her usual traveling posture. She snored and lay limp across my legs… and I slowly stroked her ears, wondering why in the world I always and forever allow life to get so darn hard. It’s got to be me, it’s got to be some ridiculous personal problem that I just can’t seem to ever conquer. I’m always big emotion and over the top drama inside. Intense, overactive, and just an all-in-all a hard person to live with and love.

I know it… and yet I just can’t seem to change it. Like so many other areas of my life. Aware, but seemingly helpless to do anything about it.

Sixty one minutes later I put on my blinker and turned left into the campground entrance. The sun was about thirty minutes from setting and directly in front of me over the water. The clouds were wispy, a little feathery, and delicately dodging in and out of those golden rays of setting sun. I could have driving my car right into the sunset from that road.

I stopped the car and just looked out the windshield at it all for a while. I drove on slowly and unpacked the contents of my vehicle onto our deck. I slowly walked to the beach as the sun continued to silently slip lower, and lower, and lower. I found myself sitting on some rocks along the edge of the beach, my Lily sitting beside me. The air was perfectly calm, the breeze not even a whisper. The clouds reflected off of the water, and the rays of sun sparkled and danced through the sky and the water in a uniform mirrored dance of seductive peace.

I sat there, as the reds, oranges, and pinks turned into lavenders and blues, and that giant orb of fire went from visible to invisible on the other end of the lake, disappearing into the black tree line over the far west horizon.

It didn't make a sound, this sun that slowly set. The only sound was the crickets and little scurries of squirrels, frogs, and other small animals. I could hear the collective buzz of a million mosquitoes as I sat there in the stillness.

And I thought to myself… “Wow, I almost missed this,” immediately mixed with a small whisper that I probably should have missed it. I should have stayed at home longer, I should have apologized, I should have made amends, I should have this… and I should have that…

But I didn’t. I chose to not. I chose to drive away, and I arrived in the exact time I needed to in order to sit amid the silence, amid the golden beauty of natures artwork at it’s very finest, God’s most elegant form of paint strokes and expression. I breathed in deep, and found tears dripping down, leaking from the corners of my eyes.

Soon there was small sobs, my very own small sobs, seeping into the silence of the night, into the purples and deep blues of the lingering and fading sunset. My happy place suddenly filled with sadness. I sat there overwhelmed. Overtaken by unbelievable and moving beauty of the moment, and by the emotions woven into knowing the end of this season is again so close and nearly upon us. Overtaken by the emptiness that has yet again exposed itself inside me, and the emotional drain of day-to-day life.

Mixed with my personal awe and ache, was also the selfish burning reality in knowing I didn’t lose my house or anyone I love in a hurricane recently. I am not currently in an epic battle of illness or cancer, and neither is anyone in my family. I’m not without a job, I am not without anything. All I have is angst and frustration over homework, and serving supper, and folding laundry, and feeling under appreciated and overworked and overlooked.  I have it so easy, and so very good right now… and yet, I allow myself to feel so overwhelmed and so overtaken by all if it sometimes. I am so blessed and so rich in comparison to the majority of the world… and yet here I am worrying about our finances and I am completely coming unglued over spelling words (for the five hundredth and tenth time).

“Wow, I almost missed this…” I repeated the words again as I watched the navy fade into the magic and blackness of the night, the traces of that early vibrance now gone, the gentle touch of God resting lightly on my shoulders.

What else have we have also missed because we were too busy, too distracted, too overwhelmed, too emotional, too busy looking inward at than outward for?  Too busy chasing, racing, and running. Too busy drowning in the noise, too busy ignoring in the overwhelm. Too busy fighting control in the day-to-day battles of life and survival in a fallen world.

Too busy letting satan in and letting satan win.

The beast of busy feeds and preys on every aspect of our lives. It leaves us empty, it leaves us numb, it leaves us bitter, it leaves us lonely, it leaves us broken, and emotional, and irrational. We live with a “suck it up buttercup” mentality which somehow seems to just leave us all hardened and hurting. We’re too scared to be real, honest, raw, vulnerable. We’re too selfish and driven to stop and realize life is so much more than about just ourselves. We’re propelling forward at a speed too fast to stop, too dangerous to slow.

But we must… oh how we need to carve out the silence, make time for the slow, take time for the retreat. We have to look up from our phones and away from our laptops long enough to see and taste all that which we are possibly missing. We need to breathe deep and just let a lot of it go.. the burdens, the expectations, the perfections. We need to learn to operate in the grace mode rather than the destruction mode

I drove away angry and falling apart… and arrived empty and a little lost. I sat in awe at the beauty, in overwhelm at the passing of time, and torn between the weight of the burdens I bear and the blessings I have showered upon me.  It's an odd and incredible and vastly emotional chasm to reside in.  It's selfish, it's selfless. It's lost, it's hope filled. It's filled with failure, it's filled with grace. It's filled with joy, it's filled with despair.

I almost missed this moment tonight… I almost missed all of this. But I didn’t, and I’m grateful.  Grateful, laced with a tiny bit of regretful.

I sit here in the black of the night wondering... Wondering about all the moments that we might miss. Wondering why we allow our days and time and attention to get so filled, so waylaid that we stop seeing, stop recognizing, stop observing.

What moments have we all already missed? What moments are we all going to proactively stop allowing to slip unnoticed through our fingertips?  No one else can actively change this within us except ourselves.  It is my prayer for myself, and for all of us, that we can continue to slow.  Continue to fill our selves and our souls.  Continue to look up, look out, look within, look without... without the distractions and devices that keep us so deprived and deceived. 

May we live a life of fullness and fulfillment.  May we live a life influential to others.  May we live a life of raw honesty and deep vulnerability... and grace... lots and lots of grace... especially for all those moments of manic mama meltdowns over spelling words and math flashcards.

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