I really wanted pizza.
And to not cook. Or do
dishes. Daddy came home and eyed me
paging through my amazing new cookbook he gave me just the day before. He didn’t even laugh at the irony when I told
him I wanted to order Papa Johns. He
voted for Chinese take-out. Who am I to
argue- I was getting a night off.
The last time we ordered Chinese take-out must have been at
least five years ago. Neither one of us
could remember for sure. We taught Little Man how to make his Mu Shoo roll and how to bite into a fortune cookie. I laughed when I opened mine.
“Life is a gift, don’t waste it.”
Could there be a more perfect fortune for me, Little Miss
Carpe Diem, over here? I decided to keep
it.
A few nights later, I came out of the baby’s room, flush
with frustration and anger at Daddy and Little Man for laughing so loudly that she
woke up and wouldn’t go back to sleep. I
lashed out at them both, handed the crying girl to Daddy as punishment and
stormed around the room cleaning up the toys littering the dog hair covered
floors that desperately need vacuuming and washing. But not before I do the
dishes. And the laundry. And scrub the tub out. The never ending list scrolling through my
head coupled with the kids who were happily laughing with their daddy on the
couch almost pushed me over the edge.
“IT IS PAST BEDTIME,” I was screaming in my mind as I flung the last toy
into the basket as angrily as I could, obviously trying to drag everyone else
down with me.
And then I saw it.
Putting the last book away on the shelf, I saw the fortune there on the ledge,
under the picture of my Jameson. “Life
is a gift, don’t waste it,” it quietly said back to me. I was still so angry. Why?
When did I become the one who puts the chores and the rules ahead of the
family and the fun? When did I forget to
Carpe Diem? I looked up from that
innocent little fortune on the ledge into my son’s eyes and instantly felt my
anger turn.
Hadn’t I learned anything about what really matters in this
world? Did I forget that easily just
how much I have to be thankful for and how important it is to cherish these
memories and these good times? Nights
like this when Little Man and Jameson were little are some of the best memories I
carry in my heart now that my J is gone.
How could I, of all people, already forget to see the Joy instead of the
list?
“Life is a gift, don’t waste it.”
This is not news to me.
Since my son died 22 months ago, I have made that my mantra. My blog is called Harvesting Joy, for
goodness sake. And yet in two minutes
flat I went from thanking God for the baby in my arms to having an ugly tantrum
for no reason whatsoever.
Sigh.
I think back to those first days after the funeral, when we
first came home and it was so quiet and empty and it was so easy to fall into
the black hole. We knew that we had to
make a choice. We had to be intentional
about how we were going to live, act, be.
Because feelings are unpredictable and untrustworthy. And we refused to let his death take the
meaning out of his life and our lives.
Not long after that, I started reading Ann Voskamp’s book, One Thousand
Gifts. She confirmed everything I was
thinking about living intentionally and also challenged me to not only look for
the joy that is already there, but to create joy through thanksgiving.
It was good to be reminded that there is always something to
be thankful for. Even when your son dies
at three. Even when you are constantly
fighting the pull of the black hole for the sake of your remaining son. Even when you feel you have nothing left,
there is always something to be thankful for.
And thanksgiving creates joy.
I’ve tried it; it works.
When I’m overwhelmed with my loss and the black hole looms near, I say
thanks for his life, no matter how short.
When the dog hair is rolling across the floors like tumbleweed, I say
thanks for my vacuum. And my dogs. When the dishes are overflowing in the sink
and the laundry piles waiting to be folded are bigger than my couch, I thank
the Lord that we have more than enough.
We are always seeing something; either the positive or the
negative. And it is our choice to make
every.single.time.
Fast forward to my temper tantrum and I’m obviously not
living out my intentions as well as I’d like.
When I look back on these times, I don’t want the memories to look like
this. I don’t want to be one who was
always so busy worrying about the chores and rules that I can’t remember the
laughter and the snuggles. Instead, I
want to see these moments as little gifts from God; these special moments of
staying up too late, the snuggling together can either be the treasure or the
curse. And only I can make that
choice.
The story of Jesus visiting Martha and Mary is a great
example to me in either seeing the treasure or the burden.
As Jesus and the disciples continued on their way to Jerusalem,
they came to a village where a woman named Martha welcomed them into her home.
Her sister, Mary, sat at the Lord's feet, listening to what he taught. But
Martha was worrying over the big dinner she was preparing. She came to Jesus
and said, "Lord, doesn't it seem unfair to you that my sister just sits
here while I do all the work? Tell her to come and help me." But the Lord
said to her, "My dear Martha, you are so upset over all these details!
There is really only one thing worth being concerned about. Mary has discovered
it -- and I won't take it away from her." –Luke 10:38-42 NLT
Mary and Martha were both in the same boat. Yet they approached the situation so
differently. Poor Martha just couldn’t
see the gift and she greatly missed out on the treasure. I don’t want to go through the rest of my
life as a Martha, always seeing the burdens and missing out in the
treasures. I desperately want to
experience the gifts Jesus has laid out before me. I choose to seek joy.
I’m far from perfect and know that I’ll fail at times. But I’m so thankful for the gentle reminder
from God, who even speaks through Chinese take-out.
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