Back in October, my extended family left for our annual family vacation. This is a trip in which I have not participated for the last 8ish years, and somehow–that week–not being there felt different. In some ways I felt the same familiar ache of living so far away, but in others there was a decided resolve in it. A resolve that [despite my deepest heart yearnings to be with those who loved me first] I would not wallow, but would instead choose to be present.
I realize that this may sound trite or over-popularized. One night during that week, I was invited into several different scenarios and thus felt torn in many directions. But there was[for reasons I can’t explain] an echo of that same longing I knew too well and had battled continually. I wanted nearness. I wanted familial intimacy. I wanted to remember the warmth of being known and loved, no matter what. I desperately wanted to be in multiple places, but I knew that they needed me. They being my precious ones. Daddy was out of town, and I sensed this rare opportunity to just be with them.
Also during that beach week—while my family was far away, I felt the pressure of being home–the constant need to be doing dishes, laundry, cooking meals…not to mention investing emotionally, spiritually and physically in the lives of my little tribe[including nurturing littles who need thoughtful, biblical redirection hourly…sometimes moment-by-moment!]…Some days I do feel weary…and often over-stimulated to a sinful point. But I set apart this day–amidst my own personal weariness–to cherish them.
So we went to the movies. Since there are 6 members of our family, this is a rare occurrence. At home in our daily mundane, I saw my own familiar ache in their little eyes and heard it in countless moments of frustration. Getting out of the house just made sense. So we did it. We journeyed over an hour’s length to see a special movie unavailable in our area, and enjoyed popcorn and candy while lounging in reclining movie seats[a luxury in and of itself]. It was loud and a little chaotic, but joyfully so. My littlest bounced up and down in the seat and eventually landed in my arms, my son grinned from ear to ear providing colorful commentary(which worked better since few others were seated among us) and my big girls beamed. Afterwards we indulged in Chik-fil-a[a personal favorite, though not all of my babes share my enthusiasm].
There was something sacred in it, I think. Not in the movie or the fried chicken. But in the prompt to seize the hours. Because for the first time in a long time, I didn’t concern myself with chores or the daily to-do list. I didn’t worry about what wasn’t accomplished or our present messiness. I just enjoyed them. We just enjoyed each other, in fact.
This was a needed reminder to me of Zephaniah’s words in chapter 3:
The Lord your God is with you, the Mighty Warrior who saves. He will take great delight in you; in his love he will no longer rebuke you, but will rejoice over you with singing.
Zephaniah 3:17
Although these words were written to the people of Judah, the beauty of the Word is it’s accuracy, relevance and reliability. The Lord’s authoritative voice is just as true and definitive as it was then.
In the busyness of motherhood, I often forget to delight. But the Lord–in His holy perfection–does not. Somehow He simultaneously upholds and rules while also harboring an intimate knowledge of his beloved. And so–in the same vein that He is both concerned and connected with all of my needs, longings and shortcoming–He is also just enjoying me. What’s more, he is singing[some versions add loudly] over me!
These precious ones are growing so quickly. And this day back in October was ordinary–like most of my days–but the Lord used those mundane moments to bring me[yet again] to recall His goodness and the personal call to reflect upon the sweetness in watching how He redeems ordinary.
Redeeming the Mundane 