The Upside of a Down Day

Most mornings I roll out of bed and hit the ground running. Walking just isn't an option when you're trying to juggle eight plus kids (adopted and foster), one full-time job, one budding side-business, church work, volunteer work, a husband's budding business, housework, and the ever-growing network of extended family and friends. I plan speeches while brushing my teeth and practice them while folding laundry. I draft letters while cooking meals. I make mental to-do lists while driving. I start my day like a racehorse at the gates--fidgety, pumped, and ready to fly.

However, every once in awhile there are mornings when the gun fires, the starting gates swing back, the racers bolt forward, and I can do nothing more than gaze after them. I hang my head like a tired old mare while the dust hits my face and an irritated jockey hurls insults down on me. Feeling like a total and complete failure, I seek out the blessed solitude of my stall for the remainder of the day.

Over the years of up day/down day cycles, God has taught me how to better deal with them and yes, even be blessed by them. For one thing, I've learned how to predict when they're coming. I know I'm headed for a down day after dealing with several physically or emotionally taxing events within quick succession of each other. Following a difficult situation a down day is sure to appear. Sometimes new situations will also trigger a down day. As long as I am human, down days are inevitable.

But there is an upside. While I won't score major points for accomplishments done on a down day, I do get a much needed opportunity to simply stop and smell the roses. On down days, I move more slowly so I see things I don't normally see when my feet are pounding the track at 40 mph while I strain towards the finish line. The flowers look prettier. The clouds look puffier. My children look sweeter. My list of goals on a down day are also downsized. They consist of snuggling with my kids, petting the cats, reading a book, making a friendly phone call, playing the piano, or praying for no particular purpose. It's a day to put my responsibilities aside and just be. It's a day for counting my blessings.

Today is a down day, but, I'm not at all depressed about it. I'm thankful for this opportunity to rest and recharge my batteries. Tomorrow will be a new day. The alarm will ring. I'll roll out of bed fidgety, pumped, and ready to fly. Eat my dust!

Dear Mother Eve...

Last night, after dropping off Andie and Billy at their gymnastics class, Maya and I headed out on a short  shopping trip. We never made it. Instead, I ended up having conversations with two homeless men. I did what I could to meet their immediate needs (bus money and dinner at Taco Bell), but their faces haunt me. How did they end up in this condition? Where are their families? What went wrong? My thoughts swirled back through time and I had to ask the age old question. However, I was surprised at the conclusion at which my musings arrived.

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Dear Mother Eve,

I am one of the many daughters you have never known. I am one of the many children you could not see on that fateful day in paradise. I am one of the countless descendants damned by your decision. And my voice swells with the dusty cry of generations gone by asking, "Why? Why did you do it?"

When you wandered from Adam's side, did you not know that thousands of your children would someday be wandering throughout the ages to come? Homeless sons and daughters looking for shelter in the most the most despicable of places. Selling their bodies in order to gain a morsel of bread, they are but living skeletons longing for the warmth of a real home.

Flattering words drew you to a forbidden tree. When you followed that enticing voice, did you not hear the cry of millions of your children who would soon be betrayed by that same voice? Empty promises and whispered lies uttered by that shameless silvery tongue continue to break the hearts and wound the souls of your descendants.

You gazed at a fruit and longed to touch it. You savored the momentary sweetness of disobedience and for that moment you were satisfied. But, oh, Mother Eve, could you not see your future children with distended bellies, sunken eyes, and listless bodies welcoming the cold embrace of Death?

But, alas, all my questionings fall on deaf ears. Your own body has fallen victim to the consequences of your transgression and been reclaimed by the dust from which you were once created. You have seen some of the bitter fruits of your sin and with all the strength of a mother's love tried to turn the tide of evil. But you could not.

Today, I can only point the accusing finger inward. I must probe the darkest recesses of my own heart and ask myself, "Is there some sin I now enjoy which will someday cause my children and grandchildren to suffer?" The decisions I make today outline the paths upon which my children will later walk. God give me wisdom to make those paths as smooth as possible.

Separation Anxiety

Next week Maya and I leave for Georgia. Andie and Billy will head to Oregon. Shawn, Ally, and Nikki will remain at home. Next week I will be a wreck.

Statistics show that the majority of accidents occur rather near the premises of your own home. In spite of that comforting knowledge, I tend to fall apart a little at the thought of my family being separated. I begin to worry. Will the kids be okay? Will some terrible accident end their lives or injure them horribly? Andie and Billy are teenagers now. Nikki and Ally will be with Daddy. They should all be fine. "But," my mind agonizes, "there are big, bad people in this world and big, bad catastrophes that destroy hundreds of lives daily."

Strangely enough, the one person I'm not worried about is Maya. Why? She'll be with me. And with that thought, I have to suddenly rethink this whole separation anxiety thing. What is so special about being with me?! What can I do to save or protect Maya from harm's way that God cannot do for the rest of my family? Is He not capable of watching over my loved ones? Does He not ask me to trust Him in ALL things -- especially those closest to my heart?

When the dust settles after my battle with choosing to trust, I make the very conscious decision to gather up my worries and deposit them into the omnipotent hands of my Heavenly Father. He will take care of us all just fine ... without my help.