Living Intentionally

(Have I used that title before? I think I've officially run out of things to say!)

Right, like that's going to stop me.

Anyhow, tonight, after an excruciating arsenic hour involving a red clay mudfight, greasy grout, and poop, I collapsed on the porch, my quivering hands around a scalding hot cup of coffee, and sighed. Quite loudly, might I add. (It could have been a stifled scream from the heat, but I'm pretty sure it was just a rigorous sigh.)

This is one of those nights I am absolutely exhausted, pummeled by the day and all that it presented. Yet the day is now done. The boys are in bed (well, most of them are in bed, Smidge seems to have gone Nomadic tonight). It's over. There are no more do-overs for today - for them, or for me. Whether I was prepared for today or not, it happened. It is now part of their lives, their memories, and their heritages. Did I blow it? Possibly. Could I have handled today differently? Certainly. Does any of that change the fact that these days come, and we know they'll come? No. So what do we do about it?

I think we need to live intentionally. That's the best thing we can do about it. We know (*know*) that each day will begin, whether we're prepared for it or not. We know that there will be meals to cook, disagreements to mediate, spills to mop, tasks to accomplish, and brows to kiss. The question is whether we are going to let the day propel us from one incident to another with nary a breath in between, or if we are going to accept that the day will come, embrace it, prepare for it, and do it on purpose, making sure that the direction of the day is guided by some force other than Chaos. (OK, that goal may be a bit lofty - let's shoot for "more days than not", shall we?)

Have you ever been to a beach that had waves? I'm talking surfing-style waves, here. If you don't know the waters, and haven't any idea which end is up on a surfboard, you don't want to just flail into the surf and hope for the best. There's stuff under that water that will rip. you. apart. And the waves don't stop coming, either. Whether you're on your feet or upside down with a chunk of coral jammed up your nose, here comes another wave. Once you're caught in the cycle unaware, it goes from awkward to painful to downright terrifying in just a few good washes over your tumbled head. Yet if you stand on the beach and watch the surfers get out there (or happen to be a surfer yourself), it's a whole different ballgame. They head out, intentionally, aware of what they're up against and familiar with the terrain. They know they could get knocked on their hind ends. They expect to, once in a while. But that's not the point: they've chosen to wade in and make the most of it. And they have a blast! I don't know about y'all, but I could learn a thing or two about that application.

I've fallen prey to one of the things I detest the most: the victim mentality. Ugh. It's disgusting. It's counterproductive. It does nothing to improve the situation, and still the days come, one after another. I know this. Yet I caved, anyway, and now we're all paying the price.

So here's my proposal: live intentionally. I will wake up accepting that whatever comes, I will need to don some form of support garment at some point in the day, so I'll just do it straight away and get that bit of tedium over with. I will go to bed the night before prepared to do that in the most pleasant way possible, rather than slumping into bed praying the alarm doesn't wake the boys in the morning. As a matter of fact, I think I'll lay out a clean cup by the coffee pot just as a little "good morning" treat.

I will set aside stories tonight that I would like to share with the boys tomorrow. I will think ahead of at least one thing they would enjoy doing that doesn't fall into the "taskmaster" category. I will talk with them over breakfast about our day, its plans and aims, and see if they have anything they'd like to add. Children can be wonderfully insightful, when we give them the chance.

I will provide the time to do the things that need to be done, but not in the sense that we often think of things that "need to be done". Not the wash. Not the scrubbing of the grout. Not that thing growing in the back of the fridge. The things that need, truly need, to be done: sharing the kitchen with the boys, making our reading together time a serious priority (possibly over meals, if necessary - we can always eat after the next chapter, or snack during an extra chapter), leaving early enough to stop at the park after our trip to the library.

If it's important, you make time for it. Time will continue its plodding pace with no regard for what we think we need to do, so we need to be intentional and precise about what we are going to do - and then do it.

These are things I know. I've known them for years. I've believed in them for years. I've lived them for years. What happened? I guess I didn't see one of those waves. And I forgot to pay attention, so it got more difficult to get my footing in the shifting sands. I probably stubbed my shin on some coral, too. None of this is irreparable, and none of it is drastic or traumatic. But you wouldn't guess that to look at me lately. And that, my friends, was not intentional. ;-)

So here is to tomorrow morning and a day that I cannot control, but one I can prepare for and welcome as it arrives. I might still end up screaming on my keister by suppertime tomorrow, but it won't have been a day-long fall to get there if I do. And the next day, it will be easier as we all remember what it's like to live intentionally.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy