Of Learning To See

The light.

 It leaks gently into the room. I can see how it fringes out the window and my eyes flutter back closed. This is good. I think. This lying still and resting. His sleep-breathing sounds like ocean waves next to me. Rhythmic. Familiar. Comforting. 

Maybe I should get up. I know the list of things that needs to be accomplished around here; it taunts from the back of my mind. It's telling me that if we don't wake up and start working on things, then somehow we're failing. Somehow it's spinning a lie that constant productivity equals worth. And somehow I'm caught, all tangled, in that? Unless….

I stop. I observe what's happening now. It causes my heart to beat slower, calmer.  I remind myself that, with the baby coming, days like this are quickly slipping like water through my open fingers. If I don't stop to enjoy them now, they'll fall all too soon into the current and be swept away. 

It makes me sad, yes. But my breath is stolen with the fleeting grace of entering into this moment. I believe what makes some things so beautiful is how temporary they are. Like our first kiss, when he cupped my face gently and slowly brought my lips to his. I can still see it all clearly. The way his eyes were dancing and laughing and inviting me to join in. It all happened so fast but, there it is, imprinted on my mind forever because of the power of it's ephemeral beauty. 

This is another holy moment like that.

No, there's not any thrilling details or rip-roaring story here. It's just ordinary life happening. Wonderful, grace-filled, marvelously ordinary life. And I choose not to miss it. I tell myself that yes, there's still time to be productive and tackle that to-do list. But right now? I'm entering into this moment and and letting the full weight of it press near to my soul. I touch his hand and smile at his mess of dark curls. Time seems to slow as the radiance of all this seeps in with it's gloriously still fragrance. 

Oh, to live fully aware, Father. Give me eyes opened wide and wondering.

 It's hard for me to stop. Or rather, it's hard for me to be ok with stopping. But I'm learning--oh, so slowly!---that not only is it alright to stop all things and enjoy the one thing that's happening right in front of me, but it's needed as well. I'm learning to put down the phone. To turn off the camera. To stop talking. To stop doing. To stop 'the glorification of busy' and simply let Jesus show me how to enjoy His gift of life.

Please don't hear what I'm not saying. I'm not saying this concept is to be used as an excuse to be lazy. In the ebb and flo of life, there are times of hard work, and pushing yourself and being wildly, diligently productive. I'm a firm believer in the need for that. But if that's all I do, than I miss these holy moments. I find myself looking back with regret because I only observed them casually instead of experiencing them for the absolute joy that Jesus designed them to be. 

Lord willing, we will be meeting our son in a very short while. Life for us will never be the same in such a wondrous, hard, joyful, challenging way. We're ready for it but please excuse us as we take time to enjoy one another in these last days of 'just us'. We're not dreading adding our baby to this life of ours but there's no way that this transition wasn't going to be a little bittersweet. 

So, in light of all that, we're sleeping in together on some days just because we can, reassuring each other a lot and realizing how absolutely thrilled we are that we have each other, especially now. The sink may have some dirty dishes in it, and the other guest room isn't finished like I hoped it would be, but I wouldn't trade these moments and how we're savoring them for anything.


"This looking and not seeing things was a great sin, I thought, and one that was easy to fall into. It was always the beginning of something bad and I thought that we did not deserve to live in the world if we did not see it."
-Ernest Hemmingway