One of my many weaknesses is my desire to live in a “planning,” not “living” world. Planning is so freeing because you can imagine everything happening so perfectly. You have complete control. “Living” your plans is fraught with changes, rain, burnt toast, and tantruming children. And though I say I like to plan, in the past even that has been frustrating to the perfectionist within me because I obsess over too many tiny details, waste too much time, and find myself in a frenzy after hours of drilling too deep into one idea and researching every scrap of information or creative idea on the internet in that vein. Exhausting.
Sometimes I let all the voices on the internet and in my life fill my head with so many ideas that I forget to consult me, who does have some experience with herself and this family. And to consult Him, who knows all.
For the last couple weeks I’ve been working on a summer plan for me and the kids. I can’t say every moment of my planning was effective, or that I didn’t *start* to obsess about things that didn’t matter. But I did try to tune into what I feel my family needs, and let that direct the fleshing out of the plans.
Another weakness of mine is overinvolvement. However, in the last year, the Lord has sent me several walls. Walls so high that they are impossible to climb, with 20 feet of barbed wire on the top. Making it literally impossible for me to keep going at the rate I’ve been going. Sometimes that’s what it takes. I have made drastic cuts in my commitments. Its been humbling. Embarrassing. Disappointing. Relieving.
Our summer plans are simple. Very very simple. I just want to remember how good it feels to tune out the noise, and listen to what I know my family needs. And how simple joy requires lots of space to happen. At least that’s how it seems to work in my life.
Today we woke and immediately hopped on our bikes. The bike ride happened at 7:45 am because the temperature was 75 degrees, which became 95 in a few short hours. An aside -- I got a bike last week!!! We also got a trailer for Tucker.
I never learned how to ride a bike until Freeman spent an entire DAY in our early marriage teaching me. That was 5 years ago, and I didn’t know if I’d be able to stay up. But I did. We rode to a pond in Lantana, and ate our cream of wheat in Tupperware containers. Lantana is a funny place. It is clean, safe, and beautiful. But people don’t do things like eat a Tupperware full of cream of wheat on a bench by the pond that was meant to beautify a neighborhood, but never really intended for someone to nature adventure around it. Oh well. I like to nature adventure, and I’m getting used to feeling like I do most things differently than the rest of Lantana.
The kids were in heaven. We mooed at the cows in the pasture behind the pond, and tromped around like we owned the place. Biking home, we passed several homes being built. One was having its foundation poured. One was being framed. And another was being bricked out by a band of workers. We parked between the foundation and bricked home and the kids watched the homes come together, one tiny piece at a time. We were there for 10 minutes. We were in no hurry. Then home to scriptures, “fun list” (chores for the day), and free time.
We were headed for the pool when we got a call from a friend, and had to run an errand for my calling.
After that we packed up and went to swim. Lantana really does have lovely pools. Our favorite has a beach entry, is small, and at its deepest is only 4 feet deep. A delightful family visiting from California armed us with waterguns and challenged us to a fight. We were a little rowdy. Tucker toddled around the beach entry, thrilled. He kept bending over and exclaiming "Laler!" (water) and then planting his face in the water and slurping it up. Gross. None of my "Yucky, Tucker, yucky" chidding stopped him. He probably drank half a gallon over 2 hours. We ate an entire pound of pretzels, and large tupperware of watermelon. We only left when we began to drag. We showered, combed our hair, clipped our nails. We had chips and guacamole for dinner, did our big 5 for nighttime, and read a few books. That wonderful heaviness that only comes after lots of physical exertion settled over us, and an hour before bedtime, not one of us could rise from the couch.
I nagged and spoke sharply several times today. I felt whole-body exhausted after swimming and showers. My rice cooker broke and ruined my planned dinner. Two friends from the ward walked through my lovely home that looks like a bomb went off in it. Anslie tantrumed more times that I can count.
But. It was a perfect day. What more could I ask.
It feels so good to feel grateful. I have wasted too much time not allowing gratitude to lift me. Sometimes life seems too hard, to ugly, and I think joy can't possibly exist. That's a lie. Joy is always possible because gratitude is always possible.
