Waiting for the Light: Nurturing Perspective at Home
My boys slammed the door to the living room, “You don’t want to go in there,” said Jordan, half kidding, but completely serious. I heard the vacuum running and the tinkle of ornaments. The boys emerged with damp towels (I assume from cleaning up water) and closed the door again behind them.
The tree fell over today. And yes, there were ornament casualties. As I write this, I still haven’t ventured in for a look. Jordan told me only a few broke. He even offered to show me the trash can evidence.
“Don’t show me. I won’t miss what’s gone if I don’t know,” I said. And that’s the truth of it in a nutshell.
I had planned to do a “Waiting For The Light” series this season. All deep and beautiful with nods to the quiet moments, filled with candlelight and breathless wonder of the season.
Instead, I found myself throwing frozen chicken strips in the oven and microwaving frozen corn for dinner.
My husband, “I see you punted.” He is frequently amused by calling me out on my perfectionist tendencies, and he only rubs the salt in the wound more because, I mean, who doesn’t love fried chicken?
“The truth is that no one in my family cares what the tree looks like, except for me. This makes me grateful and angry at the same time. My family can teach me a lot about being thankful. They’re just happy to sit down to a hot dinner. And the truth is that part of my own soul’s need is to give that to them.”
Indeed, completely unfazed by the toppled tree, my husband sat down quite happily to microwaved dinner and crispy processed goodness.
What is your greatest, most fundamental desire in life?
Let’s set aside the whole, “I am woman hear me roar” thing. I’m already that, and my family knows it. My greatest desire is to show up for them. Each day, as best as I can. I consider frozen dinner a failure, and they don’t — they just want me.
I guess the “waiting for the light” lesson for today is to rest into what the darkness of winter is saying: SLOW DOWN.
I still haven’t slowed down yet. Today, I was forced into slowness by Perdue and the Green Giant.
The risk of attaching self-worth to our deeds
When we assign our own value or self-worth to our accomplishments (or lack thereof) we set ourselves up for failure. It’s doubly hard when you make a living selling the home decor version of perfection.
I’ve got news: it doesn’t exist. You can have the best of the best and still lack the greatest needs of your heart. Please read that again.
This is why I am truly thankful for a warm home that can hold me right now; a family that doesn’t care about decorations or frozen dinners; and extra candles in the drawer. We need homes that help us live — especially through the times of imperfection — which is pretty much always. Wouldn’t you agree?