There is that part of me that could reminisce of all that has transpired in the last year. And it is a lot, and it us unique to our family just as the past 365 days has been unique to all of us. And yet, on this last day of 2010, I was reminded that the things right in front of us should not be ignored, and just might be more than they appear.
This morning was "supposed" to be the start of a fabulous holiday weekend (since it was a Friday and we are all home together due to New Year's), a chance to sleep in a bit with my husband, cook a big breakfast, and focus on the task of preparing our basement to be finished as a school room and play room. Two whole days with absolutely no plans...the grocery shopping and errands were done, it was just US and our to-do list with ONE big item on it.
Instead, burning up with a fever, my husband stayed in bed while I got up early with our baby and grabbed a simple breakfast for each of the girls as they made their way downstairs. The morning proceeded to be a rather typical morning for the ladies' of the house (except that Daddy was a passed out lump on the sofa). Don't get me wrong, I was glad for his presence and sorry that he had to spend his day off fighting some virus.
Before the day really got going though, I lay on the love seat in the living room, trying to catch a bit more sleep while early riser Mikayla crawled around the living room making good use of each toy she could find. Hannah, typically the second little girl to wake up each day, joined us with a smile on her face and an obvious love for her baby sister as she sat down to give her hugs of love and play with her.
At some point, Hannah looked out the front door window (since all the blinds were still shut) and asked me,"Why is it not morning?" The darkness outside still confuses her a bit when we are awake before the sun has risen. And a short time later, she jumped up to use the bathroom. As she made her way to the mudroom where our downstairs bathroom is located, I can only imagine her face lighting up as I hear her exclaim, "Mommy, the colors! They are beautiful! Mommy do you see?" I knew very quickly that as she had walked out into the mudroom, where there is a double patio door with no window treatments to hide the morning sunrise, she was surprised with the splashes of bright color painted across the sky. I opened the blind from the living room to also enjoy the sight she was beholding, and explained to her that she was seeing the sunrise. Her response again came, "It is so beautiful."
It hit me that I had made a decision, (and I did think that I wasn't ready to let any light in the windows at that point of the morning) to keep the blinds closed because I wasn't ready to begin my day and accept the morning as it was coming. I wanted to be snuggled in bed and have my day start the way I had imagined it. But by doing so, I almost missed the beauty of the sunrise. Thankfully, it won't be the last sunrise that presents an array of dazzling color, but it was the only one today. And it happened to be the last one of the year. I pray that I will take notice of something as repetitious as the sunrise, and let it fill my heart with joy just as it did for Hannah. And I hope that I do not knowingly close the blinds to "another day" just because it doesn't unravel as I have imagined.
Later in the day, I was able to clean one of our upstairs bedrooms, and rearrange it so that our baby could finally move out of our bedroom and in with her big sister. It took some doing, and not without more than one interruption, but before making lunch it looked clean and put together. It always gives me peace to walk into a room that is in order.
Well, as proud as I was of the accomplishment, I suggested that my husband be sure to check it out and let me know what he thought. He did that just before dinner and didn't have a lot to comment about it. No big deal, it is certainly more satisfying for the one who put the work into something to look at it and feel the accomplishment of the task. Note that it was in an extreme state of disarray before I began.
So, at some point after dinner, I ventured back into the room, only to realize that it wasn't so put together anymore. Now, it was not even close to the disaster it had been half a day earlier, but there were more than a few toys out of place and strewn around the room. Just enough so that it was a bit messy, and NOT tidy. I continue to realize, that there is something irresistibly inviting about a clean room. And not just to adults who prefer things tidy and in their place, but also to children. Whenever there is a room or a table (or a big white side of a cabinet) that has a clean slate, it begs for a child to play there, or add color if need be. And of course the end result is a slate that is no longer so clean, and eventually they find another place that is more inviting.
I admit that my initial reaction was of disappointment and frustration, that already my masterpiece was askew. But I very quickly remembered that a "clean slate" isn't really a masterpiece at all. It is the messiness, the evidence of life and that someone was here that is the beautiful artwork of life.
Rolling into a New Year is one of those times when I especially long for a clean slate, a chance to restart things and initiate new routines and habits. New found motivation sets in for many of us as we hit the ground running when the calendar shows a different year. But the truth is, I am glad for the masterpiece that makes up my life. It might not be as beautiful as the colorful sunrise that greeted me this morning; in fact, it might be made up of more messes and a lot less order than I would like. But it is filled with the color of my five little blessings, the princesses that call me "Queen Mommy" as well as my handsome "King Daddy." And I could not ask for more as we get closer to ringing in 2011.
