Turning a Page

So. I'm feeling pretty pleased with myself right now. I hope you don't mind, but I'd like to take a minute and savor the moment... Yeah, I changed the calendar today. I know, I know. It's impressive, right? We're approaching mid-November, and I just kissed October goodbye. This is who I've become.

In July, I was reading Liturgy of the Ordinary, by Tish Harrison. Since the beginning of the year I'd felt the Spirit's prompting me to take my time, live in the moment, renounce busyness and be more intentional in my relationships. I wanted to do more than make memories; I wanted to cherish them. Today, the chaos in my life is such, I just realized I have an appointment today..

It seems busyness is all I know. So much so -- and this is where my ex-husband and children will appreciate this post more than anyone -- I have a single shoe sitting by the back door. And you know what? I do NOT care where the other one is.

I was missing a Tupperware lid the other day. "It'll turn up," I said to myself, and closed the cabinet door.

As I put the two-year old to bed last night, I noticed the fragrance of peanut butter wafting through the air. It was then I realized he had it in his hair. "See you in the morning."

We spent almost $10 on a pint of organic chili that no one liked. Rather than trying to doctor it up or stomach it myself, I threw it out. My frugal German nature never even spoke up.

The children's toy basket contains cars without wheels and dolls without clothes. I'm chalking it up to creative license.

The sixteen-year old put her Christmas playlist on as we ran errands the other day. Christmas carols before November had even hit the double digits? (Although, the calendar at the Murphy's was still reading "October.") Sacrilege! Nope, we laughed and sang all around town. Not once did Old Me ever whisper, "Must be nice to be sixteen and have the kind of time to put playlists together." In fact, it was then I realized, I need this in my life!

The friends who call "just to talk," the people of all ages and sizes who just refuse to see things as I do, the moments that don't remotely resemble my vision for them, the activities that yield nothing I can cross off a "Honey Do" list, the people who make time for playlists and video games and drives to nowhere. These are the people, these are the things that cause me to live in the moment. It is the single shoes and the naked Barbies that remind me what is really important. I could spend hours fretting over how things look or how they are supposed to be, or I can live in the moment. I can let go of what I think in favor of what is important to others. I can do something fun and frivolous -- or simply appreciate it -- for the sake of changing the dynamic of the things I believe are necessary.

I can measure my days in calendar pages, or moments seeing life as others see it.