I get so caught up in duty.
My things-to-do list.
Sneaking in time to read and write.
I often push off to the side the big stuff...
Like a husband who loves me and wants me to sit on the porch with him at night with a drink and without my laptop.
Like a daughter who wants me to watch her dance and sing to this week's VBS songs.
Like a son who wants to get a laugh (and utter dismay) out of me by running up to me and shouting, "JAYHAWK!"
Like a dog who would really just like me to sit and stroke her soft fur for a minute or two.
Why can't I just be? Why can't I just take a deep breath in...and a deep breath out...and just be with the people I love so much? Why do I spend so much time calculating in my head how much time it is going to take to clean up the fort that has overtaken my living room? Why do I grudgingly tear myself away from my to-do list when Amélie wants me to play with her? Why do I tap my foot with impatience as Jack takes forever to pick out the perfect M&M after going potty? Why does my mind immediately jump to the pile of dishes in the sink when Matt asks me to sit with him on the porch and wait for the smoking, eye-patched old guy who bikes down our street every night?
I live in my head. I think. A lot. But often there is a disconnect between my head and my heart.
When Jack runs to me with his arms up, I want to bend down, scoop him up, revel in the weight of his precious body in my arms, bury my nose in his sweaty little head, and breathe.
When Amélie wants me to watch yet another performance, I want to stop what I am doing, sit, truly watch her, applaud her, and then wrap her up in a big, long hug.
When Matt wants me to come take a tour of our garden to show me what is blooming and sprouting and growing, I want to push my list aside, walk outside barefoot, and wiggle my toes in the dirt as we explore the eggplant blossoms, the pollinating corn, and the wide faces of our towering sunflowers.
That is what I want to do. That is what I want to be. Present. Engaged. Mindful. In love. Loving.