I’ve never been a good traveler. At the age of 2, I’m told I jumped up and down on my mom’s lap from California to Colorado.
I still don’t like to sit still, especially when I can’t get somewhere fast enough.
Last week, I mentioned I had gone away for the weekend to spend time with friends. As always, I underestimated my drive time. The way home was even worse because the wait to cross the Canadian border to return to the States took more than an hour. Every moment in the driver’s seat there and back seemed to be going by at a glacial pace. By the time I arrived home, I was exhausted. My daughter was already asleep. My sweet husband was waiting to carry in my luggage. I could not wait to climb into my own bed.
Sometimes, we have to step away to realize the beauty in the places we spend our everyday moments. You can find it in the 100th peanut butter sandwich you’ve constructed, the 40th boo boo kissed and every spill cleaned up. It isn’t always obvious, it’s often hidden behind the mundane, the daily tasks and the must-dos of life. I’m learning to see the value in the things I often dread.
The long drive by myself was worth it to connect with women, who I trust with my heart. Then it was the trip home, knowing I have people to share my life with. Lately, I see dirty dishes as a sign we are well fed. Getting up too early means I have work to help provide for my family.
Being a grown-up is hard. Taking responsibility for other lives is even harder. As moms, we need to learn the gift of perspective. The sooner we see things in a better light, the sooner we can move through our days seeing the joy of really living.