Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Waiting for the Light to Change
The red light. I waited anxiously for it to change. The list of errands for children, myself, and who ever else happened to squeeze in my life hung from the rear view mirror in front of me.
Something new caught my eye. Something I had seen thousands of times before. Yellow streams of fluttering leaves made a beautiful entrance beyond the lights. I was caught up in the wonder and beauty of this ordinary, common and frequent visitor. My attention soaked in the world that metamorphosized all around me. This beauty was all around me and I have been missing it all together - waiting for the light to change.
My life could be summed up in that simple act of waiting for the light to change. The lists of what I had to accomplish or had to become always hung in the rare view mirror of my mind. My life was either about what I had lost or what I was going to create. Moments would slip away unnoticed and discarded. They were uncomfortable to me because I was neither what I once was or what I was going to be. I saw my forward facing stance as ambition, determination, and perseverance. My backward glances I saw as reminders of what I was made of. This mental shuffling left little for the moments in between. I was uncomfortable in the moments. Minute after minute life slipped away unnoticed.
Facing motherhood and life alone meant that my list for the future cascaded in the damp memory of my mind. I am at a place without a map for my dreams and plans. Not because I am despondent or disillusioned but because I hadn't thought of this moment. This place is where dreams meet the past and the future is like the point at the edge of the world. There is nothing here but at the same time there is everything. I don't have a bucket list of plans. I am neither looking to the future to satisfy nor am I rummaging through the past to pacify. Instead I can enjoy filling an afternoon with bubbling pots of love ready to nourish. I can sit in an evening of prayers sent up to heaven by my children. I am content to watch the happy yellow winged trees make an entrance.