They are snuggled on the couch, all in pajamas still, watching their cartoons on this gray morning. The kitchen smells of fresh juice and coffee. Apple, orange, carrot and cucumber for the morning; carrot, sweet potato, beet, and apple for lunch. I’m out of half and half for my coffee so the baby’s whole milk will have to do. My fingers peck at the laptop, even though the kitchen counters and floor are fighting for my attention. So much to do today – schedules, trainings, birthday parties to plan and preparations for the first day of school. But my fingers keep typing, one key at a time, transforming the swirling in my head onto words on a screen.
We received a text message, (was it just a day ago?), “Brenna, I need you.” He left them, he scared them. This afternoon I bake a cake and prepare a meal, hoping to provide a few hours of comfort to the heart sick. We will be your family.
So, so much to do. But there always is, isn’t there? Not just for me, but for you too. For all of us. Always feeling busy, never enough.
This weekend I took three whole hours for myself. It’s the longest I’ve been without my kids all summer. Two quick errands and then time at the gym. For the first time in recent memory it was welcomed. I knew the reward at the end of the pain. The steam room. Ten minutes (I greedily stole twenty) of uninterrupted time.
I sat on the hot stones, wrapped in white towels, watching the water drip off of the ceiling. Pink splotches on my skin where it lands. Breathe in. Breathe out. I feel the impurities of my body begin to sweat out of my skin. Breathing begins to slow. I feel quiet.
The silence leads me to prayer. I sweat out the impurities of my soul. The hardness in my heart begins to melt. I watch my sweat roll off my legs and hit the stone below. I close my eyes and just breathe in the hot, moist air. If I stay here long enough, I might be able to hear Him.
Here, in this room, I can push out the thinking, the knowing that it’s not enough. I don’t have enough time. Not enough energy. Not enough fun. My mothering. My partnering. My teaching. My writing.
I've been calling out and no one hears. I want it to be good (enough?).
I hate this word enough. I don’t want enough.
I want abundance.
I want plenty.
I want overflow.
“For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.” (Matthew 12:34b)
But for now, it does have to be enough. For I have girls to cuddle, parties to plan, schedules to finalize, cakes to bake, floors to mop, counters to clean, and air to breathe.