The beauty that I love about my blog is this: I write when life swells
within me and inspiration spills apon my fingertips.
It is amazing as I look back at my entries, it is a scapbook of sorts,
to the road on which I travel in life. It is beautiful and full, tiring and
breath-catching.
Most every road that I have ever traveled on, from the open prairies
of Kansas, the coastline of Martha's Vineyard to the cliffs of Kauai,
the road meandered, curved and at times veered dangerously on a
hair-pin curve. Isn't this a picture of our lives?
Before we had children, my husband and I set out on a road trip.
Our eventual destination was to visit his family in the Bay area of
California. From Colorado, we headed west crossing through
beautiful and rugged mountains, green valleys and then we came
to dry, grayish-brown desert. My husband was tired and asked
if his bride would take the wheel for awhile as he climbed in the
back to take a nap.
Now that we have a quiver-full of children, that is no longer an option.
To keep from getting bored (or crazy) I looked at the time and milege
when my sweet husband layed down in the back and thought, "I wonder
how FAR I can get on the road before he wakes up". I know, crazy.
Because I have such a patient and merciful Lord and husband, we did not get in an accident, but I did cover ALOT of miles in the short time my husband napped. I don't reccomend this.
As I have thought about that trip, I have seen how I have done this "hurry-up-and-get-this-over-with" spill into other areas of my life. When the Lord blessed us with each of my children, at times, I couldn't wait till they reached the age that they could (fill in the blank). Or when we could afford to......I would have the time to.........
Could it be, that I have not been enjoying the current view out the window on the current road I travel?
One day, my preschooler will not find sheer joy in letting me hold her, count her little toes and sing to her. One day, my teen daughters will not be borrowing my earrings and the late-night talks will be replaced with the sounds of crickets. One day, my nine-year old son will not sit on the floor and re-inact a LEGO battle scene (with noises) for me.
Under His Wings,
Malinda B.
