When Things Could Be so Much Better Pic

You know you've been gone too long, when your bed doesn't feel like your bed anymore. It's taken a bit for Meg to adjust to being home again and recover from the trip. She continues to have severe pain episodes, and it's apparent when her cranial pressure fluctuates high during the day. She's comforted by the normalcy of home, and being back with Evan again.

There are days God has a bigger sense of adventure than I do. On our way home, more things went wrong, than they did right.

I should have known having to get up so early, when we hadn’t been sleeping well, and mornings weren’t going good, would be a terrible idea. Being overly optimistic, is a horrible way to be.

I arrived at the airport, dragging 4 bags of luggage, a carseat, and holding onto Meg. There was not a cart to be seen. "Great. Just great", I thought. I had to leave my bags sitting alone, and make multiple trips. Had airport security picked me up and transferred my luggage for inspection…I would have thanked them.

Inside the terminal, without a minute to spare, I realized our confirmation email had the wrong terminal listed. How is that possible? I don’t know, but the wrong letter can use 45 precious budgeted minutes, I found out.

Getting to our gate, I was exhausted. The energy the women across from us had, caught my attention. Sure, they weren’t traveling with a kid, and probably had more sleep the night prior than I had all week. But there was something else about them. They were in heels, their makeup perfected, with diamonds large enough to offset the weight of their Starbucks they held in their hands. No doubt their luggage sitting beside them, contained color coordinated clothing, in the season’s hottest colors…I wondered why I wore a t-shirt.

Here I thought I was doing good, packing my yoga pants and wearing jeans. Sitting there, I felt like I didn’t quite add up.

In lieu of their Coach bags, on my arm hung a Thirty-One bag…stuffed with entertainment and snacks for a 5 year old. Barbie’s hair hung over the side, and I wouldn’t be surprised if we left a trail of crayons. It may as well had been a diaper bag.

They looked great, amazing, and beautiful.

I’ve never been one plagued with jealousy, but seeing them made me stop and look at myself.

What made me feel sick inside wasn’t so much my jeans and tennis shoes. It wasn’t my trashed nails or fallen hair. It was knowing they were organized. Their lives were organized. They probably planned around work and events, while I write down drs appointments on my calendar, never knowing what tomorrow will bring. The small agenda’s I do have, are usually upended. Deciding I was happier without frustration, I decided to just go with it. Whatever “it” happens to be.

What I really saw when I looked at them, was an easier life. Who knows if this is even the case, but to me, it seemed so. I began to wonder what it would be like to feel that, just for a while. At this point I should have chosen gratitude. Being hot, tired, and stressed, is never a good combination for me. It’s hard to choose gratitude when feeling slighted.

Maybe satan dresses in women’s clothes…in fact, I’m quite certain he must sometimes. I started wondering why my life couldn’t be easier…as though life has so much more to offer…and God is holding out on me.

Meg interrupted my thoughts, informing me her head hurt. She slung her jacket on the armrest, sand falling out of a pocket.

Meg noticed the sand on her chair and used her hand to brush it off. Outstretching her sand covered palm, she stared down at it. I waited, expecting to hear her request to go to the bathroom (one more time), but I was surprised. Slowly drawing her fingers back, cupping the sand in her palm…she beamed. “Isn’t life beautiful Mama?” she asked.

It wasn’t another thing to deal with, it wasn’t an inconvenience, and it didn’t make life any harder. Instead of feeling irritated, or wondering why I hadn’t noticed and washed her jacket, she felt the beauty. She held on and smiled, knowing it’s part of something bigger, wonderful, and fun. The beauty wasn’t the sand in her hand, it was the beach she carried.

Pulling her onto my lap, I knew God isn’t holding out on me. Not in this time, this life, or for eternity. What I carry may be heavy, and have "mom" written all over, but what I hold, is a part of His beauty.

He has made everything beautiful in it's time...     Ecclesiastes 3:11