The Benefits of Boredom

We didn't go anywhere on Spring Break this year.  As the academic year winds down, I realize that we've had no less than six weeks off school, in addition to a number of teacher furlough days.  If our family traveled every time there was a school holiday, we would surely be in the poor house.  Of course, I'm perfectly okay with that.  As a mom of four kids ages 4-12, I'm never bored.  My four kids ages 4-12, however, are always bored.

I didn't even realize that we were the only ones home this week until I got on Facebook and saw everyone's beach vacation pictures.  Now, there's something that will take the wind right out of your sails.  I was sitting there all content catching up on my laundry and spring de-cluttering when all of a sudden I realized that the rest of the world was lolling the day away in a sunny paradise.  I thought, We have to do something!  The kids can't go back to school on Monday after having been home all week!  What will they write about when the teacher asks them to take out their journal and compose the dreaded theme:  "What I Did on Spring Break"?.

But the thing is--we really didn't go anywhere.  We couldn't.  I'm trying to start a little non-profit and the van needs new tires and well, we just spent several days vacationing out of town in February.  And honestly, with the way time is flying these days, that just seems like yesterday.  So back to point:  I'm never bored.  I'm completely engrossed in a Stephen King novel and I'm doing a little writing and I'm researching this nonprofit thing, and every morning the kids are waking up and the first thing out of their mouths is, "What are we doing today?"

Blah.

I'm just thrilled I'm not getting up at 5:00 AM to squeeze in my workout before getting the kids up for school and I'm thanking the good Lord that we're eating dinner as a family every single night because no one is rushing off to soccer practice and I'm relaxing with my book and my laptop in the evening because I'm not having to help anyone with homework.  Truly, if there is a heaven on earth this is it.

I don't need a beach.

And yet everyday during the last week, I heard the words, "I'm bored" at least four times because each kid had to say it at least once.  We watered the neighbors plants, we planted our own garden, we decorated cookies and Easter eggs and made s'mores in our backyard fireplace.  We played at the park and stopped at Starbucks for hot chocolate--just because.  We turned on the lawn sprinklers and played make-believe store.  How can we say we're bored?  Our family played together.  Did you get that?  We stayed home and played.

Like I told you, I'm never bored.  But these four kids (ages 4-12), well, I don't think they are either.  It took a couple of days, but once they got used to the space they figured out how to fill it all by themselves.  We didn't have to go anywhere on an airplane.  And we didn't uncover this secret by digging in the sand.  Boredom doesn't have a chance in a realm where space and time intersect.  Creativity flourishes, and ultimately four kids (ages 4-12) realized how much they really do love being together.  But don't ask them about that.  They would never admit it.  Ask them about their Spring Break, and the answer you'll probably get is, "We didn't get to go anywhere!  And my mom is so boring!"

Oh, well.  I'll take boring over broke any day of the week.

Season of Contentment

God is the creator of the universe, the ultimate wellspring of creativity, and I believe he bestows on people all the ideas for beauty and change in the world.  He plants these little seeds in the minds of many people, knowing that someone somewhere will choose to act upon that little nudge that really is God's voice inside his head . Although this blog is a tiny thing I write primarily for my own benefit, for me, it is a response to that little nudge. Somewhere, a long time ago, I loved to write—stories, poems, short plays---and read, too, anything I could get my hands on. I devoted whole days to writing and reading, and I never wanted to stop.  But somewhere along the way, LIFE got in the way, and the excruciating minutia of everyday living sucked the life right out of me. I got married, got a job, got pregnant, and got pregnant, and got pregnant, and got pregnant. Now, fifteen years and four kids later, there is time for little else but cooking, cleaning, washing, and serving. The ME person has begun to wither, as the little mini-MEs have begun to thrive. It is a beautiful time and a dark time. I think sometimes about that person that once was me and wonder where she went. Although it may be true that “Practice makes perfect,” sometimes I feel that I am JUST TRYING TO KEEP UP. There’s no time for practicing. This idea of practicing to make perfect has begun to haunt me. If I COULD practice, what would it be that I would be working on? What could be my thing? And wasn’t a little bit of practice better than no practice at all? And so here I am.  Writing a blog to myself.

We live in a very large neighborhood, and so to get from place to place I often drive our three-seater golf cart, (known affectionately by our friends as a "people transporter"). Today, as I was shuttling kids around the neighborhood during an afternoon ride, I ran into a new friend. She is starting her own business, partnering with two local businesses to do what she loves and what is clearly her gift during this season of economic instability. I felt energized after our conversation. Here lives a very talented and gifted person, with a husband and three kids, affluent, and who clearly doesn’t HAVE to go back to work. For her, this new opportunity is not work. Instead, it is an outlet for her God-given creative genius. She can’t NOT do this. The creativity is bubbling over. It’s eeking out of her pores. Her season is sprouting, and in the process those dormant buds that had been there all along are finally being tended and watered. Guess what? She’s blooming. Yes, she’s blooming where she’s planted!

Another friend in another town, equally as talented, equally as gifted, also has three kids. She’s frustrated by the incompleteness of her children’s public school education. She’s one of the most innovative and creative people that I know.  She’s the kind of person who throws theme birthday parties that are beyond anyone’s wildest dreams.  She dreams of bringing people together—through book clubs, wine tastings, vacations, etc.  She sees the potential in people and capitalizes on their strengths, encourages them in their weaknesses, and in the process emerges herself as an inspirational leader of a rag tag group of women.   Her frustration with the public education system has caused her to design a new, more innovative system that partners with parents in ways most people never even thought possible.

I have another dear friend who would love to have four kids, but instead, after a very difficult and dark season of infertility, embraces only one natural born child. Longing for what could be, she has not allowed herself to wallow in what may never be. Instead, she immersed herself in this season doing what she loves most—tirelessly working to bring God's love and provision to a remote village in Uganda, Africa. Here she is in an uncomfortable season, but with the resources and time to do the very thing that makes her feel most alive, she multiplies the investment of God's creativity in her.  Meanwhile, she has been working to bring an adopted daughter home from Ethiopia.  Trials and setbacks only made her praise God more fervently, allowed him to work in her more completely, and just yesterday she claimed her little girl as her own.

These are the people that inspire me. For now, though I write of a “season of contentment”, content is not something I feel every day. In fact, in the midst of the chaotic rough and tumble household that I call “home”,  I sometimes feel the very OPPOSITE of content. Contentment is something I have to CHOOSE.   It is a conscientious choice that I make every single morning. Rising before the sun rises, never stopping until the last child is tucked safely in her bed and the dishes are washed, the clothes are folded, the family room is straightened, and the next day’s lunches are packed, I have to choose to be OK with life’s messiness. I know that one day I will miss the dusty footprints and greasy fingerprints.  I pray the imprint they leave on my soul, though, will last a lifetime. If a little bit of me must die so that each of them can thrive, I will do it.   I CHOOSE contentment.  The reward is eternal.