Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Right here, right now

I've sat here for a good 15 minutes debating whether to blog all the thoughts swirling in my head. Isn't that silly? But such is the state of my brain these days. Incapacitated by little decisions.

It's a total coincidence that my last two posts (including this one) have been inspired by Emily Freeman. But they have and that's just the way it is. In today's post, Emily said, "there is a distinct difference between knowing the importance of being with what’s real and actually being brave enough to resist reaching for what I wish to be."

I live in a constant state of waiting these days. Most of it is centered around the fact that I'm 8 months pregnant. Every day is a countdown to when this baby will be born. I'm so tired of being pregnant. I don't intend to complain throughout this entire post, but I am truly done with being pregnant. Yes, it's always fun to feel him move, but the list of non-fun things is very, very long. I'm just done, and so I look forward to labor and delivery not just so we can meet this new little one--and after all, isn't that the ultimate point?--but also just so I will never have to be pregnant ever again. Ever. I've always enjoyed pregnancy. This last time is a bit of an exception. C'est la vie.

There is a lot of other waiting right now--house projects I can't work on (because I'm pregnant); projects I can work on but not right now (whether this minute, or this day, or this week); the plan to buy a new house in the next year; and more, much more.

And there is the emotional morass I constantly deal with. I haven't decided if it's due to depression, lack of sleep, or pregnancy hormones; let's just split it three ways and call it a day. But it really doesn't matter what the cause is, because I still have to deal with it. And so I wait to see if that will get better, too.

But what Emily says puts words to the thought I've been struggling with, and the thought I will likely continue to struggle with: all of this waiting, all of this emotional tension, is just something I have to live with. It IS life. It's one thing to say it, even to KNOW it, and to actually do it. I want to whine. I want to imagine myself away. I want to do something else, darn it. I want to escape.

But to just be, to just live my life as it's happening right now, regardless of whether it is what I want it to be--that's a concept I'm wrestling with. (Just to be clear, I'm not talking about settling, but about appreciating what is.) Because "life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans." The living out of that understanding is hard.

So I take the advice and choose to see what is good, what is right, what is my life right now. Like Halle placing 2nd in History Fair after weeks and weeks of research and reminders to get her butt in gear and yelling and shopping and cutting and gluing and a bit more yelling and struggling to get this 12-year-old to do her own work. It's done, and it's good, and the process was, I'm believing, worth it. Especially when I hear about another History Fair situation in which a teacher and her husband are helping students do their project. MY child will know what it is to do the work--hard work--and to do it right. In the midst of all the things I don't necessarily do right as a parent, I'm taking the moral victory here. This year I refused to help Halle any more than was absolutely necessary. She noticed it, too, and she did not like having to work as hard as she did. But she did it.

And the Christmas recital last night--where I originally intended to record my children's performances, but where we ended up taking pictures instead--my kids did really, really well. Halle played a duet with another flute player, and closed the night with a lovely solo of "O Holy Night." Chloe sang "Silent Night," accompanied by her sister, and she sang it well. And Noah read a poem in which you could understand (almost) every word. They each had minor moments of mishap--a flubbed note, a forgotten word, a word misread--but each of them recovered beautifully. And I'm just as proud of that as I am of how well they did the rest of the time.

It is good for me to notice these things, to record them, to give thanks for them. The are many things to look forward to in the future. But I don't want to miss--or not appreciate or wish away--what is happening right now.


Felicity said...

Exactly. Yes.

Chris said...

Ditto to Felicity!
I got a little teary, as though I was actually there, reading your description of the kids' performances. Did you know I always cried when you girls performed? Leaky emotions!

Angela said...

This is a really great post, Amy. Thanks.