The day I bought a minivan I surrendered all. Seriously. I've never been super cool. But man, after a lifetime of working hard, a fancy car would have been great. That sleek, head-turner, smooth vehicle that just oozes style and luxury - the one I would feel great driving that handled like nothing else. Something with all of the bells and whistles, latest tech, not even the best milage - who cares!! I wanted something cool. I'd step out at the mall, look around, and receive my silent nods & accolades for a lifetime of work well done.
But I got a minivan. And another one. And another one. I can't get enough of that super uncool TotRod we have all grown to love. I surrendered my dream car to the van.
And I love the van. I love the sliding doors that don't ding the other cars when my three beautiful haphazard children open them. I love the way we can comfortably travel together. I love that I can throw nuggets to my kids and send back whipped cream topped milkshakes and not worry about damaging the precious interior. I love the sand that got trapped in the doorways from countless trips to the beach and the tiny rocks they collected in the mountains that are still stuffed in the chair backs. If you peek inside my windows, you'll see stickers slapped on anything solid and random toys, jackets, sketchbooks, water bottles, and kids meal trash - probably always. Kids!!!
But what's inside the van, my living, breathing, cargo is more precious than any of that stuff. And the surrender wasn't really a surrender. It was an invitation to a life worth living.
Which brings me to the end of my first post. The day you surrender yourself to God - the day you make that "Aha" moment and dive into the TotRod. That's the first day of your best life. That's the ultimate means of transportation to the finish line.
I read something the other day about how much time and effort we put into living, all knowing that the end will come. How tragic we are that we place so little preparation into caring for our souls, for our children's souls, and for the souls around us - lost or found, ALSO knowing that the end will come.
Our youngest is going through Sacramental Prep at our church. It's beautiful. And I love the time I spend with her teaching her about the faith, and in turn learning more myself. We go off of the cuff a lot, and I love to hear her little questions. While I absolutely adore this time, I just wish I could give what I've given to her to more. How much more beautiful would the world be if we all had those precious moments with our precious ones. As the beautiful words of Mother Teresa state, "If you want to change the world, go home and love your family." What greater gift can we give them than that? And it costs nothing but your God-given time.
On a final note - I'm massively imperfect - (duh, aren't we all?) I do have a Vespa-type scooter. A pearl white Honda Metropolitan that my hubs gave me for my 40th birthday. I adore it. I think God knew I needed some of those "me" times, and this does the trick. It's a one-seater, designed for when mama just needs to feel the wind in her hair at a maxed out 35 mph.
But I always go back to the van.
And happy 19th anniversary to the hubs. Love you.
xoxo
But I got a minivan. And another one. And another one. I can't get enough of that super uncool TotRod we have all grown to love. I surrendered my dream car to the van.
And I love the van. I love the sliding doors that don't ding the other cars when my three beautiful haphazard children open them. I love the way we can comfortably travel together. I love that I can throw nuggets to my kids and send back whipped cream topped milkshakes and not worry about damaging the precious interior. I love the sand that got trapped in the doorways from countless trips to the beach and the tiny rocks they collected in the mountains that are still stuffed in the chair backs. If you peek inside my windows, you'll see stickers slapped on anything solid and random toys, jackets, sketchbooks, water bottles, and kids meal trash - probably always. Kids!!!
But what's inside the van, my living, breathing, cargo is more precious than any of that stuff. And the surrender wasn't really a surrender. It was an invitation to a life worth living.
Which brings me to the end of my first post. The day you surrender yourself to God - the day you make that "Aha" moment and dive into the TotRod. That's the first day of your best life. That's the ultimate means of transportation to the finish line.
I read something the other day about how much time and effort we put into living, all knowing that the end will come. How tragic we are that we place so little preparation into caring for our souls, for our children's souls, and for the souls around us - lost or found, ALSO knowing that the end will come.
Our youngest is going through Sacramental Prep at our church. It's beautiful. And I love the time I spend with her teaching her about the faith, and in turn learning more myself. We go off of the cuff a lot, and I love to hear her little questions. While I absolutely adore this time, I just wish I could give what I've given to her to more. How much more beautiful would the world be if we all had those precious moments with our precious ones. As the beautiful words of Mother Teresa state, "If you want to change the world, go home and love your family." What greater gift can we give them than that? And it costs nothing but your God-given time.
On a final note - I'm massively imperfect - (duh, aren't we all?) I do have a Vespa-type scooter. A pearl white Honda Metropolitan that my hubs gave me for my 40th birthday. I adore it. I think God knew I needed some of those "me" times, and this does the trick. It's a one-seater, designed for when mama just needs to feel the wind in her hair at a maxed out 35 mph.
But I always go back to the van.
And happy 19th anniversary to the hubs. Love you.
xoxo
No comments:
Post a Comment