It's smoky outside, loveys. We're here in Colorado where our state is again on fire. I'm about to break out the rain dance and pray. It's just so dry here. A little spark takes off and becomes a raging fire. Pray for rain for us, please.
I went out on the back deck yesterday to water our little flower garden and found myself breathing light and shallow to avoid the smoke. The weather woman on the news last night was talking about having to stand outside for 3 minutes while she does her segment; she said she just tries to breathe shallow since it's so smoky.
It's only temporary.
We're meant to breathe deeply. Maybe in more ways than just taking in oxygen.
Do you ever feel like you're not getting enough? You breathe in and it's just not quite enough? Or you take a deep breath and it turns into a yawn (that happens to me a lot)? Are you getting enough? Not just air--are you getting enough life? Enough love? Enough fulfillment? Does it ever feel to you as though we're only scratching the surface of what our lives could be?
Confession: I've felt that way at times. As though I'm breathing shallow instead of deep. I'm getting by, not thriving. I'm smiling on the outside but it's only skin-deep, it doesn't reach the heart (or come from the heart). Everything looks okay . . . but I want more.
For me, it's not really a material issue. I'm not someone who's always wanting more material things (Jeff appreciates this about me ;). I'm sure you know people who are like that. Always wanting a bigger house, always wanting better things, always wanting more things. And honestly, in the culture we live in, I understand how easy it is to fall into that trap. It's happened to me. But I know that's not the kind of woman I want to be. Choosing contentment isn't always easy, but I want Ash and Linc to see me not as a woman who always complained and wanted more. I want them to say that their mother was content. Have you ever given that much thought? How your children will remember you?
Last night, because of the nearby fires, Jeff asked me if I'd thought about what we'd need to pack in a hurry if we needed to evacuate. I shrugged, "Our photo albums and my grandmother's tea set."
"Is that it?" he asked. I was checking email and didn't look up. "I don't know. Maybe my Cherry Merry Muffin dolls."
He burst out laughing, and I looked up and realized what I said, and then we both laughed together. Other than my children, I just don't have that much that's irreplaceable. If I have Jeff and the kids, my heart is intact. I have photo albums I'd want to grab because they're pre-digital. Thanks to Facebook, my kids lives are well-documented online. Jeff reminded me that there are important papers and documents we need. I told him those go on his list of things to remember. :)
When I say I want more, it's more life. It's more love. More unforgettable moments. More good conversations with close friends. More dinner parties filled with laughter and friendship. More holding hands with Jeff, not just sitting by each other. More snuggle moments with Ashtyn and Lincoln. More 'close your eyes and say, Mmm,' because this dessert is so delectable. More moments of feeling alive--whether that's the quiet, tired moments after a full day, or the excited fun moments of experiencing something great.
I think it's important to recognize when we start feeling like we need more. Either it's a discontent heart thing that needs to be tackled, or it's a legitimate need in your heart that needs to be fixed. You need more life. You need more love. You need more help. You need more peace. You need to breathe more deeply. (If your area is not filled with smoke, that is.)
This morning I told Jeff we need to hold hands more. He smiled at me and said, "Sounds good to me."
Philippians 4:11-12, "I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound."