This Inspired Life

Last summer I was chatting with my WW coach about the little things in life that are most precious.  Whenever I think on it I get a bit choked up and that day was no exception.  At the time I wasn’t able to articulate myself, to express what I feel so deeply to be true.  Hopefully this will more articulately voice my feelings.
 

“Mommy, Daddy!” my son stage whispers.  Inwardly I groan.  It’s 5:15 am and I’m really not awake yet.  “It’s time for the cuddle sandwich!  What bread are you Mommy, Daddy?”

“Uh, Pumpernickel” I slur.  “Asiago” my husband groans.  “Great!  I’m provolone cheese” my son says as he giggles and snuggles in close to us. 

After five minutes of quality cuddling he bolts out of bed to meet his day running and watch the sunrise. 

My husband rolls over and we snuggle for five more minutes before prying ourselves from the bed.  It’s a wonder to me how this never gets old, even after 17 years.  I crave it like oxygen, waking up with my best friend, this beautiful, amazing man.

We go through our morning routine.  My husband makes my coffee for me every day and after I have breakfast my son and I cuddle up on the couch for the best part of waking up. 

Remember the old Folgers Coffee ad?  “The best part of waking up is Folgers in your cup”- that was the tag line.  Well, I sort of changed the last words to “Colin in my arms”.  As we cuddle I sing the requisite song. 

On days I work my mother is over at the house by 6:30 am.  If my son had his way she would be over at 6:00 at least but together they’ve learned the art of negotiation.  From the minute my son sees the whites of her eyes he lights up like the Fourth of July.  Gran and Papa hung the moon as far as my son is concerned and I would have to agree. 

My parents are the kind everyone dreams about. 

I work part time and Mom always watches my son when I’m at work.  She’s well accustomed to just how neurotic a mother her own daughter is and somehow manages to be the most fun play pal a kid ever had.  At the same time she's every bit as amazing a caregiver as I could ever hope to be myself. 

Papa has taught my son the value of laughter, flexibility in life (though he’s, I mean we’re, still working on that one) and how to just be plain silly for no reason at all. 

At the end of the morning it’s finally time to head off to work, school, and errands. 

Even after I’m back at home alone there are whispers of my family everywhere- Pooh bear sits on the kitchen island, my husband’s shoes are lying out.  Our house is in its general state of cluttered chaos, what I like to call the level of “friend clean”.      

I start to sort through all the papers on the island which are largely my son’s school work.  I look at his drawings and stories and am simultaneously amazed at the heart and creativity and a little wistful as they speak of his age.  When did he get this old? 

On the days I work it’s like a patchwork quilt of friends- co-workers and patients alike.  Sometimes when I lie in bed at night I can see their smiling faces, and sometimes the sad ones too.  
I pray for them all. 

It’s a truly amazing thing to stay in one office for twelve years.  The greatest thing happens; you really get to know patients as people.  I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the incredible kindness people have shown me nor the feeling of being humbled by their trust and the opportunity to share in some small part of their lives. 

At night we eat dinner, read, and before you know it I’m getting my son ready for bed. 

Funny thing- we actually have this 1 ft tall laminated yellow paper smiley face hanging from the towel rack in the bathroom.  My son thought the bathroom was “too scary” at one point and said he needed a happy thought so my husband hung up “Mr. Happy Thought”.  I made the mistake of doing a voice for him once and now every night I have to sing the same song while he brushes teeth.

  

After dawdling during flossing and brushing it’s on to pj’s and prayers. 

I don’t think I’ll ever get over just how beautiful it is to hear a child pray.  It’s always so real, so tangible and so profound. 

After my son is in bed my husband and I sit on the front porch swing together and talk and watch the lightening bugs.  We talk most about our son and our day.  Sometimes we just sit and don’t talk at all, watching the sunset and just enjoying our company. 

And me, I feel like the luckiest girl in the world. 

And I think that it’s all the million little things like these and a million more I don’t have room here to mention- all my family, my friends, my enemies and complete strangers who, through my interaction with them, have helped shape this inspired life. 

It’s not having the “perfect” family or the “perfect” house or life, its knowing that the family and the house and the life that I have are the perfect ones for me. 

It’s the experience of all the little things we can’t compare because no one else even knows about them.  It’s the secret you keep in your heart.

You see, I don’t believe God compares us because God knows we are beyond comparison.  How can you compare two different and completely unique things?

I think before I die when I think back on my life these little everyday things are the ones I’ll remember most- the faces, the smiles, the cuddles, the laughter, the tears,...

...and all the echoes of a beautiful life. 

~Carrie