There is a part of the wall in my house that I rarely see. This is where the laundry climbs the walls, and in the same way that ivy overtakes a trellis, sometimes when I see this spot\u2014my own worries overtake what I know to be true. For me, the laundry is just a tipping point. It’s a subtle reminder that seems to poke fun at my inability to stay on top of things. Some days I look around my home and everything just seems to scream of my shortcomings. I glance at cookbooks, and wish I put forth more creativity in the kitchen. I run my hand over the clothes in my closet that I never wear, because smashed banana doesn’t really go with heels and dry-clean only. I rinse dishes and wonder if the shuffle ever ends, the exhaustion, the fine frenzy that accompanies mothering littles.<\/p>\n
If I let my mind run wild like an untended garden, I leave room for things to sprout up that are in no way life-giving. It can be a dark and lonely place inside some days, and that’s why we have to put on our gloves and start weeding. We have to pull a switch-aroo in the garden of our hearts.<\/p>\n
If my heart is the garden that I so long for it to be, I have to choose to witness what is budding around me.<\/p>\n
My laundry basket is overflowing with mud stained clothes, because I choose to spend my days puddle-jumping. My heels are dusty, because aint-nobody-got-time-for-that when you are busy building forts, having tea parties, and blowing bubbles.<\/p>\n
My windows have smudges on every corner, my books are half-read, and my stretchy pants are on permanent rotation, but this is just one season.<\/p>\n
In this season, the garden of my heart and life is in full bloom with joy\u2014watered by the wonderment of my babies. I get to be little again. I get to see life full-tilt, and uncomplicated through their honest eyes. They aren’t haunted by the undone places in our home. They aren’t playing a daily game of catch-up, they are chasing life down. They turn our tiny condo into a castle, the jungle, outer-space, or an opera house. They paint our halls with laughter and whimsy.<\/p>\n
So for now, I’m an owie-kisser. I’m a champion tickler. I’m a messy bun wearing grilled-cheese maker. I’m a gardener, constantly tilling the soil of their tiny hearts and my own\u2014watching with kind eyes as everything begins to bloom.<\/p>\n