I changed puke-covered sheets twice last night, which means another day of trips to the basement laundry room. I left the preschool after chatting with a few friends and letting the teachers hold the baby to get their fix (he’s so cute, he’s like a drug). I’ll make a pot of ginger turmeric tea to share with the toddler and though I have all the right ingredients, my effort at replicating the Bakehouse Breakfast Club fell slightly short. (It’s never quite the same as when someone else makes it for you, yes?)
Then on to the pile of resumes to review for the client who wants to hire. Note: when it says “1-3 years experience in food service” they really do mean you. The Dyson needs surgery so I’ll be spending some time on YouTube while the toddler paints* at the kitchen table. A newsletter needs curated and samples sent to a lead on new opportunities.
This is my day. All day, most every day. Often I get to meet with fascinating and encouraging people along the way -for work and for play. Just as frequently my only conversation is discussing the days of the week or the ways in which flashlights work.
So with the sun shining this morning I’m filled with gratitude and awe. It’s a day with a to-do list that is tasked out but which will end with an evening of celebrating 8 glorious years with a man who makes this beautiful struggle possible. I have things to do, people with whom to enjoy it. God has provided just enough, each day, for me to continue to live in such a blessed way.
In our culture, we’re often driven to build more, bigger, best. But recently while reading Tsh Oxenreider’s Notes from a Blue Book** I fell in love with an old parable (source. I copied/pasted.)
An American investment banker was at the pier of a small coastal Mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. Inside the small boat were several large yellowfin tuna. The American complimented the Mexican on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them.
The Mexican replied, “only a little while. The American then asked why didn’t he stay out longer and catch more fish? The Mexican said he had enough to support his family’s immediate needs. The American then asked, “but what do you do with the rest of your time?”
The Mexican fisherman said, “I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siestas with my wife, Maria, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine, and play guitar with my amigos. I have a full and busy life.” The American scoffed, “I am a Harvard MBA and could help you. You should spend more time fishing and with the proceeds, buy a bigger boat. With the proceeds from the bigger boat, you could buy several boats, eventually you would have a fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to a middleman you would sell directly to the processor, eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product, processing, and distribution. You would need to leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City, then LA and eventually New York City, where you will run your expanding enterprise.”
The Mexican fisherman asked, “But, how long will this all take?”
To which the American replied, “15 – 20 years.”
“But what then?” Asked the Mexican.
The American laughed and said, “That’s the best part. When the time is right you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich, you would make millions!”
“Millions – then what?”
The American said, “Then you would retire. Move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siestas with your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play your guitar with your amigos.”
That’s my dream life. Enjoying daily life with my children, making dinner, running a household, writing things that help people’s dreams and business’ flourish and their spiritual lives come awake. Then ending with a full glass of wine and the company of beautiful souls. Some people build empires of business and commerce and personal wealth and all the power to them – you have this one short life, so go for it.
As for me, I’m building into people in the most basic ways possible. This simple act of presence – of typing out words into an invisible world, splashing my hands into warm, soapy dish water for the third time of the day and fixing toys whose wheels fell off – fills me with joy. I’m living it with such beautiful souls, people who encourage me and make me laugh and don’t mind my exceptionally greasy, unshowered hair. If it all ended tomorrow, I can say it’s a life well lived. My prayer is that, wherever you are and however you spend your days, you feel the same way.
*While writing, this happened:
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| I swear I cropped out that sun streak. But those emails are calling, I have no time for editing. |
**Affiliate link. I make a few pennies when you click and buy. But Tsh didn’t pay me, I’m glad to recommend the book on my own accord. It’s a fantastic book.