Epiphany

Lately I've felt a little asphyxiated by the passage of time, the whys and what-ifs of this world, the vast amounts of unknown. The pain and bitterness and destruction and death and the decay of society has been chafing at my soul, and I've felt crushed under the weight of regrets and shame. There's a constantly looping reel in my head of everything I perceive to be wrong with myself and the world, and there's an underlying, unrelenting anxiety about the next shoe to drop.
I've known for a little while now that I haven't been taking self-care very seriously. The upheaval of the last year has become an excuse to continue on this breakneck trajectory from one day into the next with very little time spent in stillness and introspection and surrender. It's been easier to just go, go, go. But the latter part of this summer I have just felt shattered and have come to the realization that I need desperately to Be still and put back together by the only One who can really do that. He used a simple trip the park this morning to begin that process I believe:

Watching my kiddos at the park this morning, my initial reaction was "It's all going by too fast. And I'm messing it up all the time. And soon they won't want to even be at the park with me."
Fast on the heels of all this Debbie Downer talk was the thought, "But you have today. And today they DO want to be with you at the park".
I literally stopped in my tracks.
It seems like a message I've heard a thousand different ways over dozens of years, but something hit me differently today.
And I realized that all of my conjecture about the future and pining for the past is futile.  I can't have yesterday and certainly can't know tomorrow. But I have TODAY.  And what do I have TODAY that I can celebrate? From the simple to the significant?

I believe this is where my healing lies. In shifting focus. I want to focus on LIFE and LIVING and the GIVER of it all. Even when the pain and decay most certainly invade, there can still be celebration and gratitude. And when everything else is stripped away, I can still celebrate the God of love who is preparing blessings and joy beyond what I could ever hope to experience here.

And so TODAY.
TODAY I have these amazing kids (who are growing up too fast BUT THAT'S NOT MY FOCUS RIGHT NOW) who still love a laid-back, sun-wrapped trip to the park with me. Who still find laughter and contentment in swings and slides and monkey bars.

I don't know about tomorrow, but I know that this is my joy TODAY.