This is Now

Jan 23, 2013

(photo by yours truly)

One of my favorite comedians has a bit about life with four young children. “Bedtime is a crisis!” he says.

I can relate. In our house breakfast is a crisis (the three-year-old is NOT a morning person), homework after school is a crisis (I’ve forgotten 9 times 7, and I can’t find a calculator), dinner is a crisis (food allergies + general pickiness = misery for mama the cook), and bathtime is always a crisis.

Not long ago, a friend (and father of one small child) stood in my kitchen as I prepared and served a quick lunch for the kids. I take it for granted that feeding so many small children can feel like wrestling a tornado, but my friend had, apparently, never seen anything like it. “Is it always like that? How do you do it?”

Most days I wake up feeling as if waves are crashing just at my heels, and I must rush, rush, rush to keep my head above the water.

Except I know it doesn’t have to be this way. I know this. I’ve felt it.

Sometimes I remember these words of Laura Ingalls Wilder: “She was glad that the cozy house, and Pa and Ma and the firelight and the music, were now. They could not be forgotten, she thought, because now is now. It can never be a long time ago.”

When the waves threaten to overwhelm me, I stand very still and tell myself, “Now is now.” The beautiful thing about my life in this season is that my now is almost always good. When I let go of the ten next steps, when I give up trying to manage the crisis, I can recognize just how good and just how magical my life is.

When I feed the baby in the rocking chair, I tell myself “This is now.” Suddenly, I notice those big blue eyes, and I give up deciding which job I’ll tackle next.

When the firstborn shrieks about the blood and why oh why did her brother have to lose his tooth while sitting on her white quilt, I hold that baby tooth in my hand and say “This is now.” I remember the moment I first felt its sharpness in his baby gums. Like Laura says, it cannot be forgotten. It can never be a long time ago.

And when the quilt is washed, and the tooth placed beneath his pillow, I go back into their bedrooms. I whisper, “Come and see.”

While we ate dinner, and found lost pajamas, and yelled, and wiped up blood, the world outside was transformed.

We never saw the snow clouds that came and went, but this is now: the whole world washed clean and sparkling. The whole world shining in moonlight.

This is now, and it can never be a long time ago.

 

(photo by yours truly)

 

16 Comments

  1. Carol

    Aww. Thank you for the ode to LIW 🙂 So fitting.

    I had a conversation with my husband recently and I said “I don’t want you to lose you” and “I don’t want to lose me!” (in all this married / being parents stuff.

    Then I had the realization … we AREN’T who we were then. We are constantly rediscovering ourselves and who we are today. Who we are now.

    Now is now. We aren’t who we were then. This life isn’t what it was then. The best thing we can do is grow together looking ahead. Sometimes it’s easy to say that and forget what it really means. Then when it “clicks,” it’s so great!

    Reply
    • Christie Purifoy

      I thought you’d appreciate the quotation, Carol. 🙂

      Reply
  2. valarie

    Simply a privilege to read you, Christy. I am sincerely going to try and practice today. So many missed moments. Brings tears to my eyes.

    Reply
  3. valarie

    Christie:-)

    Reply
    • Christie Purifoy

      You’re sweet, Valarie. I imagine, like me, you are used to misspellings of your name? 🙂

      Reply
  4. Annie Barnett

    Christie, I love this. I was just thinking about the slowing down – and how to do it well – how to take one small moment at a time. And then this – with one of my very favorite quotes from Wilder. Beautifully said and well timed for this heart. Thank you.

    Reply
    • Christie Purifoy

      Thank you, Annie. I’m so encouraged to know that the timing of this post was exactly right for you.

      Reply
  5. Lisa Ulrich

    great post! so important to live in the moment while our kids are little. THe little doesn’t last long. (i like that comedian too and know which one your talking about..)

    Reply
    • Christie Purifoy

      Thanks, Lisa. And, yes, isn’t Gaffigan wonderful? I don’t even like stand-up comedy as a rule, but his stuff makes my face hurt (you know, from all the laughing).

      Reply
  6. Esther E. Hawkins

    Oh my goodness, yes! I have always been a super organized boardering on anal type personality. When we had our third baby (the others had just turned 5 and 3) I realized that I had a choice – drive myself crazy trying to stay in control, or start to embrace the chaos. Here I am a year down the road and I am loving the chaos. It has been a journey to get here , a journey of letting go but the key is exactly what you said, realizing what is important right now. Control robs me of that but in a remarkable way, chaos enables it. #embracing chaos!

    Reply
  7. Elizabeth P

    Christie, this is beautiful. To pause, to be in awe of this present moment, to receive now is the most formative spiritual discipline I know. Thank you for writing.

    Reply
    • Christie Purifoy

      Thank you for your kind, encouraging words, Elizabeth! They mean a great deal.

      Reply

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