The purpose of life, after all, is to live it . . . (Eleanor Roosevelt)
It is Sunday morning, and that means our traditional Sunday morning breakfast. But it is still quiet in these pre-dawn hours, and some time until I need to start preparations. This morning I am preparing what my mother would have called a “substantial” breakfast — sausage gravy and biscuits, crispy potatoes, and scrambled eggs ‘n cheese. Since I tend to be more of a nuts and berries person right now, this is big. In more ways than one . . .
But my two breakfast companions sometimes rebel against the variety of seeds and nuts found hidden in their peas and carrots and smoothies, so this is a special treat for them. I hope.
I have always wished for a biggggg family, one of those Norman Rockwell paintings of huge families gathered around a table come to life, but alas, it wasn’t to be. Not on my life path. I have married into large families twice, hoping for the best. Alas again, that wasn’t to be either. Attempting to create what lies in one’s fantasies can be an exhausting and disappointing affair.
Although I churlishly tend to put the responsibility on others for why it hasn’t worked out in accord with my fantasies, the truth of the matter is that it’s probably me. Perhaps I am just not a big family person, as much as I want to be. Back in my church attending days, I used to sit and watch Rachel and Lowell’s family, youngish parents of at least six little ones. A picture postcard family. Rachel was living the life I was born to live, I often thought. My guardian angel musta fallen asleep on the job at some critical juncture. I delighted in observing them. And wondered sometimes at what their own challenges might be. I’m sure they had them in abundance, since what they were doing wasn’t easy, but they sure weren’t apparent to me as I observed them with pleasure and longing.
I have been given so many incredible blessings and am at peace (at least most of the time) about my life’s path now, but especially around the holidays, I wonder. And long . . .
Do we get the life we’ve planned? The one we want? The one we need? Is the grass always greener on the other side of the fence? Do those in large families long for solitude? Do we ever get a chance for a “do-over?”
In my fantasies, I often picture sitting down with my guardian angel in the celestial realms before I ever got “borned,” and collaborating with her about my life-to-be: “Okay, One-About-to-Be-Incarnated, this is what we have in mind for your life. Whatcha’ think?”
And I would say, “You gotta be kidding. You want me to do That? How about This instead?” And she would purse her lips and tell me that, “Well, that’s not really what the committee had in mind . . .” The world needed this instead, and would I be agreeable to take on the challenges needed rather the ones I wanted? . . . “The Big Guy would be grateful.” And of course, since after all, it’s my fantasy, and I wanna look good, I would graciously acquiesce and say, “Oh, of course.”
My choice. My responsibility. To live this precious life with as much Grace, Enthusiasm, Kindness, Appreciation, and Humor as I can muster up . . . . With all its challenges, disappointments, futile strivings, and questions, it is such an incredible Gift. Beyond words . . .