Showing Up

I had big plans to post a blog Thursday night, but then the boys' bookshelves got in and I spent the evening obsessively assembling them and unboxing books. Part of this was that I was sick of the boys' books taking over the floor of our guest room (which has been the dump room for the last month) but most of it was that in my mind I was playing out the part in The Little Princess when Ram Dass transforms Sara Crewe's room while she sleeps. I imagined the boys waking up the next morning and expressing a fervor of excitement. Naturally, expectations didn't line up with reality, and the boys (while grateful) didn't descend into rapturous thrills of joy. Evidently bookshelves are run of the mill where they come from.

Then I was going to post a blog last night--and my furniture assembling plans even conspired alongside me so that I could be done setting up the TV stand before pizza and a movie night and be free to spend the whole evening writing. Except that Twinkles woke up while I was still assembling and I got flustered and rushed and somehow managed to slide a piece of molding on backwards (probably in between telling the twins and Tiny to stop fighting and yelling for Littles to come save me from the Toddler of Terror) and didn't realize until I was almost done with the entire assembly...and couldn't finish due to my mistake. At that point, I decided to take the kids for a walk on the beach and regain my sanity. Once the kids were in bed, the Man graciously helped me take apart the TV stand so that I could fix the molding, reassemble it, and finish the job. Let me tell you what a saint he is: he only once reminded me that he'd asked me to wait and do the assembly together.

Anyway, my Saturday morning disappeared while I unboxed DVDs and alphabetized them (let's place bets now on how long it'll take before Twinkles messes them up). Then my early afternoon disappeared while I meticulously hung a bunch of lined up picture frames on the wall (I'm pretty sure they're all crooked). But here we are now. You're welcome.

All that to say: things rarely go as planned but, at least in my experience, we do tend to get there eventually. Maybe it doesn't look the way we think it should, but that doesn't negate the hard work it took to get there or the possible joys along the way. Maybe instead of the 3-4 mile solitary run you had planned, you end up eking out just two miles while pushing the baby in the stroller. It's still forward progress. Maybe instead of the curtains staying up, they fall back down for the fourth time and you finally fill in the holes with putty and go back to trouble shooting a different option. It still counts. Maybe instead of making a great impression at your husband's squadron BBQ you trip and nearly fall flat on your face. You still showed up.

Maybe the things not going as planned in your life are bigger than aesthetic annoyances or minor embarrassments or inconvenient mistakes. The truth is still the same. Say it to yourself: this still counts. This is still progress (however slow). I still showed up.

We keep showing up, even though the progress does not appear to be forward. We keep showing up, even though the world tells us that what we do does not count. We give each other hugs. We take walks when we need to. Sometimes we have a good cry. We smile at each other. We give a compliment, no matter how small (because the best way to feel better about ourselves is to encourage someone else). And then we show up again because to be alive is to keep moving forward, even when it feels that we are moving backward, even when we're not sure what forward is any more.

Keep showing up. There is a quiet Voice waiting to tell you, "Well done, good and faithful servant. Come further up. Come further in." Take a breather, but don't quit yet. There are bigger adventures to come.