We must not allow the clock and the calendar to blind us to the fact that each moment of life is a miracle and mystery.
– H.G. Wells
Every morning, my little girl pops her eyes open and says, “is this the last school day this week?”, or “it’s only Tuesdaaaaaay.” Already, she is a slave to the calendar and that makes me wish for the carefree days of her babyhood, when I worked from home and both of my kids were with me all day, driving me completely crazy, but we were mostly oblivious to the clock and calendar.
It was easy to lose touch with the mystery because of the constant overwhelm of caring for little lives and keeping them safe. When you are literally elbow deep in baby puke and pull ups half the day, life seems neither miraculous nor mysterious. It was so hard to stay present then, and given other circumstances, I can admit that I just didn’t want to be present. It was easier to bear life if I was constantly looking to an imagined, better future.
Now, I feel so aware of the miracle of time with them, time away from the calendar, time to just be, and be with them and learn just how they are seeing the world around them. Watching them unfold their portion of the great mystery is miraculous and such a gift. In addition to that, my own curiosity about life and people helps me to pause and consider that mystery for myself. I can’t imagine what life will look like tomorrow, much less 6 months from now. I have the mental space to take stock of things happening in the moment and appreciate them for all they are, whether perceived as good or bad.
This feeling reminds me of this line from The Lotos-eaters, by Lord Tennyson,
“In the afternoon they came unto a land