Dichotomy {A Bigger Picture Moment}

There is something about being alone, without children and noise and clamor.  Something about silence.  Something about muffled needs and deep breaths.  There's something about relief and relaxation and unbundling that comes with being alone. 

The way a thought is allowed to begin -- a flake of dust settles onto a shelf --

and grow -- a hand sweeps over the dust, scattering it --

and move forward into something else entirely -- a puff of twinkling motes swirling in the light --

without ever once being interrupted.

There is just something about being alone.

Walking up the front steps, I hug it tight to my skin before releasing it into the sunset.  I open the door and let myself in where the children are racing and yelling and being gloriously noisy.

It's mama! 

Oh, MAMA!!  Mama's home!!

The arms surround my legs and waist pulling me down, erasing the last, clinging breaths of solitude. 

Each voice is telling a story about games or songs or snacks or all of them at the same time.  If a speck of thought-dust were to fall in the vicinity of my soul at this very moment, it would be buffeted about without ever reaching the ground.  There is no silence.  There is no stillness. 

But there are kisses.  There is joy.  There is a flailing, smiling baby, reaching for my arms.  There is a husband who has already cleared the dinner dishes.  There is bedtime.  There is craziness from all sides and it feels like slow heat, seeping into my skin.

There is something about being surrounded.




Every Thursday, we come together to share the harvest of intentional living by capturing a glimpse of the Bigger Picture through a simple moment.  Join the Bigger Picture Community today at Melissa's place. Reflect upon something simple — or simply magical — that’s resonated with you this week, then share it with us!