What would Sara do?

I'm not sure if it's because it's summer now, or if my kids both happen to be going through "phases" at the same time, but Kai and Ari have been driving me bananas for the last few weeks. At least once a day I get to deal with simultaneous meltdowns from the two of them. It has been totally wearing on my nerves. There's been a few days when I can just feel my capacity for kindness waning and by the end of the day, when my patience has been entirely spent, I have to remind myself that I actually like my children and feel beyond blessed that being their mommy is my full time job.

It's tempting in these moments to wish away these days and look forward to easier phases down the road when my children are a little less high-maintenance and a little more rational, but I've recently had an unwelcome, but powerful reminder about how short life can be, how fleeting and precious this time is, and how foolish it would be to take one day, one moment, with these precious boys of mine for granted. So in those moments that I am feeling less than grateful for the less than gratifying things I sometimes get to do as a mom, I find myself asking, "What would Sara do?"

Sara is a friend--more accurately a friend-of-a-friend--who recently lost her 2.5-year-long battle with colon cancer. She was my age, almost exactly, and she left behind her a loving husband and three beautiful children. Not to mention countless other family members and friends. It's not surprising that so many loved her and have been left somehow lesser because of her loss. She was an amazing woman--so full of life and humor, strength and determination--and a wonderful mother.

What would Sara do if she was given the opportunity to be with her kids and husband, in this life, for just one more day? Hour? Minute?

I suspect that she would wrap her family up in her arms--rejoice in the tangibility, the physicality of their connection--and delight in their little voices--even if they're grumpy. She would soak in every moment. Swallow up every detail. I imagine that her heart would burst with gratitude to be granted just one moment more in their presence, exactly as they are, in all of their glorious imperfection.

It's true, life isn't perfect. Our kids are not perfect. And we are not perfect parents. This world is not perfect. Terrible things happen. People get sick...and die. And the pain that we go through is sometimes inimaginable and feels unbearable. But we do bear it. And through all the imperfection that is my life and the pain that I've felt these past few weeks pondering on another life tragically lost, I realize that the imperfections are what make life worth living... and, in it's own way, kind of great.

And so I hope to do better. I hope to embrace each day with the outlook that this is as good as it gets. That today I am the luckiest girl in the world--a wife/mother/daughter/sister/friend to some amazing, but imperfect people, to see/touch/smell/hear/taste this beautiful, but imperfect world. It doesn't get better than this.

I pray desperately, every night, hoping that God will spare me and my family the type of tragedy that Sara's family is now facing. But I also see how in tragedy God is able to accomplish his purposes. I am so grateful for that part of me that is confident life does not end with this earthly existence, that family bonds cannot be broken by death, that the next life is going to be free of illness and physical suffering and death.

But I am also grateful for this terrible, beautiful life.

Kaisms

The other day I swung through McDonald's to get me a Diet Coke and Kai some chicken nuggets that he could share with his friends (we were on our way to a playdate). When I handed Kai the bag with the nuggets:

Kai: "Where's the toy?"

Me: "There's no toy. It's not a happy meal."

Kai: "But I wanted a happy meal, not a sad meal."


On a particularly hot and humid day last week:

Kai: The weather isn't nice today, Mommy, it's really mugly.


After Kai tried a sip of my limeade

Me: Did you like it? Or was it too sour for you?

Kai: I didn't like it. It made my tongue feel dizzy.