Just as well… I have a few minutes before the day ends… and no reflection posted.
But what if I have no reflection to give? It’s a scary thing to have nothing to give… and maybe the large looming reality of my very small life is that I don’t. I don’t have anything to give.
But then I re-think the simple words that are taped above my desk: “Love Gives Itself Away.” When all else fails, Love offers exactly and only what it has. It just does. It just gives it. Into empty space…
So here… It was a very daily day. The dirt I swept in the morning is back on the floor. Muddy little tip toes and dried fall leaves, all tramped in. The dishes I washed from breakfast magically reappeared in the sink after dinner. The pillows I plumped are flattened. The toys I organized are scattered. When I wake up tomorrow, it will literally be the exactly same story again. As if nothing happened. As if the toiling was for nothing. As if the Groundhog Day Loop is in full repeat.
Sometimes in 24 hours we take one 24 hour sized step forward. And sometimes there is no better metaphor for where we are and what we’re doing than the one: Spinning Our Wheels. There just isn’t. Except maybe drowning. Because I might have actually gone backwards.
Sometimes there is this almost animal fear that tears up the back of my spine when Facebook reminds me, “4 Years Ago You Had This First Baby Of Yours.”
4 years of doing nothing but keeping small people alive and maintaining sanity?
4 whole years?
I practically have a master’s degree in Small Human Maintenance. 4 years!
It is so tempting to call them a waste. You know it is.
“Love gives itself away.”
All the way through the very daily days.
There are Bible verses for this stuff… There are encouragements that encourage… There are good words like, “Now, beloved brothers and sisters, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know your labor in the Lord is not in vain.” But sometimes I don’t know it at all. I don’t know if my long labor and delivery is in the Lord… I certainly don’t know that it isn’t in vain. How could mopping this dumb floor over and over NOT be in vain?
I don’t know. All I know right now is… Love gives itself away.
And as it gives itself it leaves barely visible traces… like jet streams traced across setting sun skies. Small smoke signals in a shadowy world: Love lives here.
At the end of the years… all of them… not just these wee 4… what if I haven’t got anything more than well mopped floors and well fed boys? Nothing scares me more. I want to leave more behind than endless days of mundane repetition. But… But… if those days leave smoke signals? If one day, as the sun dips below the horizon for the last time, shooting up its final orange flush against the heavens… and suddenly those long, winding, continuous, whisper thin streams of Love Given are illuminated! Turned into gold by the Light.
What a wonderful thing that would be.
Maybe. Maybe that’s the way that our long, wandering, repetitive, daily days… with very little to offer… become beauty beyond compare?