Many of us have been there...we come home from a long day of work, just to be greeted by a messy house. This recently happened to me. Like an old weary ninja, I traversed the land-mine laden living room booby-trapped with dinosaurs, legos and blankets, all the while grasping my used coffee mug, backpack and gym bag, just to be able to get to a safe place to sit. The distant chatter of my kids can be heard, certainly not in the same room as I am, and certainly not picking up after themselves. In fact, they are likely setting more traps for this old weary ninja to have to evade, when I wander into a different portion of my house. The overwhelming mess of it all, and the frequency of coming home to said mess, certainly wears on me. I should be able to come home, should be able relax a little, and should be able to do so in a space that is clear of clutter and debris, right?! My internal environment needs to match the external environment of my sanctuary, my home, my safe space. Most parents can empathize with this idea, and most parents can also likely empathize that this idea is just simply not the case, not with the tornados that are our children.
As many of you know, I have 4 boys, and the ages range from 15 on down to 4. The types of messes they leave tend to highlight their age differences as well. Wrappers from candies or fruit snacks that have been snuck out of the pantry, strewn throughout the living room. Toys for all the ages seen about, and in the strangest of places; 6 inch superhero figures all the way up to expensive electronics and the controllers they come with. Dried food particles and liquid stains expertly hidden from parental view, painting my furniture and carpets, like nuggets of gold for us to find on a later date. Clothing. So. Much. Clothing. I attempted to take a shower later that same evening, only to have to clumsily dance over a couple of Godzillas in the bathtub. Such an irritating welcome to a hot shower that I was looking forward to, and much needed after a long day at work and school!
I found myself reflecting on this scenario not too long ago. "One day, you might just miss this mess."
These boys will one day spread their wings and fly the nest. Their stuff will be packed up and moved to a college dorm room, or a first-time apartment. They will have friends and family of their own, schedules and activities of their own, worries and distractions of their own. They will grow into adults, and they will be preoccupied with their own life before my wife and I know it. Their space can be as messy as mine! On the surface, what a wonderful thought to have! I relish in the thought of one day shrugging my shoulders, cocky smirk on my face, sitting back with a glass of tea like the Kermit meme and say something to the effect of "ha, not so easy to keep a clean home, is it?!" But one day, I might just miss that mess. I don't have a sad reaction to a thought too often anymore, but the idea of my loved ones not being around is one that I have learned to sit with. In fact, one of my previous blogs is about just that. But this thought elicited a sad reaction. It's easier to understand grief in the context of a loved one's death, but how often do we think about grief in the context of our loved ones moving out? Moving away? Or becoming busier with their own life and slowly stepping back from our family time?
It dawned on me; I would much rather have a house full of mess, noise, quirks and minor irritants from the ones I love, than a house full of silence because they are gone. The mess, the noise, the irritants, they are a subtle reminder that there is still life in this house. Yet, all of us young parents (you are a young parent if you have any age child in the home, change my mind) are on a collision course with the reality that this will all change one day. Perhaps there are some of you that have already experienced the empty nest that I am talking about, and can relate to the sense of sadness or isolation that I am beginning to dread. I understand that pets can also fill a home with these same things, and the loss of pets can be devastating for some. This blog should appeal to you too, as I am willing to bet you have loved ones in your life currently that you are fostering a relationship with, on some level. Life is of the nature to change, and nothing is permanent. This thought is terrifying, but so important to learn to sit with, for it has the potential to add sweetness to the present moment with the loved ones I am talking about. Mindfulness does not come easy to the human mind, a fact that I contend with on a daily basis through my counseling work. We are of the nature to be distracted. We are of the nature to be too far in the past, or too far in the future. Mindfulness of the moment is a delicate balance between worry about the future and sadness or regret from our past. We often regret the small opportunities we've missed to engage with our loved ones, and this always happens after they leave. We rarely experience regret in the moment, as regret is an emotion resulting from reflecting on our past. That is when it seems to hit the hardest. The present moment affords us the opportunity to engage with our loved ones still in our life, for they are right in front of us! Whether a phone call away, through FaceTime, Zoom or if they still live in proximity to us, our loved ones are still accessible.
The present moment is truly the only moment that exists in your timeline. The past might only visit you through the ghost of regret. The future does not yet exist. These concepts fuel my devotion to mindfulness of the moment, and I am hoping that it encourages you to do the same. Some of our loved ones may not be lost to death. One day, the young men that I am raising will leave the nest, and will have long taken their toys with them. Long taken their mess, their quirks, their noise with them. I know my wife and I will miss that. I know we will want to have some of that mess back, and will likely cherish the mess that will hopefully come from grandkids, and the fresh land-mine laden terrain that comes with them. I hope that we will be able to drop into those moments and be mindful, because life is of the nature to change. I don't want to live with regret, I don't want to wonder 'what if', I don't want to accidentally set myself up for sorrow, and in order to avoid those scenarios, I must tend to these present moments. Our closest, safest relationships are built on these small moments, they are built on the mundane time in the day, and I encourage you to not take these small moments for granted. Learn to cherish these moments, learn to build in these moments, learn to look for them.
I will learn to love Godzillas in the bathtub.
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