An Awful and Amazing Life

Sometimes you end up in a public restroom, minutes before your preschooler's Christmas program begins, standing at the baby changing station (positioned squarely in view of any and everyone in the facilities at the time), catching your daughter's runny poop in your hand. Repeatedly. And then trying to wipe it off her cute, holiday-esque, bright red overalls while she continues to let it loose faster than a faucet.

What? You didn't see my photo of that on social media? Bet you saw this one: 

Or how about the sheer terror that suddenly erupts from 1/2 of your four children's mouths as a loud roller coaster suddenly whizzes by overheard, scaring the bejeezus out of the little unsuspecting spectators. 

Missed that one, too? But you saw this pic shared publicly, right?:

How about the lecture that was required right there in the middle of the parking lot, as dozens of happy families joyfully walked by, because your son needed a reminder of how lucky he was to even be able to attend Winterfest, thankyouverymuch, and didn't need to blame his parents for his own fear and subsequent refusal to ride a rollercoaster (of course, deciding he was finally ready to ride said coaster, which just so happened to be situated at the very back of the amusement park, as the fam o' six made it out to the parking lot)? 

No public record of that conversation? 

Oh, I know, I know: how about the multiple cups of flour that erupted from a bowl and covered the kitchen in a flour-y snow as a certain momma stood cursing nearby, trying to figure out how to use the newly borrowed stand mixer to produce batch after batch (after batch after batch after batch) of cookie dough to make a little extra money to buy her husband a Christmas surprise without him knowing about it (except, by the way, he ended up finding out about the surprise)? 

Hmmm....I guess the flour was already cleaned up and only pics of the cute packaged bundles of dough were displayed for all to see? Imagine that. 

I read this quote out of an awesome book my LifeGroup girls and I are studying right now. I think it's pretty suitable for this exact juncture:

Life is amazing. And then it's awful. And then it's amazing again. And in between the amazing and the awful, it's ordinary and mundane and routine. Breathe in the amazing, hold on through the awful, and relax and exhale during the ordinary. That's just living, heart-breaking, soul-healing, amazing, awful, ordinary life. And it's breathtakingly beautiful. L.R. Knost

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My takeaway? 

Sometimes life looks like tear-inducing preschool programs, twinkling Christmas lights, squeals of joy, grateful children, and perfectly decorated cookies.

And sometimes it looks like a momma who is covered in poop one day, flour the next; one who  may or may not yell at her children to BE KIND OR BE QUIET (ironic, dontyathink?). Sometimes life looks like children who complain, mommas who are so much nicer and more patient in the morning, and dads who simply skim emails from their wives ("Didn't you see the date of parent observation day?! I emailed it to you!"). We don't often see these moments shared for the world to see. But they are there, and often, moreso than the bright, shiny, happy moments that ARE shared for the world to see.

Life can be both amazing and awful - there are ever-changing, unpredictable seasons, ones that ebb and flow. But to me? Life is all about the ordinary moments in between - the spaces where memories are made.

As Christmas approaches, may your ordinary moments feel extraordinary for what they are: your one wild and precious life.