My Mask First

A friend gave me a great analogy the other day.

We were talking about getting too busy to take care of ourselves and I made the comment that I can take better care of my family if I take care of myself. I didn't mean neglect my family to take care of myself (wants), I meant take care of myself so I can better serve my family.

She said, "Like putting on your oxygen mask first so you can help others."

Exactly.

Nail on the head.

I have this bad habit of getting too busy. And I mean too busy to take care of myself or anyone else. Bad, bad habit.

Nevertheless, the Good Lord has a way of bringing me around to the truth and redirecting my steps. Unfortunately it often comes in the form of illness or some other trial that makes me stop and say, "Oops. Too busy with the wrong things again."

Today I worked a long day at school. It was busy.

Emotional (my 8th graders are graduating on to high school).

Tiring.

So when I got home and looked at my much-in-need-of-attention kitchen, I contemplated what to tackle first. Then, I found out my husband was going fishing. Needing a sandwich to take with fishing. And, my kids and daughter's friend were going to youth group. Needing something to eat before we leave youth group.

I made BLTs.

Then, as they got ready to leave, I put on my oxygen mask (a.k.a. went for a four mile walk).

It was lovely. Refreshing. Quiet. Rejuvenating. I walked away today and breathed in the clean, fresh air.

When I came back home to an empty house, I organized my thoughts and decided to tackle the kitchen. No stress here. My oxygen mask was working just fine. Breathe. Clean. Breathe. Ahhh.

I made a sandwich for my hubby's lunch tomorrow. He will breathe easier.

I chopped some veggies and fruit to leave on the counter for three coming home hungry teens to shove into their mouths instead of just potato chips. I imagine myself putting on their oxygen masks, mine flowing free with fresh air.

I clean up the kitchen. Shine the sink. Stuff the bills in a cupboard. Who can do it all in one day?

I feel calm.

Fresh.

Air.

Who can help others when they themselves are suffocating?

Struggling for air.

Weak.

Tired.

Before I began my kitchen work, I took off my oxygen mask. No crisis. No need.

Tomorrow I'm certain I'll need it again. Maybe I'll walk off another day. Maybe I'll watch a movie. Maybe I'll just sit and be quite. Maybe.

Don't Miss It

Springtime at my country home is always a game of hit or miss. There is so much life bursting forth! I have to be diligent to get outside and walk around so I don’t miss some of the main events that come with spring.

The problem is, so many things aren't on the calendar. Yes, there are plenty of dates marked down. We can count on them. First day of spring, Easter, Mother’s Day. Sure enough, they were all on time.

But what about the first daffodils? Buds on the trees? Ducklings in the pond?

Pretty little wildflowers sprouting up in and around the woods.

If I'm not careful, they are easily missed.

I don’t know what these are (below). But I do know the last time I walked around the north side of my house they weren't there. But last night...

 And the trilliums! A favorite.

Suddenly.

That’s when some of the best spring stuff happens. Suddenly.

I think life is kind of like that. The best stuff happens suddenly. Unexpectedly.

A letter in the mail.

A hug from a child.

A smile.

An opportunity to tell someone you love them.

A trillium.

Spring.

Here now. Then, gone.

Spring.

Life.

Don’t miss the details. The suddenly stuff.

Life Out of Death

Here on planet Earth, death is an inescapable pursuer.

A relentless foe.

Nemesis.

Ultimately, the victor. Here on planet Earth.

Last fall my dad planted strawberries in one of my gardens. I love strawberries. I dutifully watered the transplants and covered them with straw before winter set in. They were under there for many, many cold months.

When my husband uncovered them this spring, it appeared we had waited too long. Everything was dead. No sign of life. Mold. Rot. Decomposing death.

Defeated, we turned our attention to things still living. After all, what do you do with death besides bury it?

Mourn.

Move on.

The other day I walked down to the strawberry garden. Or rather, what I had hoped would be a strawberry garden. Perhaps I was going to pay my respects? As one visiting a grave?

While my grief did not come close to rivaling that of most other deaths, I still felt remorse. After all, my dad had taken a lot of trouble to dig up plants for me, driving many miles to plant them in my garden. That, and I love strawberries.

When I walked throught the garden gate, contemplating what to do with that garden spot, I was met with a surprise.

Life.

Tiny, green, sprouts of life. And they were coming right up out of the death that I thought had won.

Life up out of death. Here on planet Earth.

Imagine.

This has happened before. Life suddenly springing up out of death.

I think about so many, many things in my past that I took for dead.

Once we had a dozen tomato plants that looked very, very dead. But by the end of summer, miracle of miracles, a bountiful harvest of tomatoes. Unexplainable.

And other things, too.

Oh, hello, I thought you were dead. But, no, here you are. Resurrected.

Plants.

Dreams.

Hope.

Relationships.

Resurrected.

Sometimes it seems so impossible. So very, very impossible. But then, I think of the cross.

Man.

Dead.

Buried.

God.

Resurrected.

Life.

Hope.