Confessions From Vacation

Our family has been away the past week; away in another world. A world of sunshine and blue skies and no cares but our own. A world of sleep and relaxing and doing nothing...or something...just as we chose. We took our own selfishness and human flaws along with us, to be sure, as you will see in this piece written early one morning last week.......

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In the semi-darkness, my eyes take in the clutter of clothes and suitcases and abandoned footwear. The flat surfaces are strewn with discarded cups and empty bags. The trash can overflows with the rubble of seven people. My order loving heart chafes at the messy chaos; there's too many people in one room and this introvert soul is reaching a breaking point. Slipping down onto the ugly, striped carpet in the pale glow of early morning, I clutch at a sliver of solitude as one person moans in their sleep and another snores blissfully on - that same snore that so annoyed a third at 2:00 this morning.

It's a dream vacation, taking everyone to Florida during school's week of winter break. When their dad broke the news to them of the plan, the children all looked at me in wonderment to see if he was serious. But halfway in, I confess, I'm not feeling very dreamy and the guilt of that fact threatens to overpower any fun I am having. I had desperately wanted our own space, see - a house, an Airbnb, something. But the plan was short notice and it was hard to beat other prices and I had sweetly said I would be ok with whatever he decided. After all, he didn't have to take us anywhere!


But I wasn't really ok with whatever.

Messiness and chaos and no personal space just get to me, that's all. How can it be a vacation when I'm constantly smashed into the same space with six others, unable to even enjoy a private conversation with my own husband? At every turn my stubborn mind aches to point out the benefits of what I so desperately thought was better. I don't want to be like that but how can I not when I feel like I'm suffocating?



I see a slice of blue sky through the parted curtain - the part carefully made at night so the room isn't too dark for the little people - and I remember yesterday and the blue, blue sky and the puffy white clouds and a little boy reveling in the wonder of the ocean's waves. It was sheer joy just to watch him. Into the waves and then out; laying down to let the water rush over him; head up in surprise when the water nearly got his face, and all the while giggling and bouncing with delight.

 Then their was the drama queen who was shivering with cold and tearfully disappointed at the cold water and the strength of the crashing waves. Sitting in a dejected huddle under her towel, on the beautiful, sandy beach, she could think of nothing to do and her mind was fixed on one thought - the pool back at the motel. The mother in me wanted to shake her. Indeed, the lecture I delivered was rather much like a hard shake that might rattle the teeth.

Laying, now, on the hard floor as the occupants in the room slept on, I wondered if it was me, instead, who deserved the lecture and a good, hard shake. Was I not quite a lot like the drama queen myself, unable to recognize extravagant beauty and privilege in the face of my own selfish little heart?

"Really, woman. Do you know how blessed you are? Look at your children sleeping peacefully - one, two, three, four, five. Once, they were tucked away safely under your heart; once they were tiny, dependant on you for life; once they needed you for everything. Look at them now, stretching tall and strong, yet still content to all be huddled together in one room. This week is an incredible gift. It won't be long till they're all independent, finding their own way in the world and making their own plans. The time left to make these close knit memories is fast passing by; don't waste it. Do you hear me? Whatever you do, Do Not Waste It."

Thoroughly chastised, I slip back into the cozy bed. The room is still silent, I've had my sliver of space. It's a beautiful day and I'm thankful, so thankful, to be spending it in close proximity with these special people.            

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That early morning lecture on the floor was well taken. I must say, we had a most amazing week together. And now, we are home. I'm finding the drama queen tendencies crop up just as easily in this world. It's cold and drab and brown here, with piles of laundry and Real Life staring me in the face first thing this morning. But there's just as much extravagant privilege here, if I'll open my eyes. Just as many special moments to not miss; just as little fleeting time. I find myself needing the same lecture here as anywhere else, "Don't waste it. Do you hear me? Whatever you do, Do Not Waste It."