Perspective And Peace

A few weeks ago, during Mass, I glanced down at my hands. I noticed the beautiful manicure I received  while in Las Vegas was chipping. No worries. I had bought the same shade at the spa, so all I had to do was redo my nails, right? Who was I kidding? I was never going to do that! And even if I did, it would never last. I am forever washing dishes, folding laundry, wiping floors, and completing numerous other tasks that are not conducive to finely manicured hands. And as I sat there surrounded by my loving husband and children, it hit me. It's all right. I may not have perfectly manicured hands again for a very long time. But guess what?

I get to do dishes for a family that I love. I am privileged to have a washer and dryer to clean our clothes. I even have electricity to run those machines! I am blessed to have children that make my floors dirty enough to wipe. I realized yet again how blessed I am, and that perspective is everything. I got to thinking about other aspects of my life that I sometimes struggle with, and how looking at each of them in a different light brings me perspective. And peace.

I will never be a size four again. My entire youth and early adulthood I was tiny. Really tiny. Now, not so much. But I am comforted by the fact that this body nurtured and brought  four beautiful, blessed babies into this world. And every single way it is different now is more than worth it. And so now, a few pounds heavier, I am thankful for where I am with this body of mine. I eat what I want. In moderation, of course. Now I have to think about cholesterol! But I don't sweat the desserts I so enjoy. :)

I will most likely never push a baby of mine in a stroller. Or open the  nursery door to see my baby peeking out from the crib with that "just woke up" smile. I won't buy diapers or wipes or Gerber Rice cereal. I won't have that baby to sit with me while everyone else rides the big rides at the park. I am almost forty-seven years old, and my baby days are more than likely behind me. But. I had baby days! I was blessed to bring four new souls home from the hospital. I am honored to be a part of their lives and watch as each baby grows and changes into the individual God created each to be. And so I embrace each new stage, with excitement and wonder, mixed with a twinge of sadness. I am, after all, a mother.

I will never hold my Dad's hand again. I will never hear his voice on the other end of the phone. I won't see that smile or hear that laugh, or see those eyes light up ever again. I won't hear him call me his "Little Buddy" or invite him up for Chicken Cacciatore ever again. I won't smell his baby powder or bring him coffee and donuts. I won't ever see him sitting on my couch holding my mother's hand. This is a tough one. I will always struggle with it. But I force myself to look at it this way: Dad is in Heaven. His reward is being realized. He is happier, healthier, and holier than he ever was here. And as much as I miss him every single day, I am comforted by that fact. And by the fact that he lives on in things he taught me, the love he shared, and in my son, who resembles him more and more each day. And of course, I will see him again one day. That fact gives me peace.

I won't have pretty nails for awhile. I'll never wear a size four, or let's be honest, a size six again. I most likely will not need a stroller the next time we visit Disneyworld. And I will never hug my father here again. But you know what? If I look at it in the right way, as hard as it may seem, it really is all right. I just have to remind myself sometimes. And that brings me peace.

(Thanks Pinterest, for the quotes.)