Chaos, a word with immense transformational power, a word that when given life can create fear and a word I do not like to associate with my home. Yet here it is, I am standing in it; it is knee-deep, contains the remains of a joy filled weekend, and it is mine to create order from. Where do I begin?

First, I reflect on the words of a wise woman I read only last week, “This is your gentle reminder that you are not in control, that someone is looking out for you, wanting to get your attention – and most importantly, that when life does not go as planned, it is, always is, a good thing.” (Kasha Ritter, 2005) That helps, especially since it is so clearly evident as I survey the toy-strewn floor and the overflowing sink of dishes that I am most certainly NOT in control here. Where did I go wrong (right)? I intended on waking early Saturday morning and doing all my chores before my son woke up so we could spend the day hiking with friends, then with fun crossed off the list I could attend to all those other important matters. That was The Plan. The Plan failed to manifest and showed signs of deterioration immediately on Saturday morning when warm feet and a good book kept me under the covers until 9:00 am.

Somehow we made it to our friend’s house by eleven, where once again, fate stepped in, and the simple discovery that the sled hill still works when the snow is gone led to hours of pulling the toboggan up and down right in the back yard. We did eventually go hiking, I think we even made it five or six hundred meters down the trail, we picnicked, peeled logs, discovered tracks, a new waterfall due to runoff, and a bridge from which to recreate the game of ‘Pooh Sticks’, invented by that bear of eternal contentment and blissful now reality.

The entire weekend followed this pattern, and here it is Sunday night. There are those darn chores calling out to me, the to-do list that grew a few inches, even when neglected so completely for two days, and that fearful creature called a weekday that must be contended with in a mere nine hours. I again return to the words of that wise woman as she guides me further, “So, the next time your day ‘falls apart’, pause, say thanks, and enjoy the ride.” Now I feel my body relax as I look over at my son, who with the help of his friends created the natural disaster in our living room; his peaceful sleep comes from another day well-lived in which all possibilities were explored and heart- based desires followed. I am thankful, and I most certainly enjoyed the ride; within an hour the mess will be gone, and I will join him in the dream world.

Blessings,
Georgia