Transforming the funk

So, I've been in a funk lately.  


Running, running, running....
yet seemingly going nowhere.
And nothing gets done. 
The clothes are still not put away,
the dishes impregnate, 
and dirt.
Oh my.
Where does it come from?


Two words.
Little boys.


It is just how it is. 
And how it will be.
And maybe even,
how it should be.


And yet, some days it is just so exhausting.
The attitude,
the mess,
the monotony of the hamster wheel that seems to never. stop. never. stop. never. stop....


As I turn out of the drive to catch a few hours of mama-brain time,
here run two pint-sized beauties,
reflections of their (F)ather,
waving hog-wild after me...


"Mom! Mooooooom! I love you! 
Happy Mother's Day! 
(Thanks, albeit a few weeks late)
Merry Christmas!  
(The little one trying to keep up with the holiday cheer) 
L've you!"


I smile. 
Smile because I am going out...alone? 
Of course,
but my heart beams. 


Two boys.


Chaos. 
Of course...
because I have
two boys.


Why do I forget?
How can I forget the blessings?


They fall fresh upon,
dusting off the tiredness,
the monotony.
I have be given
two
boys.


Two messy,
crazy,
syrupy-sweet,
boys. 

I realize that in the remembering of these blessings,
and giving thanks, 
transformation takes hold.
Of everything.


In the moment of this epiphany my soul hearkens to the one I cannot shake in this Easter season, when the cloaked Jesus appears.

As they came near the village to which they were going, 

he walked ahead as if he were going on. 

But they urged him strongly, saying, 

‘Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.’ 

So he went in to stay with them. 

When he was at the table with them, 

he took bread, 

blessed and broke it, 

and gave it to them. 

Then their eyes were opened, 

and they recognized him; 

and he vanished from their sight. 

~Luke 24:28-32

For the eyes of these weary travelers were opened, 

not only as they offered hospitality--

as they opened their home,

a place to stay, play, eat, be to this one passing through-- 

But it was in the very act of giving thanks for "their daily bread,"

that they saw the Christ.

They saw the One who was with them the entire time.

For in the act of giving thanks

for the daily blessings of life,

it transforms,

awakens

my dull heart

to see the true gifts in my life.

And the One that is always present...

even in the pint-sized packages.

Especially in the pint-sized packages.

Holy work.

(Which is also, holy work, Batman!)

Though I do this never alone,

always with the Christ that journeys with.

Offering strength and sustenance.

May I not forget.

And if when I do...

Christ, meet me 

again

on this laundry-stained road.