ordinary days

Tuesday morning as I turned the corner out of our street and came to an abrupt halt for a school bus stop sign I locked eyes with a woman dropping off her kids.  It was almost pitch black out but she couldn't have been clearer standing under the street lamp.  I immediately felt a twinge of jealousy over her bed head, flannel jammies, and large snoopy mug as she shuttled her two littles up those dirty bus steps and headed back inside.  For all I know she had a sleeping baby and a fast food job waiting for her that day but for just a moment I wished it was me standing there.  I imagined coming home to an empty house and hunkering down in front of the fire with my stack of books and the perfect nap blanket.  I thought of recipes I wanted to make and life I was desperate to record.
As I neared the interstate with Ian singing "I am holding on to you," in the backseat I considered something new.  I started to wonder what she thought when she saw me.  Did she wish she had a reason to curl her hair at 7am and put on a cute necklace?  Did she wish she had a set of keys around her neck?  Did she wish she could trade her cozy mug for Starbucks?  Probably not I thought.  But maybe.

I'm not sure if it's just women who play this comparing game but I do know that if self pity were a currency I would be very, very rich.  

As I drove I was reminded of how many days I longed for answers about how my gifts and passions would play out.  How many days I wondered if there would ever be extra money to go out to dinner and splurge on a bag of pecans at Costco. (seriously they're like $20!)  And now that I get to walk into a classroom with outstretched arms and the 3 year old chant of "Teacher Rebekah is here!  I was waiting for you." and splurge on not only pecans but travel hummus, I still resort to discontentment and jealousy.  

I remembered that quote from the office about wishing there was a way to know you're in the good old days before you've actually left them.  I know this but sometimes, ok a lot of times, I forget.  These messy days of teaching and mentoring families and not remembering where I'm picking up my daughter and coordinating schedules and falling asleep before 8pm and Safeway lasagna and showing up at soccer games in the wrong colored jersey and 5am quiet times and tear stained cheeks while sitting in traffic, these are the good days for our family.  Honestly, I wish I wasn't still having to process these changes. Yet every sunrise brings a new plea.  A prayer that I would have eyes to see that this is where He wants me.  This is where I will flourish because I have committed these ordinary days to Him and He promises to set the pavers in front of me.  And just in case I forget, a nightly reminder from my 4 year old to be ever thankful for the small gifts.