Looking for Eden

When I look at my friends, I see that they have such a variety of personalities.

I have a friend I call when I want to talk deeply about life, a friend who fills the "par-tay" category very nicely, and a creative friend who believes you can do anything yourself if you put your mind to it. I love the breadth of friendships I have been granted; each one is so precious to me.

It's funny to me how something might irritate one of my friends and the same situation will bead right off the back of another-- totally unaffected.

What's more, what is considered fun to one friend is considered frivolous to another. What is considered delicious to one is inedible to another. I revel in their differences. One friend will tell me that I must see a movie and another friend will "tsk, tsk" it altogether.

As I survey my friends and hear what makes them tick, I'm reminded that, while the irritation of one is the joy of another, ultimately we're all looking for Eden.

We're looking for a way to make our home perfect and not be irritated by dirt or outdated furniture.

We're looking for the perfect connection to our friends, our children, our spouse, and God.

We long for music that speaks to our soul, to purge the cliché from our lives.

We long for our bank accounts to be "above average" and for our faith in God to be spotless.

If you'll grant me the image of Eden, we long to be completely naked, without guile, innocent, content, fulfilled and happy.

Well, I won't speak for anyone but myself: I long for it with the sweet hot intensity of a thousand suns. *

I especially desire it on days at home that are long and arduous. I'm not one of those mothers who take life's silly antics and spins it into an opportunity for growth. I'm more of the "what the sam heck just happened here?" kind of mothers, continually reeling from very basic biology: "By jove, if I toss 24 oz. of fluid down my daughter's gullet, she will, in fact, need to release it. All of it."

"Mom, I need a lunch for today," my 2nd grader reminds me, to which I wish to retort, "Again? Didn't I just make you ten thousand sandwiches in the past 30 days?" Instead I smile and nod.

I wish I was naturally organized and smiled upon every spill and nuisance.

In my defense, I have started to say, "My, Morgan! Look how wonderfully you've grown! Your pants are up to your shins!" instead of the "Sweet mercy, child! You look like a flood victim. Fetch something that fits" that I want to say. I've learned the latter method works poorly. And due to some friends who have children with medical problems, I do indeed see that Morgan's growth is very much a blessing. I'm thankful.

I try to remember that I'm thankful when I buy mountains of clothes for said growing child or when I have to buy more toiletries because my 2 and a half year old uses an ENTIRE roll of toilet paper upon producing two drops of pee in the potty. I remember to be thankful that our toilet is strong and that I don't have a to call a plumber this time. *whew*

And if you'll grant me this, writing down my thoughts on this blog help me to see the reality of the mundanity of my current stage in life as well as my gratitude.

I can sigh at the laundry and still smile when I hear the washing machine running, a favorite sound of mine.

I can remember my salsa class dance steps on my hardwood floor while carefully mincing around Cheerios.

I can hear Eden in the midst of the chaos.


*A phrase that Dan is known for saying: "hot intensity of a thousand suns"