Messy Is Beautiful

Air flowed in, and out, punctuating a second, and then another one, as I caught my breath at the end of an early morning Sunday beach run. I was staying in a rental cottage, and the sea sounds and saltiness brushing across my skin felt dreamy. My fingers clicked open the iron gate, leading back to the sidewalk where I headed home to my waking family. The sun was still low in the sky, rising hopeful with each bit of air that swirled in, and each time my rubber tread pushed off the pavement, I felt more excited for the day. Along with my feet, my limbs propelled me forward, while my lungs tried to slow me down. The sky sparkled cyan atop bright yellow and orange daffodils lining white picket fences, with green lawns that carpeted the foreground of Victorian cottages. It was like I had been dropped into a Beatrix Potter story and a bunny had just hopped by. If I followed him, the next page could take me anywhere.

Then I heard a loud bark that blasted the question into my head, “Did you remember to let the dogs in?” and that simple thought was like a snap above a zipper of items that zzzzzzzd down the crooked pathways in my brain. Each zip pierced me with all of the stupid things that I had done yesterday, all of the impossible things that I needed to do today, all of the undone things that I needed to get done for tomorrow, and the next day, and the year after that. It also reminded me how I would fail at all of it, and how I would get nothing much accomplished, even if I tried my hardest, but I had better run along anyway. I had better get going FAST. My heart pounded at the bone between my breasts, perspiration dripped from my temples, dropping to the landing of the porch where I had arrived with a THUD.

So what did I do? Well, I ran up the stairs to my room, past the sound of the TV, and I flopped on to my bed to write. Maybe the pen could help ease my mind….And here’s the gist of what I wrote:

What if I were to flick off the high-pitched cartoon yapping at my kids, and proclaim that today is like a cake that we can mix up. We can make it thick and heavy, or light and foamy. We can spread it around, lick it, inhale its aromas, and layer its luscious colors and flavors. We can make this day into one of kite flying, of running our toes into the cool ocean ripples, of tossing a neon Frisbee through the air, above the carmel-colored sand, and laughing when it spins perfectly into our outstretched hands. We can eat sweet red strawberries and make egg sandwiches with crispy, buttered toast. 

We can abandon our responsibilities and simply delight in this day. 

Today can be a day to put away our worries, our fears, our anger, our disappointment, our expectations, our embarrassments, our shame. I’m going to stuff all of that crap (that pretends life isn't supposed to be messy) under the big shoe bin in closet, where it can’t get away. I’m going to press the door shut with the force of my body. I’m going to lock it there TIGHT so that we can live like a family really CAN live… gripping and hugging and eating up every second of time together. Messy or not.

Alleluia!

That’s sort of what I wrote (I admit, I edited.)

And guess what? It worked! I drifted out of my bedroom once again smiling. I emptied all of the crappy stuff in my brain into the closet and simply abandoned it. (Thank God the closets are big in this place.) And then I went on to have a day full of memorable moments at church, at this cottage, in the kitchen, and outdoors with my kids and my husband. 

The snapshots of my day weren't perfect. They were better, actually. Real life today was richer than words or pictures. It was like deep dark organic chocolate spilling all over and making a ridiculous mess, but tasting so darned good, anyway. It made me think, "Give me more chocolate. Now!" It’s flavors were satisfying because I didn't mind getting dirty. I could smile at the messiness of our day, I could clean it up with my fingers, sweep my tongue over it, and get it all over my lips.

I’m thankful for this minute, and the next one, and the next that I have to live a messy, beautiful and real life with my family—when I’m able to transcend the worries from the past, fly over the fears of the future, and simply eat up each delicious moment that we have. Together. Now.