What's the Point, You Ask?

I had a pretty powerful moment yesterday, and I am not sure if I can do it any justice, but I feel compelled to share it for some reason. The moment played over and over in my mind for a few hours last night, as I tried, unsuccessfully to get to sleep. When I finally resigned myself to trying to describe it on this blog, I was able to fall asleep. So, share it, I must.

It occurred after I gleefully ate my dandelion salad. Paige, who nibbled on a little bit of rice, had crawled over to the sofa and curled up. Her thumb was in her mouth and she fell asleep. Tony, on the other hand, was running around like Marley, tearing up paper, throwing pillows, jumping up and down - the boy had the energy of a meteorite. I told him to go exploring outside with Gracie. He said, "Okay."

I sat on the porch with a C.S. Lewis book in hand, and tried to read, glancing around the yard every few seconds to see that Tony was okay. After a few minutes, I closed the book, set it down and looked up at the sky. I said, "I don't get it God. I don't get it, and I know I shouldn't be angry with you, but I am. I am so angry that this happened. And I am so angry that I wake up every morning and have no idea what to do with my life. I have this great job in this terrible economy and I hate it. I have this ability to write, and I don't do it for some reason. I have this heart, full of love, and I don't have anyone to share it with. I need your help. Not a whisper on the breeze, not a veiled communication - I need You to tell me what the point is of all of this. What is the point? And what am I supposed to do with my life?" Of course, I was crying... missing my brother, and missing my confidence in making a decision about my career path, or a decision about my ultimate purpose for this life. I talked for a long time, watching Tony as he moved around the yard.

When I ran out of things to say, I took a deep breath and listened. Birds, breezes, cars passing, Gracie running, my own breaths; and then I felt: the grain of wood under my hands, the tears as they dried on my cheeks, the breeze across the bangs on my forehead; and silently, I said, "Open my heart, my eyes and my mind to see what You want from me." At that moment, Tony came from around the barn with a stick in his hand, leading Gracie with it. He said something to her, threw the stick and watched her for a few seconds. Then he put his hands on his hips and looked around. He looked up at the sky, followed a bird with his eyes, scanned the horizon, the dilapidated garden, and then the play yard. He walked over to it, and I thought for sure he would get on the swing and start swinging. Instead, he sat on the wood that contains it. He sat like an old man on a bench. He cupped his face in his hands as his elbows rested on his knees and continued looking around.

I stood on the deck and watched him, stared at him really with no thoughts except that he was just beautiful. I watched as he looked down at his feet, and the grass surrounding his feet. Amongst the clovers and grass was a flowering weed - just a tiny, white blossom among the green. He picked it. And I thought, "I know he picked that for me, he'll look up now and smile." So, I made sure to keep my eyes on him so that our eyes would meet. But he didn't look up. He twirled the flower between his thumb and pointer and then continued to look around. For five minutes, I watched him twirl that flower in his fingers. And my heart filled with thoughts of only love - my love for him, my love for Paige, my love for my family, for myself and for God. At that point, Tony looked up and caught my eyes. And he smiled and began walking toward the steps of the deck. He said, "This is for you Mommy, but after I give it to you, I am going to sit back down and rest." I met him in the middle of the stairs, took the flower and kissed him, and said, "Thank you my dear boy." And he said, "I love you Mommy." He turned, walked back down the stairs and sat back on the wood, observing nature.

I sniffed the tiny bud, and actually caught the scent of a flower on that weed. And it smelled like love. I had learned my purpose.