The breakfast mess on Mother’s Day is one of the memories I will treasure the most.
I spent a lot of time Saturday working out in the yard. Spring has been a long time coming this year and there’s always much to be done when the earth finally wakes up from its winter slumber. One of my tasks was doing some serious cleaning on my back porch. Besides the regular crud that accumulates during the winter months, those of us who live in Georgia, have this fabulous yellow-green pollen that blankets everything like a layer of snow.
I got the hose and some Comet and got on my hands and knees and scrubbed. Then I swapped out winter plants for summer ones. Finally, I put down my new rug I purchased, and my porch was Pinterest-worthy. I couldn’t wait to get up the next morning (which happened to be Mother’s Day) and have a cup of coffee on my newly cleaned porch and enjoy my new rug and my new plants.
I mean, I was like a kid on Christmas Eve, so excited to enjoy the fruits of my labor. I did get up Sunday morning and have that cup of coffee on the porch. I listened to the birds as I watched nature come alive. I read my Bible and wrote in my journal. I stroked my dog, who snuggled next to me. I prayed and thanked God for this glorious morning. I felt completely at peace.
Then, my hubby, joined by our daughter, came out carrying a huge tray of food with a card on it. We talked and enjoyed our breakfast. Next, my son came stumbling in with his breakfast. We all sat and talked for quite a while, soaking up the morning and basking in each other’s company.
As we reluctantly, got up to start our day, I ran and got my camera. My son grabbed a plate when he saw me aiming at the table full of dishes. I told him to put it back down. He looked very puzzled as he complied. I told him I had a post idea. My family is used to this by now. They don’t even ask what in the world I must be thinking anymore.
The table full of dishes told a much more beautiful story than the Pinterest-worthy porch ever could. The dishes were evidence of a family coming together for a meal. The dishes represented a family communing together out of desire, not duty. Everyone is expected to come to the dinner table every night. But, breakfast is looser. It’s optional on the weekends.
They didn’t have to come to the porch. They could have eaten in the kitchen like they do every morning. My kids and my husband, chose togetherness. Those dishes were like trophies to me.
Life is so short and the one thing we all wish we had more of, is time. It’s the one thing that is finite. The people in our lives are gifts from God. A meal and time with those people we hold dear, is something to treasure and the dirty dishes, well they are just a reminder of time well spent.
I’m going to try to embrace all of the dirty dish moments in my life. Care to join me? I’d love to hear from you.
Have an awesome day!
Wendy 🙂