Right here. Right now.

This lent was a season for me to focus on learning how to be still and not so distracted. Giving up social media for 40 days served this purpose well. Allowing me to be more present with my presence. Leaning me towards life in the right here and the right now.

The right here and now is intense and challenging and not at all dreamy.

But I want to write about it so that I remember. So that I can truthfully acknowledge the challenges in my days. So that I can be realistic in my writings and not merely idealistic.

The here and now finds my alarm buzzing at 5:00am. Snooze. Snooze. Wake up. Shower, hair, make-up. Enjoy a hot breakfast made with love by Jesse and a few minutes of coffee flavored quiet time together. We just sit and eat in silence, grateful for these moments until we hear...

"I NEED BRAKFAST!" - and out comes the wee little man with his adorable scruffy morning voice under his adorable scruffy morning hair. And our time together has passed. The two-year old is now awake, in need of cuddles and attention and care before the flurry of prepping meds, prepping breakfast, and prepping lunches begins. 

With everything prepped for everyone else - I head out the door. Anatomy + Physiology class begins at 7:30am sharp. The quiet car ride through the morning fog. The occasional glimpse of orangish red through the towering PNW firs to the east. The privilege to pursue my dreams, to take notes, to learn. Pre-requisites for grad school. 

While I'm in class four mornings a week, Jesse helps Sarah and Jodi with showers, breakfast, teeth brushing and getting on the bus. He takes Caden to preschool. He drives through the mid-morning haze towards the mountains, towards the rising sun to his other full-time work.  

After class I study as much as I can. Amid menu planning and buying groceries. Scheduling appointments. Attending meetings,  planning meetings. Grabbing coffee with a friend.  I pick up Caden from pre-school. 

Lunch time. The day has only just begun. Sit down. I made a commitment this year to sit down and enjoy my lunch. No more washing dishes while eating lunch. No more email responding while eating lunch. No more chasing the two-year old while eating lunch. Sit down. Breathe. Relax. Taste. Enjoy. Just eat lunch. Everything else can wait.

Nap time. Finally.  I claim the couch for a coveted 15-30 minutes. Rest. Recharge. Renew. Read. Be still. Find inspiration. Another 15-30 minutes. Ready to go again. Right here. Right now.

Emails. Phone calls. Meetings. Paperwork. Calendars. Researching ideas. Problem solving. Cleaning. Laundry. Organizing. 

Ding-dong. The bus is here. The ladies are home. Needing guidance. Needing support. Needing life to be shared.

The little one will wake fully re-charged soon, so dinner prep must be underway. Chop, cut, shred,  sauté, steam, blend. Cooking brings me calm. Rhythm in the mundane. Control in the chaos. Joy in the moment. Right here. Right now.

"MY CLOCK IS GREEN!" he yells: and the nap is done. The door slams. Here he comes racing, running, ripping, roaring. Post-nap hugs and drooly kisses. Dreamy stories about lions and giraffes. Time for a snack. Time for a game. Time for a book. Time to help mom cook. 

Sometimes I don't have much left to give when I give it all to dinner. After dinner I just want to clock out and let another clock in. But the other has also worked for 8 hours and is now on his way to class. Driving through the drizzly rain. To Seattle University. To learn. To grow. To change. 

So I take a deep breath and I get ready to push to the end. You can't give up now. The day is not yet done. You can do this. Showers and baths. Patience running thin. Dishes and clean up. Save a plate for Jesse. Medications and dessert. Raising my voice harshly. Sigh. I try again. Band practice, puzzles, and story time.  Tired, I get frustrated easily. Can I really do this? I try again. Big breath. Pajamas. Big sighs. C'mon we're almost there. Teeth brushing. We made it. I apologize for my cranky attitude. Thankful for grace. There was enough for today. Goodnight hugs. 

Wherever you are be all there. Be all there. Be all here. Right here. Right now.

The door opens, he's home again at last. Tired. Happy. Exhausted. Excited. Hungry. Saved a plate for Jesse. Sitting at the table in quiet once more. Sharing stories about the day. Prepping for tomorrow. Discussing weekend plans. Studying on the couch until our eyelids become too heavy. Sleep puts us to bed and tucks us in. Reminding us of our dreams, and that this is just a season.

This is a season. We're here for a reason. Right here. Right now.