The past few weeks KP has been racking up the miles. He's flying places for a day to attend a meeting, then jetting back for a morning conference at his home office. And I'm also not talking about boring places. I'm talking the Big Apple, the Windy City. For a travel loving wife, each trip breaks my heart a little. That may seem dramatic, but the travel bug bit me in the summer of 1997 on a family trip to London and hasn't let up since. I'm the one who sees a plane in the sky and wishes I was on it. When I go to the airport, I have a hard time not throwing caution to the wind and heading for the international terminal.
It's times like these that I question my decision to stay at home with my children. While KP grabs a bite at a trendy NYC establishment, I'm wiping up the food that missed MP's mouth for at least the third time that day from under the table. While he's talking about important things with important people, the highlight of my day is figuring out how to inflate AP's bicycle tire. Normally we'd wait for Daddy to come home, but Daddy won't be home for 3 more days and that's too long to wait.
I send AP off down the driveway on her bike, the extent of my horizon on many days . I take a moment to wallow in the fact that the furthest I drove that day was to the store and back. Then she calls out, "Mommy, I'm doing it!" On training wheels, she's made it down the driveway without another push. To be honest, she didn't physically need her mother there. Anyone could have helped her adjust her helmet, get on her bike, and send her on her way. But her voice pulls me from my moment and I realize that I made the decision to be home because I wanted to be there. I want to be the one who sees those moments. I want to be the one she wakes up calling for and the one she comes home to each day.
I know there are plenty of people who wish they could be in my shoes and can't. People who don't want to hear me complain for one second. I realize the blessing the choice is borne from. But like any job, most days bring monotony with the occasional highlight. And there are certainly more glamorous jobs.
But this Valentine's Day I experienced a moment that has me absolutely sure my choice is the right one. Amidst the chaos that was AP's class Valentine's party, I noticed a bulletin board on the wall. The title was "what makes my heart happy". Each child gave an answer and it was written on a heart shaped piece of paper. There were sweet answers: my sister, my mommy and daddy. There were funny answers: playing with frogs. And there, right in the middle, was AP's heart. It said "being with God." I almost broke down in tears right there, fell on my knees, and thanked my heavenly Father. I knew in my heart of hearts that she gets it. She didn't just come up with that answer. I asked her later about the board and she remembered what she said. She gave her answer again with confidence. I told her how happy it makes my heart that she knows God loves her, that she wants to be with and know Him.
There was the highlight. And it was a big one. The rest of the day was full of cleaning up messes, breaking up fights, and the sights and sounds - some good, some bad - that two little girls bring to our household. I don't remember much of the details of all that now. However, I won't ever forget AP's heart on the preschool wall, a literal sign that the faith I'm attempting to instill in my little girl is there. The daily in and out, the dirty floors, the dust on my passport are all part of my life now. But those moments make it all worth it. It's those moments that leave me flying high.
