Sacred Mundane: The Blog

As I type these words we’re one-third the way through a 6-week, cross-country family road-trip, crossing 20 states and nearly 9,000 miles.

Our 15-, 13-, 3-, and 1-year-old kids are loving the adventure so far, and it’s brought us some clarity about the mission and vision for our family along the way.

Any type of vacation or excursion is costly, both in time and resources, so how do we decide what’s worth our time and money?

3 ways to make family vacations worthwhile

These are the three priorities we used to plan our course: (Read the rest over at Simple Homeschool…)

Hey friends! As many of you know, every year we share a fun Day-in-the-Life post over at Simple Homeschool. This one had lots of opportunities for grace, forgiveness, and teachable moments. Head on over to Simple Homeschool to read the details. And don’t worry, I don’t usually serve food that’s been on the floor! 😉 LINK: https://simplehomeschool.net/kari2022/

I wanted another happy day. After such a hard month, we’d finally had such a sweet day out in the sunshine, getting dirty gathering debris, Dad and me and kids and neighbors all together. No one had to say anything about the sadness. We knew it was there, and we also knew that it was good to be in the sunshine and it was good to run a chainsaw and it was good to set things on fire and then sit in Adirondack chairs and rest our tired muscles in the warmth. Our conversation ran from heaven and hospice to Dodger baseball and diesel.

The sun shone directly on our faces.

No one was out looking for joy or satisfaction, necessarily. Stuff needed to be burned. It was Saturday and sunny and that’s what you do out here. I toted Ben on my hip and made lunch and stood there breathing the cold, clean winter air, thinking how odd it is to feel so much grief and so much joy all at once.

I think about my mom all the time. I miss her every day. Logically, this perplexes me. She declined for so long, I thought I’d be emotionally prepared to have her gone. It’d been years since she was able to call me on the phone. It’s probably been a decade since she was able to email me. So I don’t understand how the missing can be so overwhelming. I love receiving messages from people who have specific memories of her. I love reading the books that she dog-eared and underlined. I love her hand-writing. I miss her smell.

I guess that’s what it is. I know all the stuff about heaven. I’m grateful for all the reminders about where she is and the hope that we have. I believe it all, I do! I just miss her.

I’m guessing many of you understand this. The constant ache of missing.

And today God reminded me that the relief, the joy, the satisfaction doesn’t come by chasing after it. After that good and happy day I just wanted another good and happy day. And today as we started out working together, splitting wood, the circumstances weren’t the same and I could feel that disappointment well up just a bit in my soul.

How easily I can become embittered!

The clouds were stubborn and the littles were cold so I took them into the house, and began prepping dinner while occupying them. NOT what I wanted to be doing. I wanted sunshine, I wanted to be working in the fresh air. And then I remembered what God had said in Hawaii:

If you look for relief, you won’t find it. If you look for gratitude, you will.

I had been so tired then too. It had felt like an army crawl across the finish line of Easter, when we finally flew away to Maui and I’d anticipated it so much and that first day so many hard things happened I realized I could be in paradise and still be sad. And as I prayed I sensed God ask, “What are you looking for?”

I tried to answer honestly: Well, God, I’m looking for relief.

Just some relief. I’m not asking for ecstasy or luxury or anything excessive. Just relief. But immediately I knew, if I came there looking for relief for myself I wouldn’t find it. Babies still cry in Hawaii. Toddlers still throw tantrums and couples miscommunicate and the whole thing can go sideways rather quickly if I’m in it solely for my own relief.

But if I look for gratitude, I will find relief.

I did. It turned out to be a tremendous trip. Not perfect, but filled with thanks and yes … relief.

Standing there at the counter shredding chicken, I remembered. Gratitude.

And service. How many meals did my mom dish up? How many lunches did she pack? A billion. She served and served and served and served. And had the most contented, joyful spirit.

I shredded the cheese, put Ben down for a nap, read a book to Justice.

The sun started breaking, just a bit, through the clouds.

By mid-afternoon it was full-sun, take-off-your-coat, push-up-your-sleeves weather and Ben woke up happy and as I smelled his sweet baby breath and sat with Justice in the sun I thought, There it is. That joy. It did come. The by-product of thanks-giving and serving. Felt fully and simultaneously with grief.

Missing Mom and being so glad I get to raise her grandchildren and do life with Dad and be her one and only daughter, her DNA woven into every part of me.

Grateful.