“Better what the eye sees than the roving of the appetite. This too is meaningless, a chasing after the wind,” (Ecclesiastes 6:9).
When my kids spend twelve consecutive hours bickering over toys and begging for cookies—I could use a day alone at the lake.
When I’ve played six games of UNO Moo, styled an American Girl doll’s hair eight different ways, and assembled 324 puzzle pieces before lunch—I get restless for a weekend with the girls. Grown-up girls, I mean.
And when my husband and I can’t finish a meal, or a sentence, or a singular thought without someone interjecting to ask for milk or help or every ounce of our attention—I dream of a week in Maui sipping tall beverages spiked with pineapple juice. And cherries, too. Let’s go crazy.
So what do I do when I want to get away, but can’t?
I count my blessings.
- The freckles on my daughter’s nose and the lilt in her laugh.
- Crayons on the carpet and healthy kids who scatter them there.
- A good job that keeps my husband at the office past dinner time.
- Four walls to protect us, even as I scratch and climb them.
I can’t change my circumstances. But I can change the way I look at them. Can you?
So that plane to Maui, it has to fly without me. But tonight I just might pour myself a tall glass of something fruity anyhow. Want to come over? You bring the paper umbrellas; I’ll spring for the cherries.
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