A LEGO in My Pocket
A LEGO in My Pocket
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
I recently went on a brief “retreat” as a mom to Honolulu by myself for three days....something that sounds so exotic when you live somewhere cold, but something which really is just island hopping for us. However, from here, that means re-entering the United States and being 5 1/2 flight hours, an ocean, and a country away from my family. Not my typical retreat, of sorts, when a getaway weekend with a girlfriend used to be an overnight to a Bed and Breakfast in Rockport, MA, just over an hour from where I lived at the time. Certainly it wasn’t anything I ever pictured myself doing when I had needy babies in the house. Anyway, it was a Mother’s Day present of sorts from Mark, and we had travel miles to burn. It was a great way to refresh myself before the next wave of major life transition hits. In many ways, it already has.
As I got off of the plane at 3:30 AM local time and rushed through customs to get to baggage claim, I realized I had a LEGO in my pocket. It was a stunning reminder that no matter where you are and what you are doing, once you put kids on this planet, being a mom defines you...at least a significant chunk of you. I went on this little trip to find the rest of me again, but I was reduced to smiley tears when I saw this little red LEGO roof piece tucked in the fabric of my jean shorts. I had helped my third grade son retrace his steps earlier that afternoon (right before my flight) to find the pieces of the diorama he did for a book report; as he “scooted” home with the box in hand, several LEGO pieces apparently had gone AWOL between here and the school. I must have absentmindedly shoved that one into my pocket, only to find it almost 10 hours and one large ocean later. It struck me as so poignant: It’s part of my job to help the kids “build” their character, strength, wherewithal, etc., to face another move, adjust to a new neighborhood and new school, and do the whole fast-paced Boston life all over again. How painful (and yet how rewarding!) the transition to Kwaj was. There were tears of not meeting friends instantly, and there was the feeling that everybody knew what they were doing but us. Boston will be a return to the familiar, to some extent, but we have become islanders in many ways, and readjusting our gauges for metropolitan life looks a little overwhelming from this end of the pond.
After a day or two of restaurants (and not cutting anyone’s food but my own or escorting anyone to the restroom!) and shopping for teacher end-of-school-year gifts, I settled down and sat by the pool on a chaise lounge and even sometimes, when feeling like getting away from people, on my balcony. I prayed for a sense of calm. I sat one day by the ocean at dusk and asked God to clear out all thoughts in my head that were anxious and untrue and replace them with a flood of His truth. Have all of my anxieties vanished? No, but I did hear loud and clear that I do not have to do this alone. He holds the other LEGOs ready to attach to the ones I am trying to build. He has answers I don’t have yet. He knows the old friends with whom we will pick up where we left off, and He knows which new teachers await my kids, which new colleagues await my husband, and which new friendships await us all. He knows how I will move into my first house, jetlagged from 17 hours of travel, and still get kids registered in their schools on time, and buy two cars before our five-day company allowance of rental car runs out. He knows the challenges we will face, and He knows the answers to problems I haven’t even posed yet. I am already worried about the red roof pieces and where they will go, but He wants me to trust Him to build from the bottom up.
Honolulu initially was a very crowded, claustrophobic place for me. When we first arrived in August 2007, and even since then, it felt just like another crowded city, with too many tourists, but a beautiful venue. Even subsequent trips through it have been spent rushing around to Walmart to get school supplies or seeing doctors. It is not a place that usually connotes “relaxing” to me, since for us, it has always been a mad scramble to suck in as much civilization as possible before going back to the isolation of our tiny island world. However, knowing that it was my second-to-last time before leaving this part of the world, I soaked in the palm trees, the aqua blue of the very calm ocean, the smell of plumeria and pineapple or coconut, either from the lotion on other people’s skin or in the tropical drink the waiter just made one table over. It was a peaceful place for me this time because I stopped and just appreciated it. My agenda was to relax and be alone. To cry, to laugh, and to speak to the Father as the pink-orange sun set in the sky. When I looked around and saw kids frolicking on the beach and at the pools, my heart ached for my own children, and I could picture the last visit here on our move back onto the mainland this July. I determined we were going to get our swimsuits on early in the AM and just swim and play when we all come together. But more than anything, I was reminded this trip that I can’t and should not attempt to do anything without the Builder and the LEGOs He gives me. I may think certain pieces are important, but in the end, His promise is to build us. It’s not up to me which pieces and in what order. So, once again, I try to discipline myself to hand the soon-to-be chaos of my life over and let Him order our world. Wish me luck!
Matthew 6:25-27, 34
“For this reason, I say to you, do not be anxious for your life, as to what you shall eat, or what you shall drink; nor for your body, as to what you shall put on. Is life not more than food, and the body than clothing? Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single cubit to his life’s span?....Therefore do not be anxious for tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”