We don't have T.V. channels at our house, but I have had the opportunity, on more than one occasion, to watch portions of a T.V. show in which a man tries to make his way in the wild. This man fascinates me - and I feel compelled to watch him despite the increasingly disgusting ways he tries to survive certain predicaments. In the only 1 or 2 episodes I've seen, I've been able to observe him do a range of things from sleeping inside the carcass of a dead camel for shelter to eating goat testicles. Now, this man is, by conservative estimation, a little "off". I always picture his camera crew sitting back eating finger sandwiches and drinking Dasani as they watch him drink his own urine to survive a few days in the Kalahari. I still get the feeling that those goatherds were lying about whether or not eating the testicles actually meant he was "one of them". I couldn't help feeling a little sorry for him as he exclaimed (shortly before vomiting the testicles back up behind a tree) how excited he was that he was actually being accepted into such an exclusive tribe. Whether or not he has a camera crew, he has obviously seen that his antics in the wilds are not a necessary part of daily life in this modern world. So why choose such an "interesting" lifestyle?
Last weekend, and very close to my birthday, my husband purchased a used 4-wheeler for us to drive around our area. (This, after I was hoping for a new computer.) After he explained to me how much fun it would be for me to drive this beast around to get away from the house for a few moments here and there and collect my sanity, if need be, it sounded like a better and better idea. Fast forward to Sunday afternoon. We live near a small creek called Pine Creek. I decided I would drive my older two daughters down to the creek in order to explore it together. I dropped the girls off near the bridge, and turned the vehicle around to park it. As I got off and came toward the girls, I noticed that, like most children would, they were throwing rocks off the bridge and into the creek. As Claire threw a large handful of limestone gravel/dust into the air, the rather brisk wind of that day picked it up and propelled it into my eyeballs. It would seem that when gravel dust and eyeball moisture combine they create a sort of impenetrable paste that defies further description. BLINDNESS. I couldn't see a thing. Had I been close to the house, I would have had one of the girls lead me to a clean water source to try to irrigate my eye. Had I been "survivormom", I would have taken off my shoe and urinated into it in order to make some sort of homemade irrigation device to flush the gravel from my eyes. As it was, I just tried to manage blindness, over a mile from home, on top of a bridge.
So it turns out that, since I'm "fearfully and wonderfully made", my eyes knew what to do to get rid of most of the gravel/dust. People often ask me how I keep a positive attitude throughout the days of motherhood that are often filled with trials, embarrassments, and annoyances. I can't help thinking back to that man in the wild. I think it helps to be a little bit "off" when facing circumstances that are beyond my control. When it comes to parenting and losing some of my sanity, I'm not sure which came first - kind of a "chicken and the egg" question I sometimes ask myself. But I imagine that they may have continued perpetuating one another in much the same manner. Survivormom just ends up evolving somehow out of that woman who used to wear a pantsuit to work and have every hair in just the right place. In Matthew 16:25, Jesus said, "For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it." I think this principle has applied to my illusion of control over my own circumstances in a way... if I tried to hold onto control too tightly, I would likely lose it, but as I relax and let God direct my days, I find peace through acceptance of my own loss of "control". When properly applied, this helps relieve everyone in our house from having to measure up to my standard of how they should be acting. Sometimes chaos ensues, but I have "more grace" to handle it.
I once read a phrase that was applied to being married to a certain type of man, but I think that it applies maybe more aptly to parenting. To be a mom, one must be "just a little bit reckless and blind in one eye if she is going to enjoy the ride". Well, I guess I can just thank my kids for the "blind in one eye" portion. Although, blind in both eyes can make it difficult to drive everyone back home safely. Mom Vs. Wild, Man Vs. Wild... we both are happier being "just a little bit reckless and blind in one eye". Mom - what an interesting lifestyle!
