It was 2:51am when Luke came upstairs, wide awake and ready to begin his day.
I, on the other hand, would have preferred another few hours of precious sleep. After trying to get Luke to settle and fall back asleep for the better part of the next hour, I realized my attempts were futile and that he was awake for the day.
It wasn’t even 4:00am and my body and brain were so tired.
My benevolent husband, Joel, took the next nocturnal shift while I tried to fall back asleep (which was also futile).
Noticing the sun beginning to peak over the horizon, I rolled out of bed, made a cup of coffee, and laced up my favorite pair of worn Nikes. If my body didn’t quite feel awake yet, surely a morning walk would help. I headed down the stairs to will it to be so.
Crunch, crunch, crunch…
Looking down on my kitchen floor, I saw a graveyard of broken ice cream cones beneath my feet. Luke must have found them at some point in the wee hours of the night, taken a few bites out of each cone, and discarded the rest. All things considered, these were minor nighttime causalities.
Cleaning up the mess, I picked up my cuppa coffee and headed out to chase the sunrise. Starting off toward the rose garden, I realized how often we become like these ice broken cream cones: Our lives hold the promise of something sweet and joyful until we get so busy, overwhelmed, and tired, that we forget to fill our cone.
Instead of waiting for the sweet treat on top, our impatience wins out and we take one bite of the cone, discarding the rest.
And if we’re not careful in how we prioritize rest and set boundaries, the remnants of our cone might even get stepped on.
Crunch, crunch, crunch…
The gravel on the park path under my feet mimics the memory of the crushed cones. I considered these morning musings as I enjoy my coffee and round the corner toward the library that borders our neighborhood park. My body and mind are finally beginning to wake up with each sip of beloved coffee paired with purposeful movement.
Around this time yesterday, I discovered multiple horizontal crayon marks on my wardrobe drawer. Luke has been working on coloring at school and in his daily ABA therapy, typically drawing straight lines of various colors. While noticing crayon on anything but paper would typically warrant correction, these marks were a beacon of progress and process. A colorful testament that Luke was still learning.
Grabbing my magic eraser, the crayon lines quickly transformed to nearly invisible shadows on the drawer. Another day I would teach Luke where to draw. Today, I was simply thankful that he could draw and was trying. Even if it was on a drawer that I could easily clean.
The sweet morning birdsong brought me back to the present moment, glancing down at my now empty coffee cup.
Our lives also can feel this way at times: So full of something that seems to keep us going…until it’s gone.
Do you go for a refill? Or do you clean out your cup?
Maybe you don’t feel like the broken ice cream cone, crayon scribbles, or the empty coffee cup now. Your life may be so sweet in this season, full of promise and possibility.
But if it’s not (yet) and you’re still working things out, I’ll leave this for you to consider:
When you bite into your ice cream cone (empty or full of your favorite scoop), savor what you have now
When you notice the scribbles in places they’re not supposed to be, also choose to see the art that is emerging.
When your cup is drained, remember that it was once full and can be filled again, and again, and again.
Stay present. Stay curious.
And live in the messy, crunchy, crazy bits of life as much as the moments that makes sense.
Be there for all of it.
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