It’s only 9 days into the new year.

The momentum of a turning calendar page rushes us into the new.

New goals, new ideas, new resolutions.  Yes, new me.

This fire set and titled “I’m-finally-gonna-get-it-right.”

Only 9 days into the new year… and the fire is doused with reality.

All the lofty goals for time management, clutter reduction, quality kid time, dedicated husband moments… all the goals set in motion on day 1… have popped and fizzled.  An ember remains.

Where did the fire go?

I was determined.

What happened?

Hanging on to the frayed ends of a the New-Year-Goal rope… it slips from the hand.  Fingers left burning with the memory of the plan.

Is that it?

The big fail?

One bad day, bad moment… and that’s it?

We were running late.  This is not necessarily unusual for mama and a sixpack.  We were running late.

Then, the sight before me zoomed perspective.

Same old banter, same old breakfast, same old hurry up… hurry up… hurry up.

The ember, this ember of goals planned and unaccomplished… the ember ~ sparked.

This is where the goal is born.  Not in dreams of perfect organization, perfect scheduling, perfect dates, perfect moments.  The goal lives right here in the mess of it all.  The goal to stop.  Breathe.  Enjoy.  Live.

I. Did. Not. Yell.  Now, I’m sure there are those who never raise a voice in the madness of a morning kitchen (or claim not to).  For many of us, the words repeated in the hustle of a household… and repeated… and repeated, these words take on a life and drain every drop of goodness.  These words take on a volume of their own, hastily followed by scowls, furrowed brows (we know these mama-lines etched between the eyes)… and finally, tears.  The yelling begets… more yelling.  Frustrating.  Pointless.  Crushing.

Today.  Today was different.  I did not yell.  I knew the softening of my demeanor would calm the masses… and make us late.

So what?

So, we would be late.

Would this matter in 10 minutes?  10 hours?  10 years?

Nope.

Would my mama fury bring peace, teach love, enable joy?

Not so much.

What if the yelling stopped?  What if the moment was just plain… lived?

We were late.  The kids laughed.  My heart rate slowed.

The joy was born.

The dear tutor looked up from the young faces peering into hers.  Her eyes smiled at mine.

Oh, we are so happy to see you all are not sick.  We’re glad you made it.

I grinned, trying to keep the disruption to a minimum.

I’m sorry we’re late.  I decided not to yell today.

Wisdom-soaked eyes glistened at me from this mama soul with children’s children.

Good choice.

There it is.

The goal.

Yes, the organization, time-management, quality-togetherness goals are good.  They are good, valid, honorable goals.  There is one that trumps any of these giant leaps.  One goal.

Soak it in.  Let it be.  Live it now.  Stop yelling (yes, I know, much self-grace required).

Stop yelling.

Let the goals begin.

 

Proverbs 14:29

A patient man has great understanding, but a quick-tempered man displays folly.