My children stack up all the pillows they can find. They pile up higher than my one and a half year old's head. I see Zoe peering over the side of her tower and I stand there, smiling, trying to understand their game. I push aside a pillow that has fallen off the top.
It's a wall, cries Zoe. Don't knock it down!
Why a wall, I ask.
We are building it, she says, in the all-knowing logic of a three year old.
But what is your game, Zo?
The game is the wall, Mommy.
My life feels unordered right now. Again I find myself in a season of transition, and while one of my choosing, I feel unsteady and unsettled. What do I do now that I'm home? Staying at home doesn't feel enough. I should be running a side business, working on my writing, teaching part-time, running an at-home daycare, going back to school, working towards something.
I've never sat still easily. What's the plan? What's next? I love to know. I want to know.
But I don't, and I can't, and in this season I will sit. I will wait. I will find the joy in the small things, in my small ones. I will watch and pray. I will learn rather than teach. I may find that the game is the wall. The building of small lives is the plan, is the work. And as long as this season lasts, I will search for grace.