What if I had just one month to live? How would I live my last 30 days? It is a question that has been posed by many, but most recently by Genny, and it caused me to stop and think if I’m living my life each day the way I want to. If I were to die, how would I be remembered? What things would my children say about me…what would stand out in their minds? I’m a little afraid of what the answer might be, to be honest.
It has also caused me to think about the way I approach each day, and each task. Do I grumble, or do I smile as I work? Lisa at take90west posted about The Invisible Mom-Building Cathedrals, which I think sort of hit the nail on the head. It was just what I needed to knock myself off of my throne.
Because my days center around caring for my children, that is what I have chosen to focus my one month on. And what it comes down to is this: I would live my last 30 days without obligation, but with love. While the content of my days would not necessarily change drastically, my attitude toward that content would.
I would wash, dry, iron and fold their clothes because I love them. I would put them away, straightening out their drawers, and feel satisfied that my little ones will have clean, warm clothing to wear each day.
I would cook their meals not as a chore, but as something I could do to nourish the little bodies that house their hearts and minds, because I love them.
I would bake them cookies and I’d watch as the soft, shiney chocolate chips, still warm from the oven, smear on their little hands and their little faces. And then I’d hug them and kiss them, and not worry too much about the chocolate and the crumbs.
I would let them stay in the bath a little longer…and I’d even pour them some bubbles…and I wouldn’t get so upset when they splashed a little too much.
I would stay a little longer in their rooms at night…leave the pots and pans from supper to soak until they were asleep…so that they could slumber in their beds, tucked in their fluffy blankets, and warmed by the time we spend together. They would know that they are immensely more important to me than a clean kitchen.
I’d turn off this computer. And I would talk with them more. I would listen to their stories, and I would tell them some of mine.
We would take more walks.
We would pick more flowers.
We would hold hands, close our eyes and raise our faces to the sun, and take in it’s warmth.
We would jump in more leaf piles.
We would blow more bubbles.
We would roast more marshmallows.
We’d drink more hot cocoa.
We’d snuggle more.
We’d watch the sunrise together, and we’d watch it set together.
We would read more books together.
We would pray together.
We’d camp out under the stars.
Then I think they would know the most solemn truth of my life…that I love them with all my heart and soul. I hope that is what they would remember. I hope that is what they would say about their mother…
“She loved me more than anything.”