I'm not [at all] a super-techy person. I have, consistently, drug my feet to join facebook, text, pin on pinterest, read books on a kindle, and now, finally, step into the terribly intimidating world of apps. But, I will admit, it sure is fun. I quickly discovered the game, Where's My Water, and was instantly hooked. (As in, due to my 3-year-old's learned fascination with the game, Swampy now lives at the end of every plumbing fixture in our house.) This is a game where you direct water through a game of obstacles in order to fill up a bathtub of water for Swampy-the-very-cute-alligator. It was both fun and, at times, challenging, and wonderfully refreshing compared to the world of dirty diapers and hungry tummies that I live in. I was hooked.
Then, one day, as I looked up from completing a level, it hit me. My husband and kids were all outside. Playing. Laughing. Doing life together. And here I was, sitting on the couch, alone, filling bathtubs for alligators. While I completely, 100% believe that mommies need alone time REGULARLY, this was not it. Instead, I had simply chosen not to participate in this God-given moment to live life to the full. I had chosen not to receive one of those precious few gift-moments that would later be a treasured and longed-for-again memory.
And not only that, but God has given me a mission. Right now, it's mostly to my family, and right now, it mostly looks like cleaning diapers and pureeing baby food and washing little shirts and pants. But it is sacred. And I am the one He chose for it. I am the mommy He chose for these two beautiful and precious children. I am the woman He chose for this man. And one day God will ask me what I did with the gift of the time that He gave me. I really hope I have more to say than: Well, I filled a few bathtubs for alligators.
