, , , , , , , , , , , ,

“Honey, is this little diffuser on? It is still full after a long time?”

Honey, (my husband) replied, “Um–If you want it to run, you need to plug it in.”

Okay…it really had been plugged in the last time we checked it … hmm.

“Honey, my cell phone doesn’t seem to be charging even though I have it connected to the charger…that little battery filling symbol isn’t on.”

Husband comes in to check, “You have the charger plugged into the phone, but you might have more success if you plug the charger into the extension cord.”

Okay. It usually is plugged in. Hmm.

I am usually a plugged in sort of person, but I am married to a techie and he thinks of the simplest explanations first. Like, getting properly connected to the source of power.

So the next day, (after my no plug incidents), I was gathered up in a very busy and overbooked day, where concentration was at the utmost. Whew. So, when I had to dash out to meet the incoming school bus to help a small group of preschoolers off in the afternoon, I was glad to step outside of the building, alone, for a few moments. No chaos. Just soft 70ish breezes breathing over me. It stilled me. The newly blooming trees brushed their feathery leaves over the air. The brightness of the blue sky was softened by thin drifting clouds, and the mellow sun gave me merciful touches. I sat on a marble bench in front of the building, hardly wanting to see the bus come, because of the soothing quality of aloneness and calm.

As I sat, I did not have to analyze the change in me. I just knew I had unplugged from the source of overwhelming child stuff upstairs, and had plugged into the smile of God’s unhurried creation. Instant relaxation. And quickly I realized the value of knowing how to carry the peace I was feeling on that bench outside into the stuff inside. I could choose what to plug into. I want to remember this tomorrow.