The Sweet Spot

I stood there, hand on hip, perusing the volumes as my finger traced the title of each one. I had decided it was time, time to clear some space on the bookshelf next to my side of the bed. I already modified the numbers when we moved here five years ago, but as any collector of books knows, it doesn't stay modified for long.

It was like a trip down memory lane. I'm not a big reader of fiction, except for classic children's literature, and though I do love certain poets, my preferences have always leaned toward topics on Christian living, gardening, and decorating. Many of those comprising that last category were gathered when we lived in our former home. I absolutely loved dolling it up... and I had the books to prove it. Everything from the colorful, and kitchy of Mary Engelbreit; the wonderfully pastel and shabby of Rachel Ashwell; to the neutrals and white shiplap of Joanna Gaines made an appearance over the years. I had to smile at remembering each revision. Tom... not so much!

Ah, well... I kind of wondered why I had been holding on to these books for so long. I mean, we're in a totally different place now; literally a whole different place, but also a whole different phase of life. Our casita is by nature much smaller, and has obviously fewer rooms to leave to the frivolity of decoration alone. Purpose must prioritize everything now, though I still manage to "cute it up" a bit. What can I say? It's my nature!

That brings me to the angst at the thought of letting certain things go, even when I know beyond the shadow of a doubt I won't be making use of them any longer. I think I've figured out why I do that. Maybe I'm talking about you too. Perhaps we can figure this out together. Metaphors can often be helpful in attaching something visual to the intangible, so here goes:

Life is a river.

We are born at its headwaters. It stretches out before us, a great ribbon... a gift. Where it leads, we know not. Where it ends, we know not. What we do know is that a grand adventure awaits. There will be twists and bends. Playful rapids will appear in places. Other times massive boulders will jut out at us, demanding we yield. It is likely we may encounter a fall. People will come into and out of our lives for a time; creeks and brooks shaping and sharing our journey before heading their own way.

Every once in a while something quite incredible happens. A little dam forms. Perhaps it's comprised of a fallen trunk or larger rocks that have lodged in a hole in the riverbed. More branches and rocks begin to collect, pinned against the first, until the flow begins slowing down, and the water becomes more placid. This is a sweet spot. There is time now to really take in the breathtaking beauty of this place, to bask in the loveliness of what is. Water shimmers as light dances across it. Leaves flutter. Fish dart. The feeling of completeness and contentment is so great we would stay here forever if we could, but the truth is... we cannot.

Behind us, more water rushes, propelling us forward as pressure builds. One of the stones becomes dislodged or the trunk shifts and the water of this peaceful respite begins to flow over the edge. We can try to resist, but we are, after all, a river. Moving onward is what rivers do.

There will surely be more places like this further on, but because we don't know how, when, or where they will come, we fear losing what we have where we are.

This is why we hold on. This is why we don't want to leave the sweet spots behind.

For me personally, the days when both my parents were still living and active; when my children were young and all under one roof; when my hours were filled both with the seriousness of schooling at home and the fun of dreaming of what our little bungalow could be... that was my sweet spot. I realize now, just how much I loved it there, in that place, and just how much I resisted moving onward.

Life, like the river, has a way of moving us forward whether we want to go or not. Rivers don't flow backward. And truthfully, there are more sweet spots coming. Tom and I are in one of them right now. We have each other. We have our health. We enjoy the company of our grown children and the fun of our grandbabies. Here the water shimmers again, and the beauty is just as breathtaking... perhaps even moreso. We will bask in the loveliness of this place until the Lord moves us onward again.

The greatest lesson I've learned is that in trying desperately to hold on to the sweet spots of yesterday, we miss out on actually seeing the beauty of the one we have right before us.

May our eyes always remain open to the adventure ahead, wherever the river takes us, and may our hearts always remain grateful for the journey.