Stop Waiting for the Perfect Moment

I came home on Mother’s Day

after serving at our church gathering that Sunday. After lunch, I was presented with various handmade cards and gifts, and a rather impressive bouquet of flowers from the grocery store (impressive due to its longevity — a medium sized sub-bouquet STILL sits cheerfully on my dining room table in front of me as I author this post 16 days later). I also got a new kitchen scale from my firstborn, a full refrigerator that I didn’t fill myself, and a box of chocolates from The Engineer. It was all a wonderful blessing!

After oohing and ahhhing over the hand drawn cards, testing the scale, and enjoying a restful afternoon of napping and painting, I put the cards in the card display area, trimmed the bouquet to fit our only large vase, and put the chocolates on my desk in our bedroom.

Several days passed.

The Engineer asked, “have you tried those chocolates yet?” I said, “no, I’m waiting to savor them individually.” It was true. I didn’t want to hurry through the box or just eat them because, I wanted to enjoy the thought of my family loving me as I perused the chocolate guide insert. I also like to play this little game of eating the one I’m in the mood for, but without leaving the ones I don’t like as much. Then there’s the decision about leaving the wrappers in the box to remind me of the eaten bits, or take them out so the remaining chocolates shift around in the box like sugary vagrants.

A few days later, he said, “Well?” At that point, I was fighting some kind of ailment and didn’t want to load my body with sugar, so again, I replied, “Nope, not yet.”

Why? What was I waiting for?

I wasn’t absolutely sure. Maybe I was waiting to slow down long enough to savor a moment in time. It all happens so. Fast. Life feels like such a swirl of activity at times, and I do just love a slow moment. A leisurely walk after dinner. Knitting in front of the fire. No agenda.

Maybe I was waiting for my next chocolate craving, so I could really and truly satisfy what my stomach was asking for.

Maybe I was waiting for my list to be done, so I didn’t feel the need to multitask . . . ahhhh . . . the thought of monotasking with just me and my chocolates . . .

Maybe I was waiting for the stars to align, for no bottoms to wipe, for no one shouting “mommy!” For no . . . neediness.

And then in dawned on me. These were my Mother’s Day chocolates. They were meant to celebrate me being who I am, their mom. It wasn’t a day about me or my hopes or ideals, it was about real life moment to moment.

There was no reason to wait any longer.

I tore right into the plastic overwrap, looked at the chocolatey menu, and picked the dark chocolate raspberry fan shaped one. It was decent. A solid piece of chocolate. The one you see half eaten in this photo I took, mid-chocolate. And I didn’t squirrel away in my quiet room. I stood amidst the stinky shoe zone of action, where fire wood, socks, books, rain jackets, work boots intersect, the place we like to call “the friends and family entrance,” the selling point of our home: the mudroom.

So instead of waiting for whatever, I’m going to just eat a piece of chocolate from the box at a random time and celebrate life as it actually is.