May As Well Enjoy

There is a tendency, for many of us, to go into survival mode when things get rough. We concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other and find ourselves with hardly any energy left for anything else. Survival begins to feel like all we are capable of. If you are there: this is not me judging. 90% of the time, I am there too.

But the last couple of weeks, there has been a little voice in my head saying, "You live here. You may as well enjoy it." So we've started occasionally walking the dog on the beach near where the RV is parked. We have to drive, but it's still a beach. There's a lot of debris around, but the water is beautiful. And we took a picnic down there last week and played on a playground that is miraculously still standing.

Today, I drove the kids back into base housing. They aren't mowing any more, of course, and so the fields between houses have been taken over by wildflowers. We picked a vaseful and found another playground that was (miraculously!) also stable. And this afternoon, I broke my own rule about not going to the beach unless it's at least 75 degrees, and we drove back to the old neighborhood and snuck down to our old beach. I say snuck, but there's no one there to notice.

It was fascinating walking on the sand and seeing the tracks of bear, raccoon, heron, and deer, but not a single footprint other than the ones we were leaving behind. Someone had abandoned a couple older kayaks, and the kids had a great time paddling them around in the shallow water, using their hands for oars. They're hoping the Man will buy them a real paddle next time. Or two.

But today, as I've been thinking about enjoying where I live (to the best of my ability--broken windows and half torn off roofs aren't terribly picturesque), I realized that this applies to so much more than just setting. It's looking at my kids and asking myself: do I enjoy them or am I just enduring until they move out of the house at 18? It's looking at my husband and asking myself: have I forgotten how much fun he is? When was the last time we went on a date together? Are we just co-parents and roommates or am I remembering he was my best friend first? It's even asking about my relationship with Christ: was my quiet time just a check mark for the day? Am I fully reveling in his joy? Do I truly treasure him?

And sometimes, it's in small ways. I poured that cup of coffee. Let me sit down and enjoy it, instead of racing around washing dishes and starting the laundry and sweeping the floor while it gets cold. I picked up that book from the library. Let me really savor it, instead of forgetting that it's there while instead mindlessly surfing the internet. I washed those sheets. Let me take a quick shower and put on clean pajamas so I can really enjoy the one night this week when I will be sleeping without an extra blanket of pet fur.

Enjoyment doesn't take very long. And it takes hardly any energy at all. But it is sometimes so easy to miss out on when we've been in survival mode for too long.

I guess this is just a little reminder to myself for later down the road (and possibly for you too, if you need it), you live here: you may as well enjoy it. You have those kids: you may as well enjoy them. You married that man: you may as well enjoy him. Slow down (even if not for very long). Really look around you. Savor. Enjoy. Don't miss the good gifts God is giving even in the midst of the struggle.

But maybe don't enjoy it quite this much.