Sunday, October 12, 2014

Get Past the Tumbleweeds

(Originally posted 3/18/2013)
The other day we had an event to go to that ended up being a drive we will never forget.   If anyone knows the Antelope Valley you know it gets quite windy here, especially on the far west side where there is a lot of farm land.  We had to drive through that part of the valley to get to where we were going and this is what our drive looked like.
We couldn’t see the cars in front of us.  We almost turned around a few times, but we had a few clear spots that kept us going.  Even when we got to this obstacle, we kept moving on.
I have NEVER seen so many tumbleweeds!  I know most people think of these as random plants blowing around in a western movie.  Nope.  They are real.  We see these all over in our neighborhood.  But there was a barricade of them when we were driving in the storm this day.
Luckily we could just drive right over them and keep going.  Tumbleweeds are nasty plants.  They are bigger than me sometimes, seriously, not exaggerating, and really brittle and thorny.  They also have a tendency to just tumble along the side of the road and then once your car gets near, they dart out in front of you.  Crazy things, those tumbleweeds.
I couldn’t help but think of life and motherhood as we were dodging tumbleweeds and cruising through the dust that day.
Man, motherhood is full of a lot of tumbleweeds.  And they are always popping out on a good day and trying to block your way.  I’m talking about all the thorns that are so easy to talk about.  I do it ALL THE TIME.
“My kids will not stop waking up in the night!”
“My kids are always throwing tantrums!”
“Why do I have to repeat myself 10 times!”
You know the drill.  Tumbleweeds.  They are huge, and pokey, and bristle up your whole day.
If you let them….
That day on the drive we drove over hundreds of tumbleweeds and made it to the kids favorite part of the drive.  The windmills.
IMG_3010  There are hundreds of them.  Scattered all over the mountains, standing tall, fascinating my little ones.  And the tumbleweeds?  Besides a funny anecdote, mostly forgotten.
That’s what I need to do more as a mother.  I need to stomp on those tumbleweeds, try to find a funny story, and move on.  I need to focus on the clear skies and the “I love you’s”.  Then motherhood won’t be such a terrible storm that I’m tired of getting through, but a beacon standing above all else that reminds me where my true happiness lies.