Running Away To Home

I ran away from home this weekend.  I ran far, far away.  As in like 2,200 miles.  Good grief.

I needed to run away for a few days, as much as I loathe confessing that.  But the days of diapers, bickering children, meal planning, schooling, cleaning... thinking and breathing, were just getting to be overwhelming.

So I ran.  My heart sore, tears streaming down my face, I left home and went off on my God-appointed adventure, trusting Him to take care of me and trusting Hubby to have all five kids still alive when I got back.  {Guess what?  Hubby totally did.  He's so great.}

And as I breathed and thought and chatted and squealed and laughed loudly and prayed and praised and rested, God proved Himself faithful time and time again.

Then it was time to come home.  As much I hated to say good-bye to my newly heart-and-soul-connected sisters in Christ, my adventure of running away from home wasn't forever and it was time to go.

I was happy.

The view from my small plane window revealed mountains folding upon each other and nothing lying sleepily  in the valleys between them.  The moon was rising and it brought to mind that line from the children's book, "I can see the moon.  Can the moon see me?"  I think it could.  And suddenly, suddenly, beyond the folding mountains and the valleys of sleeping nothingness, there was something.  Flat land revealing houses upon houses, freeways, precious few trees dotting the landscape and cars trying to beat the others home.  There was something.  And in that huge, vast something was my everything.  My everything.

Children who paint their hair with banana and yogurt (okay, only one does that), children who dirty up their clothes, hubby who works unceasingly to love his wife and children well, a home that always cluttered and about to explode with the life debris of seven people, ten little arms to be thrown around my neck, my bed to nestle me down with a sigh and a smile of contentment.

My everything.

The plane's wheels touched down and there was a screeching of brakes and the sharp pull of gravity once again taking over and it was the loveliest feeling.

I smiled, touched the window and whispered "home".

And then I ran.  I ran towards those little arms to be thrown around my neck, wonderful little squirmy bodies that paint their hair in yogurt and get their clothes dirty and demand to be fed all the time. A chorus of "Mama, Mama!" And I cried.

I ran away to home.

*I can't wait to share my Allume story with you soon, but for now, I'm off to take care of those little monkeys.  Because, you see, they need me. As much as I need them...*