Together.

(Image Credit:  stock.xchng user edman_pl)

Like most of the Southeastern US, our town got blasted by snow last week. We got over 6" of snow, which for us is an epic amount. Our 8-year-old was off from school three days last week, which was especially, um, interesting given the fact that she had also had three snow days the week before. So, with MLK Jr. Day thrown in, that meant two weeks of school, three days of attendance.

My husband and I have been talking about how hard this must have been on other families... especially those who work in an office, or work an hourly retail job, and were expected to be at work. I know from being a single mom back in the day that emergency child care is simply not easy to find, unless you are really lucky (or smarter than me) and have an elaborate system of child care back-up plans.

Our family is incredibly blessed in that my husband and I both work from home, so we didn't technically have to "miss work" in order to accommodate El's unexpected days off.  Except... we work from home. For demanding clients. Who live in northern climes where snow days are not the norm. So, what is always a bit of a juggle - working from home with a toddler - became an arm-flapping panic attack. At least for me.

It's one thing to slack off a bit one day because your kid has a snow day, and you know can catch up on work that night or the next day. When that's the case, you say, "Carpe diem," cancel meetings, throw on gloves, and run outside and build snowmen. It's another thing altogether to know your kid is going to be there for THREE STRAIGHT DAYS and that all of your routines and ways of coping with your wacky work situation are going to be thrown right out the window. On Wednesday, when I realized we had a few days of this ahead of us, I started to sweat. I adore my daughters, I cherish their presence, but I was stressed about how we were going to make this work. My sensitive older daughter could sense that stress, and she felt like it was her "fault," and all of my attempts to persuade her otherwise fell flat. I was radiating tension, and my whole family was suffering for it.

When I'm stressed, and I realize that I am the emotional fulcrum of the family, I tend to get even more stressed. Right when I should calm down and model gentleness and self-control, I find that my hamster-wheel of a heart is turning even more rapidly, squeaking furiously for all to hear. I grin a really fake and somewhat-scary-looking grin. I use what El calls my "Nice-Mean" voice. Sometimes, I do even worse - I snap and snarl.

Toward the end of a long day of phone calls and client emails and serving lunch and snacks (oh the infinite snacks!), I felt like I could finally breathe a little, maybe. The sun was going down, and the sky was blazing red. We have had really incredible sunsets lately, and the kitchen window of our new house faces west, so I get to enjoy them as I start dinner every night.  Little Ev was playing on the floor in the kitchen as I started dinner, and El came down from upstairs to see what was up, and she sat on the floor with her sister and they began playing together. I sat down with them, and suddenly I was overwhelmed by the simplest, loveliest thought.

We are together.

The three of us are here, in this moment, and we are together.

Like three-part harmony, I could feel how our souls brushed against each other, making a beautiful, resonating sound, ringing out like a bell.

I thought about how rare it was, in all the vast universe, that we could have ended up on this same small spot in space and time, three people who loved each other this much.

How incredible! What kismet!

I thought about people I have lost, who I can no longer see and touch, and how remarkably brief my time with them now felt.

I hugged and kissed my children clumsily, the only thing our earthen bodies know how to do when we are overwhelmed by the knowledge that our soul has found its place alongside someone else's, and we get to have them for our own, at least for a little while.

All at once, what had been a time of stress had suddenly shifted into a moment of joy. I knew I could face the next two days at home with my crazy pets and kids and clients and husband all competing for my time, because in the grand scheme of things, who cared how it would all shake out? What really mattered was the privilege, the gift, of being here at all, together.

I wish I could put that moment in my pocket and bring it out the next time I'm stressed and overwhelmed, but being human, I know that I'll forget again, and need to be reminded yet again. Perhaps the best I can do is be thankful.