A Pioneer Perspective

A two years ago, I was preparing to go on a trek through the desert for an unknown number of miles while pretending to be a pioneer. After trek, I gained a new perspective about many things.
Shade and water are amazing.
Ice - a gift from God. Seriously.
Flip flops are the best thing for blistered toes.
Some boys and girls these days are real wimps.
Some boys and girls these days are incredibly tough.
Some boys and girls are stronger than they think.
My husband is a pioneer stud. I am pretty sure that we would have been among the living at the end of the 1,300 mile journey. Assuming that I hadn't killed the inept leader and been excommunicated for the sin of it. (Because after three days with fairly decent but not always communicative leadership, I was about ready to start a mutany over hiking two miles out of our way for a rescue breakfast. And besides don't rescuers generally come to you??? Hold that thought I'm going to check.) (Yep rescuers come to you with supplies. There is a reason why I never got into reinacting like my sister and high school friend. Although the wedding at the Civil War Battle was pretty cool.)
I digress. Perspective. It changes.
A few years ago I had a lot of little kids. I got to the point that I just didn't go anywhere because it was too hard and scary. My husband went shopping at midnight or we suffered and went without things. I was pretty sure my life was exhausting and difficult. And it was. Little kids require a lot of physical help and mental attention.
The musical South Pacific has a song saying, "They've got to be taught. Carefully taught." The song is referring to teaching prejudice, but teaching children positive traits also requires careful, planned teaching. I was doing that, and the effort was using me up and wearing me out.
There were many rewards: hugs, smiles, funny comments, and endearing moments. But it was still tough and I felt at the end of my resources.
Part of that was due to feeling responsible for everyone in my house and their actions. Was it was because I didn't want anyone to get hurt and feel consequences, or because I was afraid to appear inept and allow others to see that my life,  my children, my marriage wasn't all shiny pretty? I don't know. Probably some of both. Either way it was exhausting to carry the load of responsibility I thought I was carrying.
At the end of the trek we staggered (okay it was a rapid walk, but stagged sounds so much better.) We went from dry and dusty 100+ temperatures to shade and green almost instantaneously. And my perspective and understanding about that experience shifted almost that quickly.
Sitting on that weedy grass gave me a new appreciation for  many things not the least among the being weeds pretending to be grass which gave me a cool and relatively clean place to sit and reflect.
As I sat there that afternoon and evening, I saw people who had not be through the experience of the trek. Some were rushing around partly to help us, but partly because they thought that rushing around made events good and made them look good. Some were jockeying to get the nearest spot to the grass, not apparently noticing (or maybe caring that they were forcing others, many who had just spent three days in the desert broiling, to park out away from the grass and hike in to reach the coolness.
I understood it all. I have pushed my way into a spot that I felt was best for my little family and guarded it with vigilance because I was sure if I didn't someone would get hurt. At the time I said to myself it was necessary to the wellbeing of my children, now I think it had more to do with my sanity, lack of faith and need for control.
I have also rushed around, pretending that my business was necessary for the success of the event called life. Being Martha, sure that without me everything would fail. Martha did need to get dinner on. Somebody had to, but maybe she should have rushed and ordered less, and instead let things come together more calmly and naturally. Probably the linens wouldn't have matched. Probably half the people wouldn't even have had a full tables etting, but everyone would have been more peaceful and able to learn from the Savior while he served them chickpeas or dried as they cleaned up together.
And that thought brings me to the biggest shift I have had in perspective in the last few years. It didn't come quickly like change that occurred as I nestled my toes into grassy coolness last June. This change of paradim has taken years and it still is sometimes lost in the panic of making things turn out, but it is lost less and less.
That change is the knowledge that I have control over almost nothing besides my will and therefore I am not able to be the savior for anyone. Not my children, not someone else's children, not my husband, not even really myself. Some one else, named Christ, is the Savior, and my contribution needs to be to trust in Him completely.
That doesn't mean that I stop doing all that I can to help, but maybe I need to ask what All I Can actually is a then with a calmness and knowledge in my heart move forward knowing that because I am in a place of stillness and peace that I will actually see the things I should do and the times to stop and be present for myself and others because I am operating from a place where inspiration can actually get through to influence me.
It is just a thought, but it seems to be a true thought, so I am going with it. Spending less and less time in Frantic Ville in my head and more and more appreciating the spiritual moments of the weedy grass called Life on Earth.