I used to have a fairly significant addiction to the show, Seventh Heaven. In the days before binge watching was en vogue, I would TIVO hours of it each day and watch them in marathons while TJ worked evenings as a nurse. I found the show intoxicating.
At the time, my life was a lot different than it is now. We desperately wanted children but couldn’t have them. TJ worked almost every night as a floor nurse, and I was working up to 80 hours a week as a “Road Scholar” teaching way too many freshman composition courses at way too many colleges.
Despite our troubles with infertility, I really enjoyed my life. I liked that our schedules allowed us late nights and late wake ups. I loved the variety teaching at multiple different colleges. I loved living in my mind — reading and writing and helping students become more proficient at reading and writing. I contemplate other career paths for once my kids are all grown and in school full time, but deep inside I know that I will go back to teaching college English because nothing else makes me feel so alive.
But while I was enjoying teaching and debating with students and I adored my commutes, listening to NPR for hours at a time and debating internally with myself the topic of the moment, I felt a bit lost in a world that was too big for me. My ideas were big; my passions were big; my net was wide. And honestly, I felt a bit like I was drowning.
This was a bit confusing to me at the time. I was never one content to stay in one place. I liked being free and untethered. But the more free and untethered I became, the more I felt like I was losing my footing inside. I felt like I was losing me.
And I think that’s why I loved Seventh Heaven. Everything seemed so simple. A simple family. A simple town. A simple parish. Sure, some of the problems weren’t quite so simple, but in traditional television fashion, they were all wrapped up nice and neatly at the end of an episode or two. It wasn’t reality, but it was so very far from the reality of my life that I couldn’t help but crave some of it.
And then I was laying in bed last night. My two big girls were just a few feet from the door to my room, and Mae’s room is actually attached to ours, so she was even closer. I looked at the cross that hung over the bed, and I looked at the Aran knit square I had framed between our two windows. I looked around our room. The rooms in this house are much smaller than in our old house, and I love that. I love small rooms that comfort and contain. And I love this room in particular that comforts and contains TJ and I as we finally put the work of the day to rest and allow ourselves to relax.
And all of a sudden, I felt like I fit into my world. It felt small and cozy. Yes, sometimes it feels completely stifling to have most of my life occur in the same exact place all day every day. But finally, my life wasn’t out there. It was in here. With my family. Finally, I realized that I am no longer running and searching and striving and reaching. I’m here. I’m where I want to be. The most important things to me are all right here within my reach and under my wing.
Our life isn’t simple. There are complicated questions and few simple answers. But our values are small, and our values are here. We focus on love and forgiveness. We focus on acceptance and charity and empathy and compassion. We focus on treating each other the way God wants them to be treated, and we work on treating ourselves and each other in the same way. We work on thanking God for all that we are given and on living with a spirit of gratitude rather than want. Those values don’t answer all our questions. They don’t make the complex simple, but they do give us guidelines, and they point us on our way.
On hold are the days of busy schedules and conflicting priorities and balancing responsibilities. These days are about molding characters. They are about building confidence. They are about watching little ones spread their wings and take flight. They are about creating a home that nurtures and creating lives than inspire.
One day I will go back out into that great big world. I’ll become a professional again. We’ll travel. I’ll try to impact the world in a greater way than I can right now from my computer screen.
But those days are for the future. They are for when my little birds can fly farther away.
Right now my world is small and it’s cozy. It’s slow. And I find that to be incredibly beautiful.
