After living in the White Mountains of New Hampshire for most of my early life, the mountains in Maine seemed more like, well, hills. For the first few years I carried around a kind of dissatisfaction; a sentiment that, try as Maine might, it will never be New Hampshire. This kind of attitude kept me from enjoying the beauty that surrounded me. Now that I have lived in Maine all of my adult life, I love it. But it was a long road to get there.
I have recently discovered that my home state isn’t the only thing I have underestimated. As is turns out, we are so busy trying to accomplish whatever is on our list, that the very tasks God has ordained for us have become a burden. Supper has to be on the table, the house has to be clean, school has to be completed, and on and on. Our very purposes have become a means to an end. We convince ourselves that once the kids are fed, and in bed, or school is done and the chores are taken care of “we can relax”. But these are the very mountains we are supposed to be enjoying. This is our view when we get up in the morning.
The narcissist that is being cultivated in us by our society has inched his way into our homes, and we are now convinced we can have righteous “self-care”. And he becomes our god, and all of the annoying little hurdles we have to jump, such as school, or dishes, or work, are simply the potholes on the road to retirement.
Teresa of Avila said “even when you are in the kitchen, our Lord moves among the pots and pans”. The work we set our hands to do has within it beauty and purpose. Let’s not close our eyes wishing for grander mountains.