Hills and Valleys

Our family of six just returned from a once-in-a-lifetime trip to Hawaii. Eight days with no responsibilities, no projects, no deadlines or work. Hour upon hour of leisure time. Our only appointment was the nightly sunset, which we never missed. Our hardest decision: Should we spend the day snorkeling with exotic fish, swimming with giant sea turtles, or taking a nap? And the best part for a mother who's about to send her firstborn child across the country was that all six of us were together, soaking up every minute of familiness. Ah, the good life.

Then we came home. After making that brutal all-night flight where you're up for 26 straight hours, we arrived home to a plumbing crisis. The kids called the thing that happened in our basement a poo geyser. In order to maintain the dignity of this blog, I will refer to it as an eruption of raw sewage. (Really, though, their term is much more descriptive). Whatever you call it, it was nasty. And did I mention we'd been up for 26 hours and traveling for 12? The sewage was flowing; the clear thinking and effective communication were not.

Some days you get to swim with sea turtles. Some days you get to wade through raw sewage in your basement.* What a metaphor for life. 

One day you're giving your kids a rich cultural experience and shaved ice, and the next your 11-year-old is going to the bathroom at 4:30 in the morning in the dog run because she's afraid to flush.

This week, I have a clear demonstration of the hills and valleys of life. Both are doing their good work in me. Trying to be thankful for both. Without the valleys, I'm not sure the hills would be so sweet.

*I personally did not have to wade through any sewage. The men in our family soldiered through it nobly, and with only minor gagging.