Restoration...

Restoration. I've always associated this term with old houses or furniture or fine paintings. Today, this word took on a new meaning.

I like to think of myself as a calm person. In my mind's eye, I walk down the street, light on my feet, living life on an even keel, almost skipping, and ready for anything that comes to pass (I even sport a cheery yellow daisy top, lemon capris with lace edged legs, a thick white headband, and a cute pair of lemon espadrilles). Unfortunately, there's nothing like a bit of destruction at the hands of my Sohl son to challenge my finely tuned vision.

This destructive behavior generally occurs during his regularly scheduled naptime, and indefinitely delays that intended restoration period. This young Sohl takes it upon himself to undo what his dad and I have so carefully and lovingly created for him, and my patience is tested. This time period should be restorative for my little family. As of late, it is proving to increase my work- and stress-loads, and increasing my desire for a mom's-week-out.

At some point each day, after our one-boy-wrecking crew moves through, we work together to restore his room to our version of a preschooler's paradise. We discuss how to care for the things we provide for his protection and enjoyment, and talk about appropriate activities during his restoration-intended naptime.

As I was restoring myself, enjoying my bath bomb, I reflected on today's message from Pastor Bil. Bible in hand, I reviewed specific passages and points he'd made, and I saw restoration in a new light. When I'm not keeping my eyes on God, thinking of His plan for me, and above all, spending time with Him, I potentially destruct my intended restoration. Thankfully, God's even more patient than I, and, when I awake from my "path-nap," is always ready to help me put my life back where it belongs, and continue on my path towards Paradise with Him.

Now if only I could find a Bible which restored itself after a brief encounter with wet hands...