Today is a cave day.

Meaning that I would like to find the nearest one, run headlong into the cool, dark, quietness and hibernate for a very long while. The demands and crushing that can come from being a mother, teacher and farmer’s wife can lead me to weariness some days. And those are the days that my introverted self longs for the cave.

But as soon as I feel that urge, that wanting for escape, it is my warning, the spotlight on my heart that beckons me to choose. Will I resort to comfort and escape, or will I yield my flesh and surrender to the ministry before me?

There is great opportunity for growth in the everyday surrender to mundane service. To embrace the love of the next diaper change, the next snack fixed, the next meal prepared.

So instead of running into the deepest darkest closet I can find today, I about faced, and did the opposite of what I felt like doing, I ran out into the light, I knew if I didn’t run the force of the cave dweller within may have held me hostage the rest of the day or even longer.  I fixed a raspberry limeade for the building crew working hard in the heat. I held the baby while she napped and I am getting ready to prepare dinner as I type. These are small victories in a very ordinary day. But to the people under my care, the ones that live under my roof, my surrender is their life filled up to the fullest. To give that extra hug because I am here, to offer the undeserved forgiveness because I can.

This is the privilege of motherhood, one that I must embrace even on the cave days.