In search of transcendence

This post is a companion post to the previous. I wasn't sure why I posted about the trip to Costco. I guess I felt that reality has two sides. I mean real reality - the one that includes everything the fallen world includes, and everything God's grace restores and renews. And I am just seeing fragments of both, I am sure. In the midst of carrying my screaming, wriggling son down the aisles of Costco, and every time he melts down in public, or explodes in the middle of the night, I am usually telling myself that I just need to push through this. That's sometimes the best I can hope for. Some people complain about mundanity, and I understand that - the wanting of something fuller, less cardboard. The awful, screaming times are worse than mundane, though, because you know that every energy you have to make something beautiful out of the mundane is being drained from you, that at best you could just forestall things getting worse, and when it's over, all you can do is rest so that you don't pass out on your return trip. He slept through the night that night, and then woke up at 5am. My husband's usual routine is to leave the house shortly thereafter, so my mommy day started at 5am, with an overly tired special needs preschooler who was supposed to start his first day of preschool. He would not hold still long enough to take a first-day-of-school picture, so I figured I'd get one after the 3-hour preschool day. Drop-off was awkward. He was not happy. When I left, he was out in the hall with the special ed teacher, calming down, separated from his class. He frequently has these separation fits, so I left with my daughter. I was very much hoping that with him in school I could spend time with her, time that the locusts had eaten during these years. At the playground, a friend called happily to my little girl from the swings. She played on the equipment, had snacks, talked to friends, acted a little goofy. It was so appropriate. Just a play date. I'm not sure we've ever had one so blessedly drama-free. Then we went home. She finished breakfast, did her lesson on ABCMouse, and then wanted to paint. I turned on the instrumental hymns station on Pandora, and set her up. She painted and I got lunch ready. The melodies touched the words I knew by heart, and my heart started to sing. I must pause in posting this to provide more later, because, upstairs, my little boy is crashing around in his room, shaking the metal fixtures of the lights in the kitchen. I need to investigate and possibly get him up from the nap he is not taking and allow my daughter a chance to rest. This is frequently part of our lives.