I got stuck.
I woke up tired-the kind of tired that had me planning my nap before I even rolled out of bed.
I spent the morning going through the motions.
Breakfast.
Laundry.
Changing diapers.
Homeschool lessons.
By 11:00, my gumption was waning, and everyone’s attitudes were souring. With a thump, I closed the last schoolbook and told the kids to get their snow gear. We were going swan hunting (with my camera) and sledding. Just a quick trip out to look on the river for the swans followed by sledding down the hill a few times and back before lunch.
All was going well until the “back before lunch” part.
As I pulled down the hill, I didn’t quite make it through the snowdrift at the bottom.
I was stuck.
Attempting to pull forward only resulted in spinning wheels. Attempting to reverse resulted in spinning wheels and flying snow. There was nothing to do except call for help (thank you, Lord, for cell phones).
As I sat helplessly behind the steering wheel waiting for help to come, I felt my frustration start to build.
I had a fussing baby, a two-year-old who had gotten his pants wet in the snow who was now taking his socks off, a four-year-old who had left his snow pants in the other vehicle which was in town, and a seven-year-old who had deemed herself a princess and us her subjects.
But within moments of my frustration building, my seven-year-old came up with the brilliant idea of building a snowman. And just like that, the older two were off on their own adventure creating fun in the midst of undesirable circumstances.
And in short order, help arrived to pull us safely free, but there on the meadow stood evidence of making the most of the opportunity provided by being stuck.
Once again, my kiddos have taught me a lesson.
When we get stuck in the snowdrifts of life, we have a choice: we can build a mountain of frustration, or we can build snowmen.
