Move Your Feet

Well this week has been nothing short of crazy.  A mostly good crazy, mind you.  The week began with a notion to sell my old Honda.  This notion has been bouncing around in my brain for awhile now, but I never did much about it.  This time, though, I posted a few pictures on KSL and listed Taz (yes, I name my cars) for sale.  (Forgive the picture quality, my phone is ancient in technology years.)

It sold fast.  Very fast.  Much faster than I had anticipated, and as that wonderful car of mine drove away, I felt sad inside.  Silly, I know it, but I felt like some little part of me was driving away with that car.  Memories, really, and lots of them.  Now, for the purpose of this post, the only reason I have a picture of my car and its backside is for the license plate.
I was reminded of the meaning of that license plate this morning.

Last night was one of those nights.  And?  So was the night before.  And the night before, and the night before.  Sleep.  Oh.  Where did you go?  The mornings are the worst.  James usually wakes up around 4, and will usually go back to sleep by about 5:30.  Well, he did just that this morning, but he was also up most of the night.  For whatever reason, I always sleep the deepest in the morning hours.  This morning was no different.  I had been asleep for one hour when it was time for my other little man to be up.  Like clockwork, he came out of his room and crawled into my bed, waking me up.  Then James woke up, which is not usual. Jack said, "Oh!  Mom!  James is crying, get him!"  Enter groggy, annoyed, still halfway in dream state, angry bear mom.  I felt a little boil inside as my head was screaming, "NOOOOOO, I just want to sleep.  Please, go away, and let me sleep."  No such luck.  I had a 3 year old, and a 1 month old who both needed my undivided attention, and at the same time.

For a brief moment I pleaded in my heart up to the heavens that they would magically fall asleep.  If only I had a genie, yeah?  Again, no such luck.  Well, the tears came without warning.  I just started crying.  I thought, no.  Not today.  I can't do it today.  I need a minute.  More than a minute.  I need a few hours.  Me time.  I need me time, please, not today.  Then something happened.  That oh so wonderful voice inside my heart said, "Just move your feet, and I will do the rest."  Enter angry bear mamma wishing for hibernation.  Just move my feet?  Seriously?!  The notion of even moving a finger let alone my feet was astronomically impossible.  And?  At 7 this morning with almost no sleep, I didn't want to move anything.
"Just move your feet, Jess, and I will do the rest."
I looked at my ceiling, and thus to the sky.
Then, I moved my feet.

The rest of the morning followed as each morning does.  Breakfast for both boys, breakfast for myself, playing with Jack, and getting James to sleep.  Nothing special happened.  At least, nothing special to outside eyes who might view my daily routine.  What those outside eyes do not see, however, are the inner struggles that tend to bog a weary body down.  God knows what He did for me today, and as simple as it was, I owe him a great deal for it.

And so it is, no?  The license plate on my car came flooding to memory this morning.  KPNKPNN.  Keep on keepin' on.  Endurance, as big a word as it is, doesn't always entail a gigantic step towards a greater goal.  Endurance is often something smaller.  Something more intimate.  Endurance comes with those little, bitty steps we make each morning.  Those brave moments we take to breathe in, then out, and move another foot forward.  No matter the hardship we face, and however small it may seem to outside eyes, sometimes just moving our feet will help us reach whatever peace we need.
Sometimes the simplest steps are the hardest ones to take.
So take my lesson from this morning.  Just get up.  Move your feet.
And KPNKPNN.