Skip to main content

keys to the kingdom

every once in a while i see a simple scene in a movie - a simple, mundane type of scene, but set to music - like a family at the dinner table or something, and i feel a sense of longing in me. that somehow i wish my life was that romantic. that i want to capture the moments of my life and set them to a soundtrack for the world to see. i want the life i live to be worth watching again. and then i tend to shelve that emotion among the dreams and unreachables in my soul.

but then i have days like this thursday, and i realize that i am living that life, if only i would just pay attention.

thursday was my day off. i woke up early and did some reading and praying, before the kids got up. they got up earlier than expected, because one of them peed the bed, so i took care of that mess, and then we watched cartoons in bed for awhile until breakfast. shannon uses my day off to get some much needed work done for her business, so i got jack and cade dressed and we headed over to the library, where we looked at books, played with puzzles and puppets, and ended up borrowing books, cd's and a dvd. then we headed down to the church, where i sat in a lawn chair listening to coldplay and drinking coffee while the boys rode around the parking lot on their bike/scooter/big wheel. our driveway at our house is pretty steep, and they can't really ride very well there, so we spent the rest of the morning on a variety of wheels at the church. while they rode i finished a book i've been reading ("my beautiful idol," by pete gall), and by then it was noon, so we went through the drive-thru at mcdonald's and took our chicken mcnuggets to the park for a picnic. after enjoying our chicken-ish product and golden fries, they played on the swings and slides and so on for another hour. i watched them run and laugh. i pushed them on the swings and touched their little backs as they arched back towards me, like metronomes counting out their perfectly joyful day.

after the park we headed home, where we played with bubbles. after we were all sufficiently covered in soap, cade took a nap and jack took his 'quiet time,' during which i worked on and finished this collage.

"keys to the kingdom"

mixed media assemblage in a cigar box lid, keys, game pieces, buttons, etc.

gregory a. milinovich

jack was beat from all the playing so he fell asleep during his quiet time. i let him sleep a little, and then woke him up and showed him my collage. he liked it and wanted to make one with me, so we made this little fun one together:

"mr. green"

cardboard game piece collage on hardcover book panel

jackson a. and gregory a. milinovich

after caedmon woke up from his nap, we watched an episode of meerkat manor and then decided to exercise together by having a dance party. we danced like monkeys who had downed a few too many red bulls, laughing all the while. after i sweated off the weight of a third child, shannon called us up for a wonderful dinner, which she had been upstairs making: homemade crab cakes with a tropical sauce, rice and beans and fried plantains. yum! we ate and talked and, at one point, laughed until we snorted and cried. the kids had no idea what was so funny, but they laughed right along anyway.

after dinner we went to rita's for some italian ice. in the car on the way to and from rita's, we rolled down the windows and sang and felt the air in our faces. then home for bath. it was shannon's night to put the kids in bed, but as i sat on my bed watching the yankees game, jack poked his head around the door and said, "i love you so much, daddy."

you know, days don't get much more romantic than that. yeah, there were tears and a few sibling fights along the way. there are the inevitable wet beds and scraped knees, but there was also unbridled, unbuyable unfilmable joy. just a family laughing, loving, and living their way through another day. i didn't capture it on film, and i won't be able to set it to some song with a nice emotional string part, but i did live it. i danced. i laughed. i sang. and i loved as fully as i could. that is a day - a life - worth living. and i have a feeling it is what God envisions for all of us as God's children. and what we mean when we pray, "thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven." the keys to that kingdom are loving wildly and freely, and living abundantly right now in the midst of whatever day in which you find yourself.

Comments

monica said…
thanks for writing that. i needed reminding of it today
monica

Popular posts from this blog

#thoughtsandprayers

i made these comments and prayed the following prayer at one of our worship services at SPWF yesterday, and had a few folks asked if i would post them, so there they are: 
It has been a season of terrible tragedy.  And I have noticed in the news a trending phrase: thoughts and prayers.  It even has its own hashtag on twitter and other social media, but net necessarily in a good way.  People are understandably tired of hearing about others’ thoughts and prayers, when that is only a thinly-veiled way of saying that our only obligation to those who suffer is a brief moment of silence, or nothing more than a tweet or public statement.  The truth is that, for those of us who follow Jesus, much is required when our neighbors suffer.  We are called to do justice where we can, to love kindness and mercy, and to walk with God through it all.  But let us be careful not to throw out the proverbial baby with the bathwater.  We are, as people of faith, those who know that prayer is not simply an em…

a divided tree

there is a tree in my back yard.  i'm pretty sure it's an oak tree.  at least that's what i think Shannon told me.  i don't know my oaks from my maples, my elms from my locusts.  to me, it's a tree: a corinthian column bursting up into life and glory.  full of sap and pulp and rings and bugs and cells pulsing with water and always reaching for something.  it is full of rhythm, reach and flourish then fall and die, and repeat. 

this particular tree, though, isn't of one mind. 

half of it's rusted orange leaves have given up their grip and surrendered -gracefully or not - to the pull of gravity and the threat of winter.  the north side of this inauspicious oak is just about bare naked, all sticks and straight lines, a skeleton of itself.  but the side that looks south is stubbornly resisting change.  no longer green, the leaves have compromised their summer vibrancy, but they are clearly not ready to concede death just yet. 

i feel like i can relate to this …

vote. and pray. but do not be afraid (the King is alive).

i'm not sure how many americans right now are feeling optimistic about the government.  i know i'm not.  in fact, while i didn't live through the civil war or anything, i have to think that faith in our elected leaders - indeed the whole system of electing them in the first place - is at one of its lowest points.  i just don't have a great deal of confidence in those individuals who have been elected, or in those who want to be.  i find myself slipping at times into what feels like a swamp of apathy: sinking, to be sure, but not sure that i care enough anymore to do much about it.  i see this attitude all around me: in conversations, on social media, and in popular culture.  perhaps there is no more clear indication of our nation's view of the government than this current election season, when we would teeter on electing liars and thieves, crooks and clowns. 

which is why i was so startled as i sat down to read psalm 72 this morning. as i read the ancient song, i…