I was dragging Elliott and Caiden along on this endeavor, of course, and as we were driving along the road (we happened to be on an island) we glanced over to our left--where the land met the San Francisco bay--and beheld such a beautiful sight; the sun was setting down beneath San Francisco, setting the water aglow. The tide was out farther than I've ever seen it. The kids and I were in awe and suddenly I realized that the things that were driving me (chores, errands, projects) were not my captors--I held the keys to our freedom. The choice was mine--stop and enjoy this beautiful moment or carry on and let the moment pass us by.
We stopped. And it was beautiful and a thrillingly captivating adventure. We made our way out, out, out onto the ooey gooey sand, treading upon surfaces which are normally forbidden to all except the sea creatures who make their home there. We were a little wary and scared and I kept yelling at Caiden to try not to step too much in the puddles, but it was no use--her feet got soaked; all of our feet got wet and mucky, but no matter. We triumphantly made it all the way out to the water's edge and soaked it all in. We looked back to see how far we'd come; we watched and listened to the salty birds stretching their wings and exercising their lungs; we looked at all of the colors the sun was making; and we got surprised by the tide creeping in that got our toes even more wet inside of our shoes. It was stinky, and wet, and beautiful.
For just a few moments during a very busy time, we had actually stopped and "smelled the roses" and its a stop I've never regretted.
We drank in God's beauty, thanked Him, and then jumped back on to the moving walkway of life, scrambled home, made dinner, and enjoyed the company of others.