Confession: Escape...

Escape: 1:)to slip or get away, as from confinement or restraint; gain or regain liberty.
2:) to slip away from pursuit; avoid capture, punishment, or any threatened evil.
3:) to slip away, fade

Do you ever feel like you need to escape, to slip away, fade, avoid capture?

I do, sometimes a slip away will do, other times escape is more like it, and some days I could just completely fade. While I'd like to say that this is a rare occurrence, I can't because I want to be totally honest, so I will be honest and tell you that it happens quite often.

I'm going to "paint you a picture":

Saturday came and with it came the busyness of life, my husband and I going in opposite directions, both taking some or one child/children. He left early with our son and caught the train to work for a few meetings. I got our daughters ready and we braved the stores to get a few fall clothing items, since tank tops won't do in 60 degree weather.

 My older daughter did awesome, she loves shopping so she just walked with me, talking and giggling, helping me pick out clothes for herself and her sister. Now my youngest, now that's a whole different story, which I should have expected. What would make me think that a 17 month old would last that long in the store like that, I clearly wasn't prepared for the day. She doesn't like to ride in strollers, carts, or arms, she wants to run free up and down the aisles, ripping clothes off of the racks, slinging sneakers off of the shelves, screaming loud enough to attract the typical nasty looks. So here I am trying to shop and control this wild thing that I call my child, bananas, cereal bars, sippy cups, toys, books, clothes...nope didn't work.

I decide to end the shopping trip after I'm all out of tricks and treats, (no pun intended, I promise) and we head to the check out line. We stand in line for 30 minutes waiting to check out, all the while the baby is screaming and now biting me because I won't put her down, and the nasty looks continue. We finish, and we start our hike to the car, now I'm dragging my tired 4 year old, and squeezing the guts out of my 17 month old while she struggles to get free and run wild. We walk about a half mile past the van before I realize that I was headed for the wrong van, turn around walk back and buckle in. From there I decide to stop and have lunch with them, which actually was quite pleasant.

When lunch is over we head home, unload the car and turn on a show for the girls so that I can now tackle the war zone that is my first floor. While I'm scrubbing the baby is pulling on my pants, yelling "UP", and destroying everything in her path, which just happens to be the path that I've just cleaned. After an hour or so of scrubbing, I decide to sit with them and just "relax" with a cup of coffee. Now, I can honestly say that I don't remember what happened between then and when Ray got home, it's all just blah. 

The rest of the day is pretty much gone in my brain until about 7:45 when I decide to fix something to eat. After getting the kids what they want, I fix myself and my husband some leftover chicken sausage and spinach soup and Italian bread.  As soon as my food is perfectly prepared and ready to be devoured, the baby is screaming at me again, now she wants to nurse for nothing more than comfort. I put my soup on the counter and I start running in circles around the house, she follows, screaming "Mommy" even louder now, and I just keep running. Then I see it....My ESCAPE!!!

Two tall, overflowing, laundry baskets sitting between the kitchen and laundry room, much too tall for a baby to see over. I circle the house one more time so that I can get far enough ahead to hide, I grab my food off the counter and I fling myself onto the floor, behind the baskets. What do I find? A pillow, the perfect cushion, the perfect make shift seat, the perfect spot to rest my rear. So behind the tall laundry baskets, in a dark room, on top of a pillow, on the floor, I sit, with my soup in my lap. I savor every bit, taking my time, eating in peace, soaking up the last drops with my bread...my escape.

No, it wasn't on a beautiful mountain top with an amazing view and fresh air, it wasn't a beach somewhere tropical where all I could hear were the waves crashing, it wasn't a spa, or bike ride, or a long walk. It was simple, it was the floor, on a pillow, behind a laundry basket in a dark room, in the quiet, and I prayed and sat with my bowl of soup,  it was the escape I needed, or was it something else?

I've had times where I wanted more than a little slip away, where I felt like I needed to escape my life and run and hide, times that I've wished I could fade away and never been seen... In recent times I've learned that it's not the escape I should be looking for, but the RESCUE!

Even to your old age and gray hairs I am He, I am He who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you. (Isaiah 46:4)

As I sat behind the baskets, before I took the first bite of soup, I looked up almost in tears and thought, "why do I feel like I need to escape?" There I was in my laundry room, and I was blanketed with peace and reminded that I just needed to be still long enough to be rescued.

Rescue: to free from confinement, danger or evil; to save or deliver

So, do you need an escape, or do you need to be rescued?