Rhonda Quaney: About Rockets and "Rawrs"

The advertising may have slightly, completely exaggerated.

The photograph on the box displayed a shimmering jet stream shooting from the cosmic rocket that was being propelled into outer space, bursting past planets and ring-like orbits on its way to the firmaments of heaven.

This same box claimed in bold print, "This rocket experience could be life-changing and would inspire all young scientists."

This may have led to unrealistic expectations.

I personally knew little about formal physics before last Monday. That whole, thing about, "an object at rest will remain at rest, or an object in motion will keep moving in a straight line unless a force come to act upon them?"

What I have pondered, is why Isaac Newton had such an odd hair-do choice and carried the title of "Sir" in front of his name instead of Dr. or even plain ol' Mr.

A bout of laryngitis was the other problem I had on this rocket launching day. I didn't feel terribly awful, I just couldn't talk. Not having a voice was a complete inconvenience to me, but to the six littles in my house, it was the best day ever.

I had no idea, the joy and freedom small children could feel when the only adult in their life could only speak an occasional raspy word. To which they always replied, "What?"

In hopes of establishing a working survival sign language for the day, I called a huddle. It turned into a bad game of charades. Thumbs up seemed like a perfect way to say, "Yes." Thumbs down would obviously be the opposite.

The problem with sign language is that people have to pay attention to the one who is silently waving their hands around.

So I had to find a rhythm in listening and just being present.

It was profound.

With only a small amount of hushed coaxing, the seven, six, five, four, three, and one-year-old kiddos became a rocket launching team. It seems appropriate.

They took turns doing the different tasks of preparing the launch pad, loading rocket fuel (baking soda and vinegar) and filming the results. My little man Max, and his favorite-toy-ever were in the center of it all. He loves dinosaurs, but calls them "rawrs." Max and his "rawr" were the search-and-rescue duo for rocket parts. I found myself amused.

The smallest girl was happy to run the perimeters making gurgling toddler-like noises. All of which I may have noticed because I wasn't messing up the noise level with my own voice.

After coming to grips with the reality that their rocket would never actually make it into orbit, they problem solved, why the rocket would lift off and fall over on its side compared to the times it lifted higher and flew into the yard.

What they figured out? Less was actually more. Less baking soda plus the correct amount of vinegar gave the most success.

Maybe physics is important.

They did this again. And again. And again.

The six of them laughing and working together. Me without words, admiring them.

We were winning at life.

As an adult, I get caught up in the daily, mundane, routines and forget to be fully present in life. Or I'm multi-tasking when I should be paying attention to what is the most important and currently happening.

As I wordlessly lived that beautiful, busy day, I felt an increased urgency.

I long to fully embrace the short time I have with the people God has given to me to share this life with. I can't do that with my face buried in my social media or any of the other one thousand ways I can be distracted.

With and for my children and grandchildren. Yes!

I want to live in real-time, loving my husband with all my heart, living life with an open heart, pursuing God's heart.

But I want to hear and notice the cashier at the check-out, the waitress in the restaurant and the person that came in late to slip unnoticed into the back row at church.

In a season that has increased awareness on the word, "thanks" and "giving" and "thankful living," I want to be focusing in on loving every soul that I have the privilege of coming in contact with.

I long for people (like you) to know that we are really all in this life together. Every soul is sacred. Every day spent cannot be refunded.

It's a noisy world and often times––things gets lost in that noise. I get lost in my own noise.

This all comes down to living wholehearted and present.

This week I've been holding on to what rockets and "rawrs" and silence have shown me.

How most of the glossy advertising of the world is a distorted non-reality.

How too often I have unrealistic expectations of just about everything.

How having a voice, speaking words, sharing words is a solemn gift that I need to appreciate, but being present without words is often all that is needed.

How being a mac and cheese flinging, nursery-rhyme singing, non-scientist-like women is a beautiful gift.

What if ordinary is what is sacred and God is the One who adds the extra to it?

The time is short. We aren't going to live forever. Just look at the dinosaurs.

One more thing that Sir Isaac Newton said?

"Truth is ever to be found in simplicity,

and not in the multiplicity and confusion of things."

I'm beginning to think I like this guy.

This week maybe you would join me?

Where ever we are, may we be all there.