Keeping up Appearances

The blog looks pretty unkempt right about now. Apparently hackers broke into my theme and inserted links they hoped people would click on like, “Bill Cosby travels to China, check it out!”. I’m completely serious. So I have a little bit of work to do clearing out the theme and making it pretty again.

Speaking of appearances…I feel like I mostly post out of my messy, very real places. I write about things that I struggle with, hoping someone can relate and that they will feel less alone, and because articulating it in writing usually helps me process. And though relating doesn’t necessarily solve things, it always helps to know someone else thinks the same things, and that in itself can help you move forward. Or just feel less alone while you’re by yourself drinking your morning coffee waiting for your kids to wake up. Which I’m still doing. I’m actually just waiting on Bryce, Addie has been up since dawn, but man, can that boy sleep. He’s just storing energy to he can climb on tables, chairs, into sinks, and laugh while my heart stops 18 times a day.

So heres my thought for today. While I mostly wanted to post to apologize for how beastly the blog looks, it got me thinking about the image we want to project to people.

I think that I’m normally great with people thinking I’m a work in progress, but I still want to appear to have it mostly together. To have my house look super clean and cute when you come over. To appear not to worry about what people think, if someone likes me or (eegads!) doesn’t, or thinks I’m doing a good job, whatever that means, but my head still thinks it.

What God has been trying to tell me this year, and it gets projected louder and louder each time I struggle with this (I’m pretty sure He has resorted to yelling, in the most loving way possible, at this child he adores), is that His voice is the one that needs to be the loudest, not all of the other voices I look to for approval, even pastors. He is the one who will tell me how I’m doing, where I need to go. I’m looking to drown out all of the other voices, until His is the one I hear most clearly, and look to most often.

On that note, I just heard a thud coming from Bryce’s room. I’m assuming he just threw a book, but I’m going to go make sure he hasn’t hurled himself.

Making a way in the wilderness

It has been a very long time since I’ve logged into the old blog. Actually, I’ve logged in, but had no idea what to write. I’ve been trying to figure out whats been stopping me from posting, and then I remember that its a vortex of laundry, kids, gross counters, exhaustion, a full brain, topped off with a cherry of self doubt. What do I talk about after almost 2 years? You’d think I would have stockpiled a few funny, touching stories over the months, but its actually the opposite. My brain lately is like a sieve – and most of the things that would be helpful for me to remember are strained out and, well, out there. Somewhere.

Apparently I have Addie enrolled in a dance class? We’ve gone for a few weeks, and then today on the phone today my mom asked me how dance was going. I literally had no idea what she was talking about. Class was yesterday. We did not go. And hopefully I remember next week. I’m very proud of myself when I remember to text people back quickly. On the other hand, if I haven’t gotten back to you, I’m sorry….
Gun to my head, if I had to sum up the past years and months, I would say that I’ve fallen down a lot. Figuratively and literally. I’ve become significantly less graceful and poised in public. Bryce and I were recently in the Spotted Cow, one of our favorite outings while Addie is in preschool. While I was chatting with a friend, ever so cool and sociable, I walked backwards out of the Cow, tripping backwards and knocking over several metal (and therefore loud) chairs on the way. While Baby and coffee remained unharmed, my pride was a little banged up, but not as much as it would have been a few years ago. The older I become, and the longer I parent tiny children who try to pull my pants down in public and unlock public bathroom stalls while I’m using them, the more I let go of this idea of being pulled together. Though that doesn’t mean I don’t desperately want to be.

monstersOver the months since I’ve written, I’ve fallen down in the more figurative sense. I feel tired 90% of the time, and on top of my life the other 10%. Striving to be a successful mom/woman/friend/wife trips me up, because inevitably there are days my children are. just. cranky. Or I am! And I’m not always filled with grace for them, but my heart wants to be. Or I skip that run, take a nap instead of clean, drink too much coffee (I used to wonder if there was such a thing but have since figured out that yes, there really is), or don’t show a friend the love I could, because I don’t feel I have the time. For me, the struggle in these places has been in thinking that this is failure, that this is the way it will be, that God can’t or won’t forge a new path for me.

But God says, “Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.” Isaiah 43: 18-19.

And I remember that there is so much hope! Hope when I feel tired and I see all of my plans casually strewn about the messiness that sometimes is my house (or my car. My poor, poor car. Who invented goldfish and squeezies? And why, in my desperation, did I ever give them to my kids while driving? My sweet husband thinks this all the time, I promise you).

2 Corinthians 5:17 says that if anyone is in Christ, a new creation is come. The old is gone. A favorite author of mine, Lysa Terkeurst, reminds us through this verse that everything broken is subject to restoration. That means me, you…I’m not sure if it applies to chaos that can exist in my home but I kind of think so. I think God works in those little things. God is bigger than the self doubt I experience when someone watches me discipline my children (being in that fishbowl is torture for me. Torture.) He’s bigger than my forgetfulness, and my good intentions, and my inability to promptly respond to texts or find my phone. I believe that no matter how many times we try, try, and try again, and then try some more, He can and will still restore us. Me. And thats a beautiful truth.

© Copyright A House Blend - Theme by Pexeto