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.