Good Gravy

All these tired bodies. So weary from attempted proving. I am enough. I am alright. I am making it to the other end of this winding road, this winded breath.

Why can't we embrace the pause? To survive this cosmic swirl, inhale the chaos and exhale grace.

I am not a survivor. I'm not scraping by, just making it to the next vacation from a life of problems. I'm a thriver. I take all this mess and scrape it together into beauty; into the good that is my life.

Good glory. Make my life something holy. Above the grime of tantrums and patience run out.

Not only for the lives living like me- wives and mothers. For the outside, upside, inside out. We're all in this together. Racing humans to find that prize.

The most demanding part is giving up the reigns. I don't control my life, my child, my friend. We each take what we have and go where we must, fighting upstream to our Spirit's broad pasture.

Hardest working doesn't mean best receiving. But investing heart and soul, we always reap what we sow.

If I compare and contrast these last years given to husband, child, and another child, I must exclaim- "What strength was lain under tranquil waters!"

All that I needed to learn and to love, waiting for the push, tug, pull of giving.

If I Could Turn Back Time

This human race is, and most likely always will be, obsessed with time travel. Books and movies overflow shelves with their speculating scenes and scenarios. Attempting to teach the past all the things the future wish they'd known.

I don't like carrying regrets or if-onlys around with me. They cause too much introspection. They steal too much from today. But the lessons learned, those are invaluable. People say live and learn, I think it's healthy to make note of the lessons we've learned so we don't forget to live by them.

Revisiting my high-school-self I would tell her all that loneliness was forming so much strength. I would affirm the wacky uniqueness she possessed but felt so uncomfortable in, so sure that it was something to shed before she could become an adult, before she could find her "soul connection". I'd let my first-and-only-relationship-self relish every midday walk and coffee date. I would congratulate her for her grounded-ness and the good chunk of money they saved up together. I would tell my first-time-mommy-self she is doing great, even when she feels like she's lost in a stormy sea of crying and emotional turbulence. I would let her know that yes, old things have passed away- days of doing what she wants when she wants. But a new thing has come- new contentment of simply loving and being loved in a way only a mother and child can.

If I could turn back time mostly I would tell myself to let go and live. All my eyeing the progressions and possessions of another's life only returned resentment and fear. Worry is such a wicked curse, whispering that what we know now is reality forever. But when we live by our lessons, the truth is undeniable—this too shall pass.

In three years I'll look back on my two-kids-self and command a slowing down of time. The nights at home rocking babies to sleep will seem so sweet, park play dates precious and pure. Maybe I'll even miss the spitting up and blow-out diapers. But most likely not.

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My response is to get down on my knees before the Father, this magnificent Father who parcels out all heaven and earth. I ask him to strengthen you by his Spirit—not a brute strength but a glorious inner strength—that Christ will live in you as you open the door and invite him in. And I ask him that with both feet planted firmly on love, you’ll be able to take in with all followers of Jesus the extravagant dimensions of Christ’s love. Reach out and experience the breadth! Test its length! Plumb the depths! Rise to the heights! Live full lives, full in the fullness of God. (Eph. 3:14-19 MSG)

Becoming Great

... But whoever wishes to become great among you shall be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you shall be your slave; just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life a ransom for many. -Matthew 20:26-28

What a privilege we have, to live this life as a servant, bearing and birthing tiny creatures who don't offer us the choice, to serve or not to serve. Selflessness is demanded, required, unceasing.

I'm learning a little more every day what it is to give continually. To give my ears, my heart, my body. Not just to those tiny creatures, but even after a frustrating afternoon still give to my husband when he comes home, and to the people I interact with as I go about my day.

Learning it's not a competition or a scale we have to balance, who gave more, who's felt more unloved or devalued. Our greatest commandment is to love, and love usually looks more like serving than it does conquering.

It takes a very special pair of rose colored glasses to see this life of serving as a privilege, to believe that we are becoming great with all our giving. Those glasses are rose colored and thorn covered.

This serving-life draws blood, asks for the very sustenance of our life. It can leave us feeling more at risk to bacteria and disease than feeling great or strong.

Maybe my theology has been rattled by all the crying, but I've been thinking Jesus might not have come to teach lessons or gain a following, but to serve. The miracles, demonstrations of power, raising Himself from the dead- maybe it was all serving. If so, shouldn't that be our greatest honor, the highest goal?

But we're humans, and giving without always getting is hard and uncomfortable. How could changing diapers and bounce-walking earn us anything but a sore back? 

Days are long and makeup smears, hair gets frazzled and we all shed at least a few tears. Clothes get spit-up and snot wiped on, but I'm becoming great. Magazines and Instagram celebrities mostly document the clean white blankets and adorable outfits, but even those moms are becoming great. The ones with potty-trained tots, sleeping-through-the-night babies, and tantrum-less days. We all get our opportunities to serve, to give without getting. And it's a privilege. We are becoming great.