For me sometimes life seems like an endless stretching into the future, waiting for the next thing that might come my way. Or, on the flip side, a gut-wrenching look backward to all the times I got it wrong. Forward, backward, whatever. I seem to have a really hard time living in the moment.
There is a lot to look forward to of course. Plans must be made, dreams set in motion. There is nothing wrong with that. Life would be bleak indeed if we couldn't look forward to things. And memories can be a beautiful thing. Thinking back to times with loved ones, especially ones who are no longer with us can be one of the most precious things in life.
But what about when the future and the past encroach on the present? When my eyes are constantly looking into the distant future, waiting, waiting for that next elusive moment of happiness. Or when my eyes are constantly looking back, seeing all the regretful moments of my life. The looking ahead can become a restlessness in my soul that is unquenchable, and the looking back can become a shackle around my ankle, weighing me down.
What about just being content and happy in this moment? It is a struggle to stay focus and engaged on what is right in front of me. A struggle because of our technology filled world of course, but also just my own restless, discontented spirit gets in the way so very often. It feels so sad that I have this amazing life sitting right in front of me, and yet the urge to complain or fret is so often right at the tip of my mind (and therefore the tip of my tongue. Whatever I think, comes out of my mouth. But that is another topic altogether.) causing the joy of my present moment to be stripped away.
In this moment I have a husband who loves me. A cozy home to live in, on a beautiful property. Three spunky, gorgeous children. Health. Food. Clothing. In this moment I have more than I could ever possibly want or need. Books at my disposal. A lazyboy to put my feet up while I read. Or type. All of this, is what faces me this very moment. This moment. This moment, this very day, is all I have.
I'm not a new year's resolution kind of person, simply because I'm not one to set myself up for failure. But if I could do anything better in 2016, it would be to live in the moment. To wake up in the morning with the promise to myself that I will enjoy this one beautiful day. If I could accomplish this, then all of those beautiful days would eventually string together into one beautiful life. And this is it. This is my life. In all of it's messy beauty, this is my life.
It's so hard when the rubber meets the road though. When you wake up to children fighting and toast burning and school not going well and someone constantly needing you to play a game with them. It's hard to live in the moment when supper needs to be cooked (and who knows what to make anyway?) and an endless array of mind-numbing chores must be done. When you feel cranky and irritated and why AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO EVER DOES ANYTHING AROUND HERE and you know how it is.
But what if, what if all of those hard moments are the moments that make up a great life? What if my perspective could shift and instead of griping and complaining I could just be thankful that there is a family, a family in my home who, as long as they need fresh underwear, means that they are alive and healthy and well? I read something along those lines one time and I wish I could find it now. It was about how perspective is everything. Instead of seeing a dirty floor, see the beautiful children who tracked the dirt. Instead of sighing about grocery shopping, breathe a prayer of thankfulness that there is a grocery store stocked with food and money with which to buy it. Instead of groaning about ironing your husband's shirts (does anyone love ironing??) think of the man who faithfully gets up and goes to work every day without complaining so that you can have your beautiful life.
It is definitely a challenge for me, complainer that I am. But this is my goal for 2016: to live in the moment and be thankful for the beauty that is sitting right under my nose.
Monday, 11 January 2016
Thursday, 7 January 2016
This is me
You might see me on social media and think I have it all together.
You would be wrong.
That picture I post of freshly baked cookies? You don't know that those were the six I didn't burn.
That picture I post of my smiling kids? You don't know that those smiles lasted all of thirty seconds in our day from hell.
That picture I posted of my kids having a picnic? You don't know that as soon as I posted it, I turned around and yelled at them.
That status I wrote that included a Bible verse? You don't know that I had to post it because that day, that week, I was hanging on to God's promises by a mere thread.
That status I wrote about how great my kids did on their tests? You don't know the months of cajoling and tears and fighting it got to get there.
That encouraging post I shared? You don't know how desperately my own soul needed it.
That picture I posted of us on our family vacation? You don't know that most of the week I complained and the kids fought and we all wondered why we bothered.
That post I shared about homeschooling? You don't know that every single day I second guess our decision to home-educate.
That gorgeous scenery picture of my backyard? You don't know that I have mice crawling through my walls, cobwebs in my corners, dirt in my sink.
That picture of the meal I posted? You don't know that it's the only 'real' meal I served my family all week.
You don't know that I cry, that I yell, that I complain on a regular basis. That I find parenting difficult.
I claim to have faith in God, yet I struggle with anxiety.
You don't know that my kids fight, that they say hateful things to me and their siblings.
You don't know that my husband and I, although we have a good marriage, have fought so hard to get here. There have been days of wondering, hours of tears, lots of not-understanding, years of up-and-down. Lulls, boredom, anger.
You don't know that I could possibly be diagnosed with MS this year. That I struggle to figure out why. That although I am healthy and maybe this diagnosis won't come to pass, I wonder what God is doing. I cry, I rage, I find peace. Then I cry and rage again.
I wonder if God is really with me, if anyone else ever has doubts. I wonder if He is good. I wonder if there is a reason for all of this, if He will make good on His promise to restore justice.
Any slice of wisdom that it seems like I am imparting, know that I have climbed a mountain, crawled through a valley and shed an ocean of tears to get to that place.
Any bit of encouragement that might cross my lips, is being shared because I, more than anyone, needs to be lifted out of the fog of discouragement.
I have a great life. I try so hard to be thankful, to be grateful for what I've been given. But that is only a small part of the story. I am also human and real and struggling. The person that is presented on social media is only a slice, a tiny percentage of who I am. I never want anyone to forget that. We are all in this messy, beautiful, heartbreaking, amazing life together. Let's stop the comparison game, shall we? I'll go first.
You would be wrong.
That picture I post of freshly baked cookies? You don't know that those were the six I didn't burn.
That picture I post of my smiling kids? You don't know that those smiles lasted all of thirty seconds in our day from hell.
That picture I posted of my kids having a picnic? You don't know that as soon as I posted it, I turned around and yelled at them.
That status I wrote that included a Bible verse? You don't know that I had to post it because that day, that week, I was hanging on to God's promises by a mere thread.
That status I wrote about how great my kids did on their tests? You don't know the months of cajoling and tears and fighting it got to get there.
That encouraging post I shared? You don't know how desperately my own soul needed it.
That picture I posted of us on our family vacation? You don't know that most of the week I complained and the kids fought and we all wondered why we bothered.
That post I shared about homeschooling? You don't know that every single day I second guess our decision to home-educate.
That gorgeous scenery picture of my backyard? You don't know that I have mice crawling through my walls, cobwebs in my corners, dirt in my sink.
That picture of the meal I posted? You don't know that it's the only 'real' meal I served my family all week.
You don't know that I cry, that I yell, that I complain on a regular basis. That I find parenting difficult.
I claim to have faith in God, yet I struggle with anxiety.
You don't know that my kids fight, that they say hateful things to me and their siblings.
You don't know that my husband and I, although we have a good marriage, have fought so hard to get here. There have been days of wondering, hours of tears, lots of not-understanding, years of up-and-down. Lulls, boredom, anger.
You don't know that I could possibly be diagnosed with MS this year. That I struggle to figure out why. That although I am healthy and maybe this diagnosis won't come to pass, I wonder what God is doing. I cry, I rage, I find peace. Then I cry and rage again.
I wonder if God is really with me, if anyone else ever has doubts. I wonder if He is good. I wonder if there is a reason for all of this, if He will make good on His promise to restore justice.
Any slice of wisdom that it seems like I am imparting, know that I have climbed a mountain, crawled through a valley and shed an ocean of tears to get to that place.
Any bit of encouragement that might cross my lips, is being shared because I, more than anyone, needs to be lifted out of the fog of discouragement.
I have a great life. I try so hard to be thankful, to be grateful for what I've been given. But that is only a small part of the story. I am also human and real and struggling. The person that is presented on social media is only a slice, a tiny percentage of who I am. I never want anyone to forget that. We are all in this messy, beautiful, heartbreaking, amazing life together. Let's stop the comparison game, shall we? I'll go first.
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