Starting Over, Again

More than ten years ago, I felt God breathe a word into my heart. That my words would help to revive the spirits of many people. I’ve blogged for a long time, since my kids were little and I still really hated the word “blog” (I’ve come to terms with it since then). Because I didn’t know what the word meant exactly, I floundered. I waited for more explanation, I wrote what I felt like writing but rarely got serious because I just wanted to see the whole picture.

Two years ago, I had a similar experience, feeling God call me to a number of things all at once, writing (and possibly speaking) being one of them. I reacted to this calling in a very similar way: I was confused, overwhelmed, uncertain and clinging to perfectionism that demanded the full picture be visible before I ever started to draw, so to speak.

Last year, I felt a renewal of this calling with more added to it. I started off well in the fall, but yet again, found myself back to square one, unsure, doubting, feeling lost, and still waiting for more – more followers, more comments, more knowledge of what I was supposed to be doing.

Yesterday I heard a very personal message from someone I had just met. She talked about missed opportunities when we disobey or delay our obedience. But instead of drilling in how important obedience is or how much she had missed out on, she focused on the importance of accepting God’s forgiveness and forgiving ourselves. I realized right away that God was using her to speak to me. Reminding me that it wasn’t too late. That it might look different now than it would have ten years ago, two years ago or last year. But that it wasn’t a lost cause and I needed to let go of the perfectionism, turn over a new leaf, forgive myself and move on. I believe that God wants to use me to speak to people. Sometimes I think He just wants me to make them laugh, and honestly, that’s my favourite part. “A merry heart does good like a medicine,” and it is refreshing to me as well as the reader. Other times, I share what is on my heart and hope that it helps someone else to know they aren’t alone, that there is at least one person out there that gets it. Whether that is in relation to parenting, unschooling, the challenges of a big family, etc. I know that someone needs to hear it.

I am sorry if I had something to say that you needed to hear. I am sorry that I allowed perfectionism to speak to me and make me give up when I couldn’t get it all just perfect. It’s a battle I’ve been fighting for a long time and I really want to win. I can’t make promises but I do know that I want to be obedient and I want to follow where the Spirit leads. I have forgiven myself and have talked to a few people about this, hoping for the help of accountability this time around.

I don’t know what the future holds but I do know I cannot be silent when even one person needs to hear my voice. I cannot stand back in doubt or fear when one person needs my prayers for healing. I pray now for grace to continue this task. For a multiplication of time and resources that will allow me to accomplish it.

If you have let something slip by because of fear or disobedience, it’s not too late to change course. The work might look different now – the person who needs prayer, discipleship or encouragement might be someone new – but it’s still worth it. God forgives when we ask Him and so forgiving ourselves is the crucial next step.

Twelve Years

Twelve years ago, after posting thoughts here and there on MySpace (yes, I’m that old), I started my first blog. I have had a number of them, mostly because I keep trying to rebrand myself when I feel I’m getting too whiny.

I was talking to a friend who recently published a book and she mentioned using some content from her blog in her book. Not to say I’ll do that, but it did make me think about how much I’ve written and how far I’ve come – or how much I’ve stayed exactly the same. So I went to that original blog and found my very first post. It was short and to the point and I can see how much I’m the same person now, plus six additional children and a house that is three times the size but somehow feels less messy even though I’m not sure my housekeeping skills have improved.

This is it. I hope to re-read most of what I’ve written in the last twelve years, if just to see what I can learn from myself and to remind myself of how far I have come. Screenshot_2019-05-17 Life as a Housewife(3)

Stagnant

I saw an illustration today that punched me in the gut. I saw it right after I was lamenting the fact that here we are, here I am, in the same place, doing the same things, day after day. Never moving forward, stuck. And then this reminder that where we are and where we want to be aren’t always far apart.

your comfort zone

I will admit that it is difficult to be a person convicted of my rightful place in my home but bubbling over with dreams and goals. Do I lay those things down for good? For five years? Ten? When I will likely have babies or small children in my home for twenty more years? Even now, I took advantage of relative quiet and a burst of inspiration to write and was immediately accosted by a four year old asking for an apple and a show on the computer that I’m using. I want to be this but I need to be that. So what do I do with my time instead? I waste it. I freely admit that. I feel like I’m just supervising children all day and constantly being interrupted every time I try to do something of any importance so I fiddle around scrolling Facebook and lately, playing games on my phone or the computer. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.

But there is always this feeling that the graphic above is truth. That it really isn’t very far from where I am to where I want to be so desperately. That it has more to do with stepping outside my comfort zone than it does with my daily life and its demands. Commitment is required and commitment is uncomfortable.

At present, I am faced daily with my aching and overweight body. I want to be gentle with myself, being less than four months postpartum. I want to mend my broken body the right way, rather than rush to lose weight and not actually fix anything like I’ve done in the past. But TIME and EFFORT and so many other things prevent me from digging my heels in and striving for the balance I would have to support so delicately.

I am challenged by a writing project I started recently and dozens of others I’ve started in the past, sitting in the documents folder of my desktop, waiting for inspiration and hard work. Waiting for commitment.

Two days ago, we drove into the country to drop our two oldest kids off at camp for a weekend retreat. As we drove past cattle farms and fields dotted with new calves, I talked about how much hard work farming must be; what a different lifestyle that would be. But really, all of us could stand to live in hard work because it makes rest so much sweeter. What I’m doing every day with all this idling is not rest, even when I tell myself that it is. I have stood by and watched as people around me have found an abundance in life because they chose to work hard. The hard truth is that hard work is just outside of my comfort zone. I’ve never had to work very hard for anything, if we’re being honest.

I use my “mother of many” status to excuse my behaviour. And maybe there are some things I just cannot do at this point in my life, hard work or not. But the truth is that I’m lazy most of the time and comfortable in it. But this kind of lifestyle leads only to being stagnant and that is a special kind of discomfort, an itch that cannot be scratched by anything other than hard work and commitment.