Monday, October 16, 2017

This Is My Story, This Is My Song

Sometimes if Heath and I ever want to chuckle, we start reminiscing on our days when we first got married...how we made it through the week on $50 worth of groceries and how our furniture and everything we owned were hand-me-downs. We chuckled about the walks we would take after supper because we had nothing but time. And oh did we think we were big when we got our first 30+ inch flat screen! Everything was simple. That newlywed stage is so precious. You can pretty much survive on air and water.


We had nothing, but we had it all.

Had I known that I would look back one day and miss those simple days, I would've cherished them so much more. I remember being pretty consumed with the future and all the things I wanted out of life that I rarely stopped to realize I was making memories. Because I was always focused on the next big thing or event, I rarely took the time to soak up that time of our lives, and now, I miss it. That first year and a half in our little house is a blur. Who was that girl? I don't even remember her anymore.



Another home, two kids, and a dream come true later, I find myself in survival mode quite often. I find myself longing for that newness...plans...craving that season of life I used to have in my grasp but couldn't even enjoy because I couldn't foresee the rapidity of time. I miss it so much that I've found it has made me somewhat bitter in my soul. Whereas I used to live in a state of perpetual excitement and spontaneity, now I find myself living in a state of exhaustion and anxiety wondering if I'll ever have another day to truly rest. Wondering if the kids are going to be okay. Wondering how Isaac will do when he goes to school next year. Wondering who's going to come to the house when it's in the middle of Hurricane Isaac and Caroline. Wondering why the thought of going to the grocery store is just about as mentally exhausting as actually going. Wondering why I am so boring now. Wondering why I find myself complaining more than praising.

I call it Mom Tired.

A lot about life is learning to appreciate what we have, and sometimes, it's just plain ole hard.



But what we have now is something beautiful. It's unique. It's precious. It's our story. It's our song. What we have now we will never have again. Sure, it's hard. It's really hard! And mamas, that woman down the road has her own version of "hard." Sure, I've been victim of eyeballing other ladies' levels of "hard," but what we don't see is that ALL women are battling with the enemy in their own ways. We never know when someone is looking at our lives questioning our level of "hard." We're human, and the enemy is going to remind us of this until we allow God's grace to show him up.



It's not our job to figure this out. God already has.

We only have this one life to live, and God is the only source of pure joy that can replenish our empty hearts when our selfish instincts tell us we need something fulfilling from the world. Somehow, the more we think we need, and the more we eventually get, the more we have to worry about and the more unsatisfied we are. The more we think we need to make us happy, the less we are relying on God to fill that void that the enemy bores into our minds. And he will bore away until he gets in.

Matthew 6: 20-21 says, "But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal: For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also." 


My prayer for us moms today is that we become more aware of where our treasure is and of the memories that are being made in our daily lives right under our noses. Most of us are tired, frazzled, and mentally drained. We try to do it all, and we try to do it well. But there's more with the Lord. My hope for us is that we can learn to be more present and to see the bigger story that God has already imagined for us. He's still working on us!

"Quiet down, cobwebs. Dust, go to sleep. I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep."

- Ruth Hulbert Hamilton

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