Control

Writing always freed me in ways nothing else could.  My fingers got to moving and before I knew it I'd stumbled across truths that had been festering within and aching for an exit strategy.  Today I'm realizing I'm nervous to see what flows forth as I've finally taken the time to sit and just be.

I don't even know what to say.  Is it possible that I'm in a season of life when processing emotion is just a luxury I don't often have?  When I search myself all I come up with is, "It's just a lot right now".

A tear falls and I say it again as I breathe in deeply and exhale slowly, the kind of breath that you hope will deter an impending breakdown.  It's just a lot right now.

A precious friend recently grabbed me by my shoulders and squared up right in front of my face and I knew whatever she was going to say would send me off with more turmoil than I had come to her house with.  But I knew it would be the good kind (can turmoil even be good? Hmmm... just go there with me!).  Turmoil means "a state of great disturbance, upheaval, confusion", and I suppose I sometimes ache unknowingly for someone to come in and greatly disturb or confuse my way of thinking.  Well she did, and she spoke truth to my heart in the innermost parts.  She said, "God trusted you with Levi (long pause).  God trusted you with Dani (long pause).  And God trusted you with Kai (long pause)".  And I whispered through my tears, "And all at the same time".  That was it.  Simple truth.  Yet for my weary soul it was that great disturbance that I needed.

I bravely shook my head nodding in agreement as the deep breaths ensued and I avoided the ugly cry scenario.  As I drove away I was quieted in my soul, but it wasn't until this morning that I deeply pondered this truth.  He trusts me.  With them.  All of them.  And in this season. 

A wise woman told me a few days later that Jesus is heaping grace upon me during this season, and my husband is covering me with grace hourly as I walk through a life of unending service to a 4-yr old with cerebral palsy, a fiery toddler and an infant.  She asked me why it was so hard to give myself the same grace.  What's with all of the guilt and the "shoulding" you are living in? 

Perhaps seeing things in disarray rattles me to the core because keeping everything controlled is who I have made myself.  The savior, the peacekeeper.  Take away my control and the true object of my worship is revealed.  

What am I without the things I can produce?  The clean house, the folded laundry, homemade laundry soap, 3 meals a day 6 days a week, fresh baked bread, outings to the park, crafty projects, homemade learning activities, and on and on... when it's all stripped away - who am I?   Where do I rest?  How do I find value?  Where is my identity?  In the work of my own hands.  The things I do to feel proud.  And accepted.  Not in my Jesus, or the price he paid for me. 

I am someone who continues the battle of performance and pleasing, even when no one around me requires it.  A life addicted to control because it's tangible proof that I did well today.   A mama who is experiencing what happens when life is impossible to clean up and the mess is staying for a good long while.  A mama coming to the end of herself, yet again. A mama who is beyond thankful that Jesus is sitting down beside her, there in the thick of the mess.