The Undoing of the Do-Gooder

It was merely 2 weeks ago on a Sunday as we rode down the beautiful country roads of Tennessee on a crisp fall morning to church that my heart just blurted out "I am in such a peaceful place!"

And it was true. It seemed ever since the house deal fell through and we signed another lease in this small place and started home school full-fledged that God - in all His mercy! - rushed over me with His grace to cover my wounds, confront my fears, deal with my frustrations, and place a buffer between me and reality. It actually was quite glorious. I seemed to float through several months of life. Perhaps this is what "abiding" is all about! The rest that comes. The unexplained contentment. In fact, in all honesty, I felt more rich and crazy blessed than I ever had in my life! Moved to tears often at the good gifts in my life. And this was not some super-spiritual brownie point earning attempt I was on. Oh no. The real, supernatural deal! I knew, without a doubt, it was all His doing. Because my ridiculous, and I mean ridiculous type-A personality could never muster this up, not in my wildest dreams.

And then the boom was lowered....

It was as if Satan sat next to me in the car that day with his sly smile (I get the grinch visuals here. except he's red) and wispy gray tail with the red arrow fork in the end saying "alrightyyyyy then little miss glowing countenance of contentment! letsssssssssss see how you handle reality outsssssssside of that bubble!"

I am not kidding. It probably happened, and when I get to heaven I am most assuredly going to ask. Because the next day, HAVOC. Pure havoc on the home-front. Kids with attitudes, disobedience, laziness, blatant disregard for rules. An incessantly whiny and grumpy toddler. Marriage conflicts. Friend conflicts. No food in the refrigerator. The house exploded with clothes that I knew not we had. And toys and books and every possible build-a-bear hair bow (I swear I would like to have a few words with the CEO that decided it would be a good idea to hand those out by the handfuls for free every time we even walk in the store). School was a disaster as I tried to teach one kid who was whining and being sloppy and another kid that was begging for snacks every 5 seconds and another kid that was hanging on to me and grabbing at random pencils and scribbling on all the workbooks and pulling out and bending all the flash cards and charts.

And somehow today the kids didn't look so cute, the house actually did feel it's realistic cramped size, and my daily job didn't seem so glorious and all the "rocking the cradle, rocking the world"-ish.

"It's just a manic Monday!" I consoled myself and put everyone in their respective area and did a kick-butt jump-around-like-a-crazy-woman workout for almost an hour. Endorphins released. Perhaps sanity would be restored.

But the afternoon continued on in like manner.

And then I thought "well tomorrow is another day!"

And it was. Another day like this.

And the next.

And the next.

I must confessed I escaped a couple times in the weeks that followed to go roam Target by myself. Cheap therapy, girls, if ya need it, try it. Works like a charm. I also had a few nights of gut spilling to some fantastic girlfriends over a glorious margarita. I was just trying to keep it together. Or rather to pull it together. Or get it together. Or something that would help me get my ACT TOGETHER!

I was angry. Suddenly oh so very angry. At injustices of others. Hurts and wounds. Feeling unappreciated. Used. Worked to the bone. Tired.

All the while I kept trying. Something in me is a hardcore boot-strapper. I will pick myself up, dust myself off, and --oop!-- no more time to cry dear, you shed one whole tear now that's enough! Or better yet, no tears at all. Yep. That's my new thing. I'm too tough to cry. And I wasn't trying to not cry, I just somehow.... couldn't.

Tired.

Very tired.

And to make it worse I wasn't sleeping. How could I be so exhausted with all the demands on me and all the expectations and work load and be so crazy tired and yet not sleep!?! But it was happening.

One night in desperation I marched out here at 2:-something a.m. and dug around in the cabinet for the bottle of "natural calm" I bought a few months back. Sounds so nice, doesn't it!? I mean what every crunchy mamma dreams of. The kind of calm you envision that brings you a home decor magazine, a cup of warm pomegranate tea, massages your neck and shoulders, all the while everything you touch and even the air you breathe being organic.

Give me that dang bottle!

I looked on the back and ignored the whole "gradually ease into taking this, start with 1/2 tsp and work your way up to 2 tsp" and just heaped 4 tablespoons of the white powder into a cup, and let it do its whole fizz and explode thing. In that moment I felt as if a cop decided to bust in and do a random drug search I would most assuredly be locked away for 20, without parole. I downed it and sat on the couch.

Next thing I know I woke up on the couch at some odd hour when Dave came into the living room to do his paperwork. I somehow managed to shuffle myself back to the bed and don't remember anything until 8:30. wow. Yes I just said that. I know I've already lost all of you momma's because you have diverted from this page onto google and typed in "white powder drug natural calm sleep like a baby wait babies don't sleep that's why I need to sleep and please send me a free sample of under-eye concealer cream!" But that's ok. I'll forgive you. And I get it.

Thankfully my children were still alive. Poor Asher had woken up, I'm sure, as usual and must have actually tuckered himself back out and fallen back asleep in his crib. Wow.

I shuffled towards the coffee pot in my pjs with my hair in it's typical wad on top of my head. I somehow have convinced myself I look like a cute cheerleader minus the big white bow with my crazy bun/ponytail/explosion up there but I think that ended probably 9 years ago. Not really sure what's going on with me being 28 and wearing it but that's a whole 'nother issue.

As I took a sip of the warm nectar of life I thought to myself "some thing's gotta give. I'm a crazy woman. What happened to that resting/abiding in the vine/crazy peace!?!" What am I doing different now than I was then!?! Was I reading more Bible verses each day? Was I in a spiritual trance-like state that I accidentally snapped out of somehow!?"

And that's when I had the visual of Satan there in the car. Yep. Had to be him.

I prayed through it. I battled through it. I thought "today is going to be different!" But they were all seeming to be just like the rest. And I was getting depressed.

And still tired.

I tried to lighten my load. Yep that's the problem!

I've become intense about eating healthy and from-scratch and organic. So I marched myself to the store and bought 3 frozen pizzas. Yes I did. Well, they were still organic and I did have to get them on sale and combine with a double coupon, which all the effort pretty much cancelled out the "easy" part, but there. In my freezer, lies graced-based dinnering.

*proud*

Yet that wasn't enough. I had been working out like an insane woman. Double workouts most days. Everyday. So I'm going to chill out a bit. Learn to rest. Enjoy a day off. Fine. I'll cut out the Sunday workout.

*proud*

Homeschooling has been a lot this year with ABeka. I have been determined to be diligent and not miss a day or a lesson. Because we got started a few weeks later with all the we-thought-we-were-moving thing, I have felt pressure to stay on it so we aren't doing school into July. But after going crazy with all that, I finally decided I would skip over some of the unnecessary flashcards to ease the load!

*proud*

We have family pictures coming up this weekend. I have been obsessively stressing about coordinating everyone. I don't want it to be mitchy-matchy. But I want it to flow. I want that pinterest square that says "layer with neutrals and pick an accent color." I can't decide if the kids should all wear their Converse's? or should we do our cowboy boots? But would it look too much like last years, even though they weren't cowboy boots, they were still boots? And I don't want the girls to be in identical clothes. Because they are getting big and becoming individuals so I have to coordinate. But one seems to be missing a sweater of a grayish color that seems absolutely pivotal to the whole family scene so I check 2 thrift stores, 1 consignment store and by the time I'm at Target having sticker shock I can't remember if the shirt I'm pearing the sweater with will even work with the pants or not. And by then I don't even know if my "accent color" will work with the boys. And what will they wear?! And lastly -- the big clincher -- I don't know what I'm going to wear. Of course it has to be stylish, hip-momma, and flattering. I can't decide between a skirt and boots or colored skinny jeans and booties and wow. It's just all so much.

And this is when I realize I'm crazy. And not just crazy but like the cray-CRAY kind!!!! Why so obsessive? Anxious? Restless?

This morning I woke up at 5:45. Wide awake. I lay there trying to convince myself to get up and go run but I was sore. So stinkin' sore. And my stomach was in a knot. And I really felt the Lord ask me "why can't you be still?"

I don't know?! What am I hiding from or running from? Why am I afraid of the silence or the sanctuary?

I got up and David brought me a cup and said "wanna have some coffee with me on the couch?"

So we sat and talked about all of this. And how the honest crazy truth is that is is revealing me. Undoing me. Bumping my innards and it's spilling out all over the place. Something has to give.

I picked up a book that has been calling my name for a long time now. Finally picked it up. "Grace for the good girl" by Emily Freeman. She had me at the preface.

Listen to this:

"You're strong. You're responsible. You're good. But as day fades to dusk, you begin to feel the familiar fog of anxiety, the weight and pressure of holding it together and of longing left unmet. Good girls sometimes feel that the Christian life means doing the hard work with a sweet disposition. We tend to focus only on the things we can handle, our disciplined lives, and our unshakable good moods.

But what would happen if we let grace pour out boundless acceptance into our worn-out hearts and undo us? If we dared to talk about the ways we hide, our longing to be known, and the fear in the knowing?"

My attention was captured.

You know those times when you can feel God has the scalpel right about the surface of your heart and it's about to get graciously nasty?! I mean the best Surgeon, the perfect operation for the situation but you know... it's gonna get ugly. Guts and blood and gore. It's all coming out. You cringe and yet, you long for it, more than anything.

That's exactly where I find myself. In the midst of my anger, and hurts, and frustrations I know, it's not about all that or all them, it's about me. Jesus meeting me here as the Great Physician and rushing in to be what I, finally confess, cannot.

So in full disclosure here, I will admit: I'm a do-gooder. I try so dang hard. I want to be a good mother. The best! Never try to yell or motivate in anger. I try to be the best wife. Supportive, helpful, forgiving, gracious, available. I try to be a good friend: volunteer to meet a need, lend an ear, offer an encouraging word or a hug. I try to keep a clean and designed-on-a-dime home. I try to cook organic. I try to push my body harder than I did in that last workout. I try to be spiritually minded and read and pray and grow my walk. I try to keep my mind sharp and have dreams and visions and plans. And I desperately try to love Jesus, and for it to be real and vibrant and full of unwavering faith.

I try and try and try.

And my try-er is weary.

I love to bawk at legalistic pharisees  I love to proclaim that their rules fly in the face of grace. And they do. And yet.... the rule book and the chains I have so bound myself in are just as dark.

I'm the prodigal son that stayed home with the father. And when my younger brother returns, I find myself yelling out in bleeding anger, "what's this big party for, I'm the one that has been here all along doing the right thing!!!!!"

I love Jesus and I believe in all faith that He is my only way to heaven. And yet down here, somehow, well, there's just so much I can do.

And yet I hide behind the mask of fear. Fear of failure, fear of rejection, fear of imperfection, fear of hurt, feel of loneliness, fear of disappointment, fear of not being good enough.

So by now I'm a hot crying mess at the keyboard. This is my undoing. It's ugly. Everything inside of me wants to throw in a disclaimer like "oh but I'm really ok, this is a little pit stop in the path of growth and we are back on track!" but no. There my do-gooder goes again.

This time I'm not going to Pollyanna my way back to happy pastures.

I want to defend myself. I want to deceive myself and deceive you. I want to pretend it's not bad. But sin is bad. Self-worship is at the root of it. Yuck. Did I just really say that!?

Yuck.

Honestly, I want to learn what it means to let go. I want to learn what it means to be in His yoke. You know the one He said was easy and light? I seem to know nothing of that. Nothing of true rest in His finished work. Somehow I find I am just so dang helpful and if I'm not sucking up all the hot air in the room like all the other whiners in this world, well I'm one less He has to worry about. "Oh Suzanne!? She's got it! She's doing great!! Now I can go on and focus on his reprobate sinner next door...."

But the truth be told, all my do-gooder, homeschooling, crunchy momma, bible study going, husband supporting deeds are just filthy rags. If I'm claiming that as my standard of righteousness, that's all it is.

What would happen in a day not lived in my intense zone!? Where the laundry didn't get folded, the school didn't get done, the baby ran around in just a diaper, I sat on the couch and ate oreos and watched biggest looser!?

I will not lie. The thought mortifies me.

But do I know I would still be dearly loved? Completely ransomed? A precious one in His sight? Do I know that?

My head does.

Oh Jesus, help my heart to know.

I'm embarking on this journey of grace. To know what it means to fall into Jesus. To know what it means to not have it all together. And yet have it all in Him. I know I am not nearing the secret to the perfect life this side of heaven. There will always be trials and tribulations. But I want to let my do-gooder go to hell where it belongs. I want the redemption of Jesus to be my only righteousness. My only hope. Suzanne is no good at being goodness. I see it.

I want to share on here this journey, very freely and candidly as I walk through it. My hope is that there are others of you type-A freakish sinners out there that want a Savior just as much as I do. Or maybe your "good girl" mask comes in a different form. Whatever your story, know you're not alone. I am fully hopeful that He is in the business of saving. Daily. Saving me from myself. I trust there is rest for our souls, only in Him.

As I ran today a song came on where the singer quoted 1 John 1:5: "God is light, and in Him there is no darkness at all." He is our light to lead us to Truth. He dispels the darkness of our lies and fears. He brings light. My prayer.

On that note, I think I might just go pop in my grace-based pizzas for dinner.... ;)



P.s. Please listen to this song, as it perfectly describes this journey... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mPlbNCzE5G0