Not So Ann Voskamp-ish

I sit on the bed trying to nurse my 3 week old, while a toddler with a ridiculously foul smelling diaper is climbing all over me asking a million questions and demanding juice. When I tell him no, he proceeds to pitch a fit on the floor. At first I think I should congratulate him on the stellar timing of his display, seeing as how I can't really do anything about it. But it gets worse and I realize I must do something about it. I then attempt to walk around the house and nurse the baby as I search for a wooden spoon, only to realize I'm not very gifted in that capacity and am really only leaking all down the front of me, or rather spewing like a geyser. In this moment I offer up a silent prayer that neither the neighbor or landlord show up at the back glass door, because it always seems to happen at the worst of times. Once I finally make it to the kitchen and look in the canister on the counter, lo and behold, no wooden spoons. Of course not. We only have 12 of them and the fact that I no longer have any I can use for cooking but they are scattered throughout the house is proof that we have a toddler. I finally find one and head back to my room to preform the fantastic workout move I like to call the "one armed football baby hold and deep floor squat with opposing arm bootie pop." What do ya know! It's great for both our backsides. In comes a preschooler holding a laptop stating that her computer program is jammed and not working. I then attempt to fix it but do you know how hard it is to use a laptop mouse with one arm at an awkward angle!? Enter the final child with a phonics question not even I know how to answer without the help of google. Homeschool mom fail. So within 60 seconds I have fed a baby, searched the house for a spoon, disciplined a toddler, fixed a computer problem, and used my phone to search for words that end in -alk. It would be fine if it was just those 60 seconds... but it has been those 60 seconds every 60 seconds.

Brain = fried. Emotions = frazzled. I am exhausted on every level. It's after 2:00 and I have not brushed my teeth, gotten out of my pajamas, and barely eaten since my scrambled eggs at 7am. I know it won't be like this forever. This is just a season. I'm gonna miss this one day. Please don't tell me these things, well-meaning person. I know all this! Its just the short distance from my brain to the dark circles under my eyes that struggle to grasp it. As I reach for the burp cloth and find Asher's toy gun underneath, I can't help but smirk at the irony. And before you panic, no I am not suicidal. Even though the thought of peaceful silence in a padded coffin does sound enticing... but no, maybe the asylum is a better choice. Go ahead and call me in. A nice clean white outfit and clean white room and 3 meals a day prepared for me sound quite posh about now.

Truth: I love my children. Another truth: I battle my job description. I do not like running a daycare. If I took a career assessment test I would be told to "pack up my desk immediately." I would be informed that I am under qualified. Not gifted in this area. It wouldn't even register on my chart as a remote possibility to have a job in this field.

Don't get me wrong, I love being with my kids. Everyday I see moments I am so glad I get to witness. If I had to drop them off somewhere everyday, I would cry! (ok well maybe some days I would lift my hands to heaven as I was pulling away, but those would be rare...) I am so blessed to have these gifts and to invest in their lives and lead their souls. But even still, I battle the daily.

I battle my lack of "business tools." Logistically, I am most frustrated. Yes, yes, the house situation. I truly am not trying to sound like a broken record, but a few things would be super helpful: a fenced yard, resources, and at least enough space to put everyone somewhere for attempted "quiet time" without being right under each other's noses. I am sick of "make-shift" living here... if I had known it would be 4 years I would have invested in some things to help a long time ago! Yet now it feels futile. Because perhaps a move is on the horizon? Then again it may not be... I just don't feel like talking about it anymore.

I battle my free spirit. Surely it will get the best of me! It would be so much simpler if I were the contented homebody... loved a good book, cup of tea, and life in my pjs. Yet I love adventure, exploration, going and doing, freedom! But when the most exciting thing on my horizon is the fact that tomorrow, I get a couple hours alone with an infant to shop for groceries at Costco, it is pretty thrilling. Wohoooo, can somebody throw a few streamers in my face!? Party on the bayouuuuu!

I wish that somehow I could pause my life and borrow one day from my "empty-nester" years to come... er wait.... too many wrinkles. Maybe back up to life before all this, like.... the 2 years between graduating high school and getting married and enjoy that day, I would. Just to be free like the wind! It feels like the big world is spinning and carrying on outside and I am stuck in a time capsule. I feel monotony take over my existence. Which I hate, but being a spartan I can grit and bear it and power through no matter how much it kills me. Yet it does... it kills me. I have dreams, hopes and plans. I know that I can get there. Just not right now. Again, I am told to "wait."

I do my best to smile, and be grateful and have joy in Jesus! But I really feel anger. Resentment. Frustration. There are unanswered prayers. I feel overlooked. It's been a long journey with God being silent. There has been so much that only God knows. I read books about contentment and try to adapt the missionary lifestyle. Surely if she could praise Jesus with nothing but a prison cell, rags to wear, and cockroaches to count, I can praise Him when the budget is tight! I read verses that say "in everything give thanks!" Yet my mind scrolls through the verse about "bringing a sacrifice of praise" and all I can think is yeah, sacrifice alright! My bloody life is on the stone altar going up in smoke being sacrificed as a burnt offering!!!!

And I wonder where my daughter gets her drama.

I do my best to be a good wife and follow but I question my husband's decisions and leadership at times. I'd rather be in charge sometimes. Way to rock that Proverbs 31 attitude! ((thumbs up))

Please don't tell me the pat answers. Give me little ditty lines. My head knows the truth. Yet I battle here on this earthly ground.

So we break away from the homestead and go for a walk. To get some fresh air, to have a change of scenery from the 1100 sq feet of closterphobia. As I watch my girls run ahead, ruffled dresses flowing in the breeze for a moment I think how worth it life is. How these moments keep me going. All my troubles begin to melt and I see my blessings. Ahhhhh, yes! This is my 1,000 gifts moment! Look at me, I'm Ann Voskcamp!

Well that lasted for 2 minutes. Now one of my children is complaining about how their legs hurt and they want me to carry their tricycle and push the double stroller the rest of the block as I listen to them whine about how tired and thirsty they are. In the background I almost swear I can hear someone singing... "why does love always feel like a battlefield, a battlefield, a battlefielddddd!"

eucharisteo = poof.

I know what you are thinking. I'm negative. Debbie Downer. Ungrateful. Discontent. The truth? Yep I am. I'm a train wreck. I try, Lord knows I try! I just had a pretty honest conversation with Him about how tired I am of trying and giving my all to have a good attitude and see the bright side and trust His promises. I'm exhausted of that, truth be told. I told Him that if He wants that for me, He has to create it in me. Because I can't muster it up anymore. Somehow whenever I pray this I think He is up there nodding His head in affirmation that I finally quit trying to be my own Holy Spirit. That I finally surrendered my effort to His yoke. I'm sure it must be true.

It feels like the alternative to trying is giving up. I hate giving up. It feels hopeless. Wussy. A comp out. I would rather be a trying Christian and not getting anywhere than a giving up Christian that is intentionally sitting still. I know in the eyes of God it's not any better. But it sure as heck feels better.

But what happens if I don't try? If I don't try to accept my lot, to rejoice in Jesus, to be a good mom, to bloom where I'm planted? I know we are told to rejoice always. To count it all joy. To be of good cheer. These are commands, are they not?

Yet why at times does it simply feel like a mask to hide my true sentiments? To be a faker. To pretend something is that isn't.

I know there is a time to be raw with God. To be raw and let it sit. I suppose that is where I am. Perhaps you read all of this and are thinking "that's it, where's the conclusion, the glowing exhortation, the hope and truth at the end of the story?"

Well today there isn't. It's a casting-my-burdens on the Lord and trusting He sustains me. He doesn't need my "being a good christian" help. Which is a dang good thing, because today I don't have it. I'm worn. I am floating out at sea in a boat with some leaks and just lost my paddle. I wish I had undying hope and unwavering resolve, but after a while it just wears thin.

So here I sit. In my quiet spot. Which is really kinda lame, but its the only quiet place I can find... the steps leading out to the laundry room/storage/David's work shed. Yeah I'm super ghetto like that. Here's a reality shot folks:

Here I sit, crying out. Praying for help to be on the way. For hope. For a reminder that He knows and He has not forgotten. For either relief to come externally or internally. If He wants me to be brave enough to carry on He will have to give me that. If He wants me to sit still, He will have to strengthen that in me. If He wants me to hope, He will have to restore that. If He wants me to believe, He will have to help my unbelief.