Sometimes I get anxious.
My little family was all lined up in a pew at church. Zuzu sat sullenly trying to get over the fact that I had the audacity to curl her hair that morning, Viola growled at the boy behind us and Riley held my hand while restraining said growler girl with the other arm. And I...I felt like I was being crushed beneath the shiny stiletto heels of a life I am not good enough to control. I had taken on too much, said yes too many times, had too many hopes and too little talent and on top of everything I felt very certainly that my lipstick was smudged.
The congregation began to sing but I couldn’t join in. I knew that if tried to open my mouth a scream might leave it instead of melodious worship for our God in heaven.
So I prayed.
Please. Let me know what I am allowed to have. Please let me know what I am allowed to want. Please let me breathe. Please give me perspective. Please be merciful to this girl that is too inward looking. Please know I am ashamed of my problems, these tiny things others would pray to have as their only trials. Please know that intellectually I understand I can do this,it is just my heart that betrays that knowledge. Please let me be enough. Please let me know where to put my time. Please forgive me for not knowing. Please forgive me for my weakness. Please give me strength. Please help me.
I waited for the warmth, for the assurance I've felt at other times and it didn't come. So while the congregation sang and Viola’s growling grew louder, I took out paper and pen and began to write.
I thought I’d write my feelings, spill them outside of myself and remove the poison, but instead I began to make a calendar. Each day of the week and under every day the three sections of my waking hours. Morning, afternoon, night. Under each collection of hours I wrote the things I would accomplish in them. Homeschool, writing, playing, dinner making, cleaning, loving, service and one on one time with Riley. As I cataloged my week, I felt the warmth I had expected. And in the warmth I was given an answer.
I deserve to have control over my own life. What a revelation. List making, deliberate living, calendars and schedules are one way to show my life, my hopes, my family the respect they so fully require. I cannot have everything, but I can choose my dearest desires and throw my everything into turning them from candy colored dreams to tangible reality. There is purpose in choice. And direction in deliberateness. And hope in form. And my goodness, maybe, just maybe, I get to have what I want.
Did you ever think of such a thing? That maybe you get to be the person you always hoped you would be?
Starting today, I am going to give my life the respect it deserves. Yes, that means list making and goal setting. But those things don't really mean rigidity. They are a means to creating time to live in the moment. Something I’ve lacked as my disorganized approach to the fullness of my existence has bounced me from disorganized day to chaotic night and back again. I am so tired of being too busy to live happily and freely and completely.
Will this new approach make me 5’10”, thin as Giselle, busty as Kate and rich as Oprah? No. But I don’t really want those things. What I want, with every aching part of my hobbit sized being, is to be the best version of myself. And I think, I hope, I pray, that this is the first step. One of many pushes forward that will keep me moving towards that better me I can see off in the distance if I squint my eyes just so.
Want to join me?
You deserve this, too.