Admittedly I’m in a bit of a funk these days. My normal obsessive compulsive, overachieving self has been replaced by one that just doesn’t care. And no, it’s not a case of the winter blues. It’s more like a case of “does it matter”. Does it matter if a load of dishes sits in the sink overnight. No. Does it matter if there’s more than a load of laundry waiting to be washed? No. Does it matter if the Lego’s are in the wrong bin, the floor needs vacuuming, or the bathrooms haven’t been wiped down today? No.
What matters these days is my little family, whom I cherish above all else. What matters is my son’s imagination, which I spend hours igniting every day. What matters is our happiness, our faith, and our lives together.
In this season of Advent I’ve prayed for clarity. I’ve asked God to open my heart, and mind so that I can better understand, and wholeheartedly accept His will. This isn’t a new prayer. In fact, I’ve been praying this prayer since I resigned my pre-baby career as a museum director. Surely, I thought, God had a great plan for my future. And so I prayed, and prayed, and prayed. The difference is I’ve failed at listening. And failed miserably.
There comes a point when the faithful have to set aside their own misdirected desires and accept the greater plan. For myself, that plan seems to be one of domesticity. And we all know from previous posts, I love all things domestic. But I came to at-home parenting by-proxy. It was never my intent to call child rearing my career. Nor did I think board meetings would be replaced with mopping up vomit, pee, etc. in yoga pants and a ripped tee. And strangely enough, I never imagined I’d love it so much.
But as I pass through this season of life, one in which I’ve opened my heart to the voice of God, I’ve been reminded that my place is at home. At home with my child. At home with my husband. At home.
God reminded me that my past was mine, but my future is His. My past was mine, but my future is for my family. My degrees are mine, but they’re to be used for Him. And my servicing soul is full, and ready to serve. I’ve fallen in love with our little community, and I pray I find ways to become involved, serve it, and grow within it.
Only God know’s what it all means. And at this point in my journey for better clarity I dare not ask Him. Instead, I’ll meditate on what He’s given me. Acceptance.
“Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship. Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.” -Romans 12:1-2