I have been sitting on this blog post for quite awhile letting fear and doubt and perfectionism keep me from posting it. It is a little scary and intimidating to post your first one, especially since I don’t really read any other blogs and am not sure what a true blog is supposed to be. The content still rings true even though it was written several months ago, not much has changed. This has been pressing on my heart long enough so ready or not here I come….
Coming back from my first grief support group is probably not the best time to start writing my first blog post. Even typing those words “my first blog post” make me shiver just a bit. Although I’m not sure what I am so scared of. I am writing to probably an audience of two, my husband because he loves me and my mom because, well, she is my mom and that is what moms do.
Raw is the best word to describe my state right now. It’s been a rough emotional week, but then again it has been a rough month. It seems like we just can’t catch a break and are being bombarded with one thing after another. It’s just regular inconveniences, but they keep on coming with just enough time for us to catch our breath in between. It’s nothing life changing. No, that was three months ago when I got a call to come to the hospital because my Grammie had been in an accident, a fatal accident. And when I got another call in May telling me my sister’s son has cancer. He was just six months old then. Or over two years ago when I found out I was going to be a mother of four, just after we celebrated my son’s first birthday.
Yes, those were all life changing events, then why was scraping the gooey sticky mess of chicken broth and bits of bones off my refrigerator feeling like a life changing event. I had been cleaning all day, since 6:45 am to be exact. That was when I came downstairs, stood in my kitchen, and stared at the mess. My sleepy light-sensitive eyes sweeping over my kitchen trying to inform my just as sleepy brain what I was actually seeing. What the sleepy brain concluded was that my crock pot had erupted like a volcano in the middle of the night spraying gooey sticky greasy chicken broth, bones, and meat all over my kitchen. Not a spot was missed, Crock Pot Volcano made sure it hit every surface, wall, appliance, cabinet, window and thing in my kitchen.
You see, I was determined to beat this bad luck we are having and decided it was time to cook up some healthy nutritious bone broth. This was to nourish our bodies and keep us from repeating our four long months of illness we experienced last fall and winter. I was being proactive, getting ahead of the game. But in all my excitement I had forgotten one small detail, don’t latch the crock pot. Now all our health and nutrition was spewed all over my kitchen, and I was left to clean up a mess of good intentions.
By the evening I had shut down and then the tears came. I was just so tired of failing. I knew we were living in chaos. The month before, my husband and I came up with a plan of action. We were organized and full of hope. I was going to declutter our home and he was going to balance the budget. We even had weekly meetings to discuss our plan and revise and evaluate. Little did we know by the end of the month we would only discovered how little money we actually do have and all I would declutter is the breakfast bar.
During my pity party with the refrigerator and wondering why every part of my life seemed so hard I couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to this disaster than chicken. I thought maybe this was not terrible luck and God is either trying to get my attention or is preparing me for something.
These past few years I think I should get an A for effort. I have tried so hard to pull us out of the chaos. But the more I try to climb out the farther I fall in. I’m a fighter by nature so if it gets harder I fight harder. I keep fighting for this nice life. You know, the one where the house is organized and clean, home school time is filled with amazing lessons about history and cool science experiments, healthy meals are on the table every night at 6:00, dinner discussion is great, bedtime is full of stories and giggles, prayers and kisses. Life flows nicely, we have our problems but we handle them with ease. That is the life I keep fighting for but instead I get a house full of clutter, school squeezed in while cleaning up the dishes, I hope to at least feed my family something before 8:00 and bed time, well, its loud, its chaos.
Crock pot volcano has finally gotten my attention or at least brought me to a new level of exhaustion, stripping my emotions raw, and forcing me to stop, to pay attention to His still small voice.
Maybe I need to stop trying to climb my way out of the chaos, and instead I need to find Him in the midst of it.
Not climb out but search within and just find Him, grab His hand, or even jump on His back and let Him lead me through instead of out.
Maybe I am fighting what I need to be living.
And that’s it. I have no amazing conclusion. No five step process on how to get to that nice life. The only life changing thing I am attempting to do is listen and follow what He says. Simple, but not so easy. He has impressed upon my heart for so long to write. I have continually fought Him on it. I have come up with every excuse in the book as to why I can’t write. But I am done fighting Him. I am listening and trying to obey and pay attention to His still small voice.
Welcome, if you may, to my journey. My journey through the chaos, jumping onto my Savior’s back because if my two feet hit the ground I will be running the other way. No more fighting, no more escape attempts. I will face it head on, I will face the life He has for me because that nice life, the one I have been fighting for, it’s just not mine. As long as He is with me, I think I can do this. I can go through the chaos.