We’ve been living the high life in a hotel for five days and already I’m becoming well aware of where I end and the Lord absolutely MUST begin. Unfortunately, I just feel so spiritually dry. After 10 days or so of flying solo with both kids while Chris went all colonial on us and paved the way for us to come to our new home, I had dove in deep with Bible study, prayer, and genuine closeness with the Lord. Nighttime anxiety and fears were non existent. I truly rested in Christ.
And yet, here we are, in 700 sq ft of living space. Space that’s filled with my family unit together again, but with a void I can’t seem to pinpoint. Is it the fact that C is waking up three times a night and starts his day at 5:30 AM just to go down for a nap again by 8 because CLEARLY no 11 month old child needs to be up at the crack of dawn? Perhaps it’s the juggling of deciding where we’ll live. Apartment life? Overspending on a new house because house prices are inflated? Decisions be tough, yo. I guarantee you at least 38% of the issue is being homie-less. My people aren’t just a hop, skip, and 30 minute drive away. I digress. Solitude is rough for the extrovert.
There’s nothing profound to report. Nothing significant like “I haven’t yelled at my kids and I’ve done a marvelous job of choosing the grilled option over fried when dining out.” Certainly have reigned in the temper (thank You, Jesus) but the fried options are just so APPEALING. Who orders a grilled fish po boy sandwich, anyway? No one, that’s who. Except maybe someone from Missouri. I digress. We’re taking it hour by hour-literally. I don’t know how many highly unnecessary trips to Target a woman needs to take before she can finally accept her issue is not with needing new cups for the kids and bottled water, but the true issue is genuine discontentment. A heart issue that continues to be in the works, one that’s sadly with minimal progress.
So here we are. It’s quiet around here so I think the kids are asleep. Or unraveling all the toilet paper (true story), helping the other unravel toilet paper (true story), or licking the side of the toilet where the aforementioned toilet paper hangs (sadly, also a true story.) Either way the quiet is welcome and I can gather my chaos into one document that will help, if only for a moment, allow me to be present and focused without being distracted by the 18 perpetual gnats that take my energy so low even an Iced Caramel Macchiato can’t bring me back to functioning.
This life I lead is one filled with a job I adore, kids that are pretty cool, a husband who puts up with my all-to-frequent unloving tone of voice, and some checking-of-the-box Bible reading. To get out of the rut (besides reading Beth Moore’s book on it) is agenda item #1. Let’s consider this some cyber accountability and my hitting “publish” will put me in a position to be hyper aware of my entitled way I desire to live and tone it down a notch to be able to see the blessings of this season.