Friday, October 25, 2013
God made it clear to me last year that my place, for the next season of life, was to create a home that my little family could thrive in. To come alongside my husband and encourage him in anyway possible (read: sex, food, and taking the garbage out myself). To be available to my girls as they are learning what life is all about (read: my little ponies, time outs and dance parties in the kitchen). I felt a holy charge to make a space where our four little family members felt encouraged, challenged, supported and understood.
This might seem like an obvious charge. For me it wasn't. Because I am a person of chaos.
Don't get me wrong, folks. I LOVE staying at home with my babies and having them crawl into bed with me in the morning and snuggling their faces off. But I also love being involved in ministry, spearheading events, throwing parties, coffee dates and girls nights all day err day. I love having my hands in 473893 proverbial pies.
I am also embarrassed to admit how much time I invest in daydreaming of my life after the girls are in school. AKA Rachel 4.0. She is super skinny and super nice and wears high heels and blazers. Also, she sleeps until 8:30. I can't wait to meet her.
Anyways, I was a chaotic mess of holy servitude, firmly basing my life on the principle that I had to live out of ALL my giftings at ALL times. I feared that if I stepped completely inside the home I would never see the light of day again. And that a part of me would die. The professional part. The creative part. The relational part. So I tried to do it all.
And I was exhausted. I chased after dream jobs. I researched graduate programs. I led worship, I mentored high school women. All good things. All noble things. But not right now things. One particular morning of exasperation I found myself on my face before God. In a proud and painfully honest moment, I confessed: I feel like I have more to give than just being a stay at home mom.
And then He was like: cool. Then you should be a stay at home mom.
Because this is your right now thing.
God didn't want me to just be at home. He wanted me to make a home. He didn't want me just to survive motherhood and count down the hours until nap time or until Greg walked in the door. He wanted me to thrive as I leaned in HARD on His new mercies every morning. He didn't want me to view my husband as a chamber maid or a babysitter. He wanted me to take care of this little yellow house and everyone in it so that Greg would have the freedom to pursuit God's direction and design for his own life.
Most of all, He wanted peace. Peace during my right now thing. I know that God designed me to dream and to have vision and create. But, right now, He has called me to look all of my loves in the face and say, "I got this. I got you. Go and be whatever God wants you to be." I'm holding down this fort for my homies.
And you guys. I am finding myself hidden in making a home. There is so much pleasure and joy in the peace and quiet. In the gift of time. The gift of yoga pants. The gift of allowing Jesus to order our day as we lift it up to Him. The gift of playing Chutes and Ladder with Madeline until the cows come home. The gift of trying new recipes and seeing my husbands face light up when he smells one of his favorite dishes cooking. Well. Sometimes. Okay. Like once a month, but still.
And although I have my chaotic flareups (all apologies to anyone who had to listen to my rant about running an organic home daycare a few weeks ago) I very much feel like the anchor in our little family right now. In the past that could have felt like suffocating pressure to me. Like weight holding me down at sea with scary sharks all around me. And I hate sharks. But now I can see the holy picture that God has intended. I am holding down this sacred vessel, filled with my people. Anchoring them down when the storms of life rock them, leaning in on my God for strength and peace.
This is my right now thing.
There is going to come a time when I don't have a toddler throwing her diaper in my bed shrieking "I go pee on the floor mommy!" as a wake up call. Our world will change, again, next year when Maddie steps on the bus to spend the majority of her time at school. Wah! I know that my right now thing won't last forever. This season of peace will give way to beautiful chaos and God will meet me in that as well.
But right now, this is where He has me. And right now, this is where I find Him.