Today at Women’s Bible Fellowship a woman commented, “I don’t know how you do so much!” “Oh, it’s not that much,” I said, shifting my littlest one on my hip, trying to wipe off the evidence of her spitting up on my clothes – clean, nice-looking, “adult” clothes that I find myself wearing fewer and fewer times during the week …. month …. year. “Oh, yes,” she insisted, “Nursing her, facilitating a group. I don’t know how you even get your study done.” I let her in on a secret: I did most of it before WBF even started because I *knew* that quality chunks of quiet time would be packed away with my Grown Up Clothes.
Really, life feels more simple these days. Daily routines, check-off lists for chores, homework, bills, well-child checkups. Planning a meal, shopping for a meal, cooking a meal, eating a meal, convincing others they want to eat the meal, wiping up the meal, cleaning up the meal. And beginning it all over again in about three hours.
One of the questions from our weekly homework looked at anointing and serving: when God gives us a Word about something God calls us to, our journey begins by serving rather than leading in that area. A homework question asked something about what area did we feel called to that we might begin serving in. For me initially: Writer? Pray-er? Baker? But this week I reversed it and wondered who am I serving and how might that speak into who I’m called to be in the future: my kids. I realized I serve them most of the day, and I actually want to be more like them: joyful, carefree, innocent, curious, full of hugs, and seemingly full of endless energy (as evidenced by putting my son into quiet time for the fourth time in 20 minutes).
I have a piece of paper next to my bed with a quote from the previous week’s homework: “God, I want to commit to starting every day by asking for you to remind me of your presence with me.” The author didn’t start off with “I want” – that’s more Perfectionist Me knowing I can’t perfectly commit; but I want to commit, and that’s gotta be something, right? I overheard my kids’ playing in my room last week. Abel: “Play with dis piece of paper!” Judah, “No, Abel, put that back! Mama needs that: it makes her feel better.” How do they know? Wanting to want seems to be a good first step. 🙂