Motherhood

You know what you get when you take a perfectly good life, throw in a perfectly great husband, a couple perfectly awesome kids, a perfectly respectable career, perfectly incredible friends, and a small town community full of perfectly well-meaning people? If you’re anything like me (we’ll get to that later), you just might get a capital M.E.S.S. – that’s right, the hot kind.

I recently celebrated my thirty-fifth birthday feeling like the most-blessed, least got-it-together, happiest, most anxiety-ridden person I’ve ever known myself to be. You see, friend, by literally ALL THE STANDARDS, I’ve got it all. I can’t turn around without bumping face-first into a blessing. I’m safe, I’m healthy, I’m loved, I LOVE, and I’m saved. I’m here, and I’m good, but I feel like a complete whackadoodle of a mess, because someone (yep, I’m talking to YOU, God) dropped a bomb of a message on me when I least expected it. Thank you? I think?

Not the blast-you-into-a-million-pieces kind of bomb (thank you, Lord – that would call for a much more serious kind of story). More like one of those giant unicorn-shaped sparkly bath bombs your daughter drops in when you JUST sipped your wine and closed your eyes, the kind that splashes you up the nose, leaves you with a perfume headache, slippery feet, and an uncertain ring around the tub. I mean, that’s what I imagine those things do…I haven’t had a closed-eye-wine-bath since way before unicorn bath bombs were a thing.

Anyhow, here’s what He said:

“Be still and know that I am God.”

Psalm 46:10 NIV

Eight tiny words. Words that I knew by heart, suddenly SO LOUD. I heard it for the first time in the middle of the night, again the next day, and over and over AND OVER again for months. “Be still. Be still and know. Be still and know that I AM. Be still and know that I am God. Not you, hun. Me. I AM GOD, and I’ve got this. Let it go. Slow it down. BE. STILL.”

I mean…WHAT? “Of course I know you’re God,” I argued. I was grateful for that, always had been. His plan, not mine. He’s in control, not us. He’ll take care of us. Yes, I KNOW. But I wasn’t living like I knew. I was living like ALL THE THINGS were mine to do, mine to accomplish, mine to fight for, mine to make perfect, not His. Ouch. [Splash up the nose.]

There I am, fresh-haircut-deep in this life that any small town American girl could only dream of, I’m doing it. I have THE ACTUAL dream. And I’m drowning. I’m drowning in work, I’m drowning in missing socks, in unanswered texts, in unfinished Bible studies, in candy melted to the door of my new car, in wishing I could be a better wife/mom/daughter/sister/friend, in guilt for thinking this, and regret for not saying that, in desires for more and shame for how I could possibly feel that I’m entitled to ANYTHING more. I’m treading water holding two bowling balls and I. AM. GOING. DOWN.

I knew for certain when I heard it that I had to make some changes, but (control freaks unite) I wasn’t sure that I could. Life was GOOD. [Perfume headache.] I was fine. Never mind that my hair had started to fall out and I couldn’t catch a full breath on a weekday morning. I was FINE.

“Be still.” Wait. Who? ME? [Slippery feet.]

SO, here I sit, making one small move at a time [sitting stunned and disoriented in an uncertain (sparkly?) ring], waiting for the next clear message to come. I’m BAD at this, but I’m trying. I’m trying because now I know that believing something and actively living it are two completely different things. “Be still,” He said. “Be still.” And then a few weeks later, one more VERY loud, VERY clear word.

“WRITE.”

So bossy. So awesome. SO scary I’m still a little nauseous from encountering it. This could be a HOT MESS…but wait…hot messes are kinda my jam? “Be still. Trust me. ‘BE STILL and know that I am God.’ And WRITE.”

I’m inviting you into this story just in case you can relate, and if you can’t, maybe you’ll find it entertaining to watch a pre-midlife crisis go down, southern-smalltown-working-mama-style. It’s happening either way, and I can’t wait to see where it leads. We’re all gonna need that bath soon.