Do Some

My phone is dead, my teething seven month old is sleeping in my lap, my right arm is going numb and I can’t reach the netflix remote or any of the many books I am currently “reading”.

What good am I serving?

I laugh, but parts of me also want to cry.

What am I actually doing with my life?

It’s funny because this morning at my mamas’ group I shared how I am just in it right now.

In it as in–in this really strange place of motherhood and womanhood and wifehood (is that even a hood?) that doesn’t really feel like it’s moving, even though I know it is.

A place of pruning.

In the constant, cyclical doing that never seems to end and my eyes are tired and my heart is weird.

Endless women expound on this very thing.

And it’s beautiful and holy-making.

But will we also allow it to be okay for women to say

it’s sometimes hard and monotonous and self-exposing and some-days draining?

I know there are inspiring quotes and tribes of women and books that I love, because I have them, that do and can encourage the bursting out of that space– but I also want to walk carefully as a very real woman who is doing her very best in it. 

Even typing this I feel the load of, do my words carry any weight?

And then that new, beautifully-pruned, part of me says… what weight do you need them to carry?

I’m more and more confident that as God prunes my heart, as He tunes my raw sharing to point to my great, irreplaceable need for Him every day, that there is honoring the in it without letting it rule the greater space of who I am becoming through it.

And I remember that there is worth in saying I’m not always wonderful and every day is not always my very best day and motherhood is not always chipper.

There is worth, because I am worthy. You are worthy. What you’re doing bears a worthy weight. An eternal weight.

Even when the load leaves you questioning, or longing, or praying or repeating the same thing as yesterday, like loads of wash and folding laundry.

And I remember that there is no measure for what I’m doing other than Christ.

Is it humbling me to my need for Him?

Is it reminding me that life is about His greater love story?

Is it peeling back very dead layers so that something new can be birthed?

Is it making space for Light and a lighter load?

Is it steadily walking till I’m home with Him?

I’m the type of person that wants to be all in to the things I am in.

But, because I’m in it — the thick and glorious of the daily mothering and raising tiny humans — it’s hard to be all in to the “other” spaces in my life and its easy to be all in to the overwhelming feelings that are hard. It’s challenging to share the parts of me that are also bride and friend, family member and business leader, wellness advocate and nature seeker, writer and barefoot enthusiast.

But I’m also these things and there’s pruning to be had there too that tie right back into who I’m becoming as mama. Does that make sense?

Just because it feels hard doesn’t mean I need to keep settling in the hard. The last day or so I’ve resigned myself to being okay with saying,

If you can’t do it all, do some

And instead of grabbing a box of cookies to mope in the hard of it, I’ll settle down with one cookie and do the some of it well, trusting the pruning process and that there is tangible and delicious fruit somewhere down the line.

The best part?

I get to see the fruit each day, even in small parts, if I open my eyes and slow down enough to.

This morning we did the same old same. We “woke” up with my toddler alarm clock and then we woke up for real. I peed, changed diapers, washed my face and listened to the morning giggles. Eggs were scrambled, my breakfast drink was blended and the table was set for two while the baby jumped. And as I opened up my bible same as every day, my William says,

“Mama, are we gonna talk about Jesus?” and smiles with big eyes.

Yes, little man, we sure are.

And the best part is, we’re only at the end of Exodus.


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