Tuesday, April 14, 2015
Not Cut Out For This
It's the end of a very long day and I hesitantly type it into the chat box.
"I have no idea what I'm doing. Sometimes it feels like it would be better if we could just all go our separate ways."
Because family life is many things. Many happy, easy, blithe things, yes, but also many hard things. Many "I didn't think it would be this way" things. Many "I don't want to do this" things. At the end of a long day when my patience ran out long before lunch and every interaction thereafter was anything but pleasant, when my texts to my husband could be made into a manual on why not to have kids, I tell my best friend: "I'm not cut out for this."
But the thing is, no one is.
That's the way it is with refining. With sanctifying. That's how it goes with becoming holy. Our original state isn't made for it. It's only through the self-sloughing, the burn off of resistance that it's found deep underneath.
No one it cut out for this. Instead, we are sanctified through this. Through the predictably unpredictable nature of human children. Through the messes and the bills and the unexpected snags. Through the temper tantrums and botched discipline attempts, the marital disagreements and the days when quitting seems the only viable option.
When I think of it this way, I can see it as good. As opportune. As the point, really, of family life. Not smooth sailing. Not easy seas. If it was that simple to get along, would we be?
When I'm up to my eyeballs in the needs of others, even keeping another person's heart beating in my sleep - I can feel spent. I can believe that service is in the doing, the making, the cleaning, the feeding. I can forget altogether that begrudging giving isn't the point. My long sighs and eyerolls and texted complaints show me for the fraud I am. Because all of it is null and void without coming from a heart place. A love space. I can scrub that kitchen sink til it shines but if the only way I can speak to my tween is with a sarcastic snap, I missed the point.
Yes, life would be easier if we never had to share. If we always had what we wanted when we wanted it. If we all got enough sleep each night. But life isn't about what is easy, and lifting only light things doesn't build muscle.
If I want muscles of mercy, service, humility and compassion, I need to work them. Thankfully, family life gives me ample opportunity for just that. Through every bad day, it's the promise that keeps me afloat. Even this is for His glory and my good.
If you enjoyed this post, please consider leaving a comment or subscribing to future posts. Thank you.