Stuff to Do

I cleaned my children's bedrooms yesterday, and in one of the rooms, I unearthed a plastic gold medal which came from preschool. As I bent down to scoop it off the floor, I thought about Olympic athletes, and how hard they work to even get to the Olympic games. I continued contemplatively working, and when the room was finished, A single thought was in my mind. What if I worked like an elite athlete? They don't hop in the pool and merely cruise to the other end. They swim their guts out. What if I, as a homemaker, as a mama, as a wife, as a friend, as a daughter, as a sister, as a woman - what if I didn't content myself with cruising through the day, and instead, put my head down, my bottom up, and dug deep. Ignored the distraction of life outside the lane, and just focused on my own race, in my own lane. I'll tell you what would happen, because I did just this yesterday. Stuff got done. I Friday-ed like a BOSS. I owned Friday. I looked at Friday and

Is it the four walls in which we reside? Is it the people who live there with us? Is it a sensory thing - a smell, or a sound? We moved house (and state) a few weeks ago, and as I've been unpacking boxes, and trying (again) to create a home for my family, I've been reflecting on this very question. It's not about validating my choice to be a homemaker. I'm quite happy in that choice, and don't feel the need to inflate my ego by listing all I do in a day. I know that without my choice to stay at home and do this, my husband could not go out and do what he does. So I know that it's an important job, and I know I'm awesome at it. No, my reflection is born of an observation that making a home is so much more than just these four walls, and the people therein. It is also the building of community outside these walls. The finding of a place for this family in a larger setting, and the ability to make it feel like a natural place. To take these stranger

So this morning, I'm panicking, figuratively speaking. I'm enrolled in university, three classes this trimester - and the workload is freaking me out. This week alone, I have five lectures. The amount and (difficulty) of reading I have to do boggles the mind. My domestic workload is, as ever, as challenging as one might expect given the size of my family. Trying to remain committed to health and wellbeing, and see to my mental health, my spiritual health - it's daunting. So I was feeling frazzled when I rocked up to church (ON TIME!) this morning. Feeling overwhelmed, uncertain, and definitely not thinking about worship. The message today was about Elijah, and the part about him journeying into the wilderness and parking his backside under a broom tree - it spoke to me. We had our own Elijah kind of morning last week. I dropped all the kids off and I just sat in my car in the driveway. I couldn't face the overwhelming nature of the mess awaiting my return. So I

Another year gone. Wow. I was reflecting on life, as people seem to do on New Year's Eve. It occurred to me that this move to a new place, while a good thing, wasn't quite the magic wand that I had expected it to be. There's a lesson to be learned there. My expectations are, 99% of the time, crazy-stupid-high. And in all my life, I don't know that I've ever been able to confidently define who I am which is where I need to start in order to know who I want to be. With that in mind, I've begun with the following list:  I am a Jesus-loving, coffee-drinking, kitchen-ninja. I am a big-hearted, incredibly sensitive, creative being. I read books like other people breathe, I enjoy solitude, and I crave order and routine. I feel anxious when things are crazy. I have panic attacks sometimes. I have a wicked temper (working on that one!). I love doing laundry, but hate putting it away. I struggle with consistency...sometimes. I eat my feelings (God is really spoiling t