Sometimes I’m torn. I see images and hear stories of people who give it all up. The house, the cars, the haircuts and the makeup, the first world. For what? For the third. And a part of me is jealous.
There is a part of me that wants to give it all up and go. Go somewhere I could feel like my skills make a difference. Somewhere a smile and a meal is enough. Somewhere to hug and give shoes. Somewhere other than here.
Sometimes here feels so entitled.
Here isn’t bad. It really isn’t. It’s blessed. I just don’t think we always recognize the blessing, so we curse it instead of thank Him. Sometimes I’m so busy cursing the stain I can’t get out of my shirt, the winter tires I need for the car, or the coat of paint I need to get on the house, I miss the shirt, the car, and the house in front of me.
I want to hold on and let go at the same time.
Real life calls me. Kids who need help with homework and jobs that have hours and the dinner that needs to be made. There is a part of my mind that is torn to pieces by the real life and my heart forgets that here isn’t bad.
Because here is a ministry. The dinner I make my family is as much a blessing as the one for orphans in Africa. The shoes I tie are a service no matter where the feet land. The paints I get out and clean up so they can create remind us of the Creator. The life I live is a blessing if I let it be. Because this:
So I will vacuum and fold. I will pick up from baseball and drop off the forgotten permission slip. I will make the beds and even burn the cookies. I will lose my patience and find my forgiveness. I will try to do it all and fail into His arms.
If I do it for His glory then it’s the very thing I’m supposed to do. And I can breathe.
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